tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1055869659468902532024-03-04T20:51:46.021-08:00Matthew 18:5Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-105586965946890253.post-10512895969574325262014-04-06T14:18:00.001-07:002014-04-06T14:29:01.048-07:00I Lied and You Believed MeDear Esther,<br />
I have been doing a lot of crying lately, and many of my tears are for you. I am writing this letter to you as a way to soothe my soul, wishing I could somehow see your sweet face and tell you myself. <br />
<br />
Esther, please forgive me. I lied to you. I lied when I agreed to sponsor you. I lied when I said my sponsorship of you was an expression of God's love. I lied about all that. I thought it was "the right thing" to do. And I did it so I could convince myself I was doing something for kids like you, who have so little when I have so much. I did it so I could put your picture on my refrigerator and my friends would all see what a good person I am. (a refrigerator is something we have in our kitchen, where we keep the food and it remains cold).<br />
<br />
But then a few years ago, after I had been writing to you for a while, things got hard for me and my family. We had a lot less money. My husband was out of work and I was scared. (You can read about that here: http://www.matthew185.blogspot.com/2013/01/50-and-broke.html)<br />
<br />
I should have trusted God. I should have known He would get us through - He did! I should have known that the small amount I was sending you would not make much of a difference in our overall problems. But I let fear get the best of me. <b><u>And I cancelled my sponsorship of you</u></b>. I know you have to believe in God EVERY DAY for what you need, and I am so ashamed that I did not have as much courage as you do.<br />
<br />
My heart is truly broken now to realize what I did. And the only reason I am realizing it now, is because some people here in America got in an argument and it made them cancel their sponsorships of thousands of other kids. I know that sounds terrible. It is. I wonder now how they told you I wouldn't be writing to you any more. What did they say? I am realizing now that because you live in a country where so many people die young, you might even think that I died! How did they explain it? I pray with all my heart that you do not think it had anything to do with you.<br />
<br />
Your letters were awesome. You are so strong and so brave. I know a lot more now about what it means to you to have a sponsor. See, now I have four kids that I adopted from an orphanage. <b>They have told me about how having a sponsor kept them from being too sad. They told me that having JUST ONE person care about them in the whole world gave them the courage to keep going. They didn't care about having an extra meal or a Christmas present as much as they cared about knowing that someone knew their name, thought about them, prayed for them.</b><br />
<br />
Precious Esther, I am so sorry that I failed you. I am sorry that I was not that person for you. After my husband got a job again I started sponsoring another little girl. Here she is:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvECWKNDJd-aK2fvdnnTqcmPzqB8fyJeDdCekGNu7fdD8dGiw-7dGjNAxfWmFi9L8fvqHZOfTdzu4PPOBvVrQlusTUh8un39FDDpDbAYhszUQcov9_bNWA4d2kr5aXPedqEP0f7jWW8jl8/s1600/sponsor+photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvECWKNDJd-aK2fvdnnTqcmPzqB8fyJeDdCekGNu7fdD8dGiw-7dGjNAxfWmFi9L8fvqHZOfTdzu4PPOBvVrQlusTUh8un39FDDpDbAYhszUQcov9_bNWA4d2kr5aXPedqEP0f7jWW8jl8/s1600/sponsor+photo.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
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I felt like it didn't matter that it was a different girl, but now I know that I was wrong. I know that I am real to you too. That you think about me when you lie in your bed at night. That you wonder what I am doing, what I am eating, what my house looks like. I know you pray for me. I know sometimes you even wrote my name as your last name on your school papers. </div>
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My new girl writes me sweet letters just like yours.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDhSP_s2n4t6VDQSI496Ocscvts9-K_1-3spvWeBIkNECP4tjS_SOC_7RF8K26ousSJ61u8y1bMY4LZaC2MXmLZvcSiwRXgqjRtofojMLtOV7a1LGZf_VrUrYWmPhhgJu2xL36b9KrVFMM/s1600/Sponsor+Letter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDhSP_s2n4t6VDQSI496Ocscvts9-K_1-3spvWeBIkNECP4tjS_SOC_7RF8K26ousSJ61u8y1bMY4LZaC2MXmLZvcSiwRXgqjRtofojMLtOV7a1LGZf_VrUrYWmPhhgJu2xL36b9KrVFMM/s1600/Sponsor+Letter.jpg" height="320" width="232" /></a></div>
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She even sent me a copy of her report card so I could see how well she is doing in school. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfSZB-Zz8l1hS5wm8hLImKu-5YNKDd4_E_WDdLEm2_sDFgVnxhfhP-vv8LtXEPwcyemK4TPujgTVMj_tQrklg2TWBxSjqzK7PVOU5igQNdLijHLMZt0GeYv7bubhbXLpERiPZZMheiUVlQ/s1600/Report+Card.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfSZB-Zz8l1hS5wm8hLImKu-5YNKDd4_E_WDdLEm2_sDFgVnxhfhP-vv8LtXEPwcyemK4TPujgTVMj_tQrklg2TWBxSjqzK7PVOU5igQNdLijHLMZt0GeYv7bubhbXLpERiPZZMheiUVlQ/s1600/Report+Card.jpg" height="320" width="232" /></a></div>
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She told me that she tries so much harder in school now because she wants me to be proud of her, and she knows I believe in her because I pay for her to go to school.</div>
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Esther, I pray there is some way, any way I can find you one day and tell you how great you are. But most importantly, I want you to know that even though I lied to you, even though lots of people lied to lots of kids that they have stopped sponsoring, <b><u>Jesus will never lie to you</u></b>. Grown-ups are sinners. We do bad things and we make lots of mistakes. Please don't let the way I acted make you think that the love of Jesus is not real. Because He really, really, will not give up on you. His love is not like my human love. His love is so much better. His love does not change. He does not get afraid. He does not get in arguments. He does not leave you no matter what you say about Him, or what you do that is wrong. His love is pure. He will ALWAYS be there for you. Not like a sponsor…He is so, so much better.</div>
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I love you Esther</div>
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</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><b><i><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 16pt;">Keep your lives free from the love of
money and be content with what you have, because God has said, “Never
will I leave you; never will I forsake you.” <span style="color: #783f04;">Hebrews 13:4-6</span></span></i></b></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-105586965946890253.post-49278020701926619592013-12-18T08:00:00.001-08:002013-12-18T08:00:58.569-08:00Noticing JesusLast weekend one of our young pastors gave an amazing sermon, and he pointed out something I have not been able to get out of my mind. When Jesus was born, out of all the people on Earth at that time, <u><i><b>only a handful noticed the miracle.</b></i> </u> As recorded in Luke and other gospels, the Savior of the World was noticed by three foreigners and a few migrant workers (shepherds), and two old people in the temple.<br />
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I can't stop thinking about that...what was it about these particular people that they noticed the Messiah had arrived? It grieves me to know I would not have been on that list...I would have been one of the thousands of who had the great miracle right before me, and missed it entirely. I would not have been gazing at the stars and noticing their shifts. I would not have been in the temple praying night and day. I barrel ahead in life, focused on the day's tasks and my own agenda. I am definitely more of a "Martha" than a "Mary" (Luke 10:38-42). How many times is He right there and I miss Him?<br />
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So this Christmas, I have tried really hard to <b><i><u>notice Jesus</u></i></b>. He tells me he is with me always, but do I really notice that? This Advent season, I am blessed to say I am noticing him everywhere...<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>I am noticing Jesus in the faithfulness of my husband, who is always there for me, ever present, ever loyal, ever supportive, ever loving.</i></b></div>
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<b><i>I am noticing Jesus in our new son and his great love for his parents, his selflessness, his humility.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>I am noticing Jesus in the way our children love each other and serve each other.</i></b></div>
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<b><i>I am noticing Jesus in my parents faithfulness to our family despite the many choices we have made that they would have never expected.</i></b></div>
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<b><i>I am noticing Jesus in the incredible banquet of friends that I can feast on any day at any hour.</i></b></div>
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<b><i>I am noticing Jesus in the way my church family shows up for each other.</i></b></div>
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<b><i>I am noticing Jesus in the faith of precious friends living with cancer this Christmas.</i></b></div>
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<b><i>I am noticing Jesus in the little things, the sweet things, the every day gifts.</i></b></div>
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Lord, help me to slow down this Advent and notice you. And let me keep these eyes of seeing you all the year through. <br />
<h3>
<b>Yet I am always with you; you hold me by my right hand. Psalm 73:22-24</b></h3>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-105586965946890253.post-43185347866289303952013-06-17T17:20:00.001-07:002013-06-17T19:49:54.736-07:00The Free Gift<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">You know when you buy a package of make-up or perfume and you get the free gift? You over-pay for that package of cosmetics, because you want that <i>extra special something</i> that comes with it. I keep telling people that this is how I feel about my son Fred. He is in every way my "free gift" of a lifetime.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">In 2009, Jerry and I committed to adopting three kids from Uganda. We didn't know anything about anything at that time, and we foolishly funded those adoptions through debt. And we "paid" handsomely over the next few years for this poor choice, but we were always thrilled to have the "package" of those three kids. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">What we didn't know, but God knew, is that this package came with a free gift named Fred.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Here is the first photo I took of my son. This was in 2009 on a hot night in Uganda when he was helping Agnes and Ruth wash dishes at the orphanage guest house. (Mackenzie was with me on that trip and is on the right). He was 11 at the time, wearing the yellow shirt.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">When I look at this photo, I think of all the times in life that we don't understand what God has planned. The moments we miss...the things we overlook. The people we pass on the street who we need to meet. If only we could see with supernatural eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I did not know on that day that this boy was the biological brother of Agnes and the cousin of Ruth. No one told us, and he never spoke a word to me. He just silently floated in and out of the room like a voiceless ghost. I thought he was a cute, shy boy who was their friend. That night, he slept next to Nathan on a cot on the porch, but when morning came he was gone. Or so I thought.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Three years later when we knew the truth and had found him again, I was handed a cell phone with him on the other end, now sounding very much like a man. The first words he spoke to me that day and in his life were: "When are you coming for me Mum?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I met him again on February 14th, 2013. Valentines Day...yeah, lots of "free gift" promotions. Here is my handsome Valentine, almost unable to contain his joy that he was getting parents, new siblings, and being reunited with his family.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">If you haven't seen the video clip of his arrival home to his long lost sister, eat your heart out...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0lflpr9dq-Y" target="_blank">Fred's Homecoming Moment</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Over the last four months, I have been astonished, amazed and completely overwhelmed with the depth to which this boy has enriched our lives. I am struggling to find a way to explain the intelligence, love and giftings contained in this young man. So let me just tell you a few <b><i>facts</i></b> to paint the picture. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Since he got to America <i><b>two months ago:</b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">1. He has read all my old <b><i>college text books</i></b>, and most other books in this house. He spent two weeks memorizing the Rand McNaly World Atlas.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">2. He has learned to <b><i>swim</i></b> all the strokes "except butterfly Mum."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">3. He has <i><b>taught himself</b> </i>to vacuum, run the washing machine, empty the dishwasher, clean my car, mow the lawn, use a cell phone, take online classes, excel at pingpong and basketball, repair a bicycle, flip on a trampoline, rent movies, cultivate a garden.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">4. He has <b><i>tried more foods</i></b> than I have, and will literally eat anything he encounters. Yesterday he discovered he loves Blue Cheese dressing, and he spent the day experimenting with how it tasted on various foods.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">5. He entered high school with only six weeks left in the term, and came home with <i><b>all A's</b>.</i> (oh, and he skipped a grade but don't tell anybody).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">6. He <b><i>takes care</i></b> of his younger brother, tells me when it's the day to put out the garbage, reminds me to return my library books on time, protects his sisters.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">7. Did I mention he has made lots of <b><i>new friends</i></b> already? Nice-looking teen boys are suddenly found hanging out in my garage. (Olivia stumbled out there yesterday morning in her pajamas to discover half our neighborhood and ran back inside in embarrassment...we are not used to having all these big boys around!)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">8. He has ridden up to 24 miles (in one day) on the <i><b>bike trails</b> </i>in town. Oh, and he gets up at 6:00 am to jog too.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I think you are getting the picture. This kid is INCREDIBLE. Everyone has been asking me about his transition. All I keep saying is...it's like he has always been here. But better.</span><br />
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<b>Brothers</b></div>
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<b>Happy Mother's Day to Me</b></div>
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<b>Finally, the perennial bed I have always wanted.</b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Here is what JOY looks like...his first day home.</span></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dznRwQYHQeMvQkCo8-9BpgEF-mv5Oveg_aETmutSME9pVth8aFnsoXtGH4j_e5yKBRzt-dqyuXjy6Ig8P_yPQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Last week we lost him temporarily. We found in a tree, reading a Chemistry textbook.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">His intelligence is his calling card. You talk to this kid for three minutes and you know he is SMART. His curiosity and attention to detail amaze. Nothing mechanical in this house has escaped his examination. He loves science. He loves to explore. For a summer job, he wants to work in a laboratory and do research. Did I mention he is <b><i>only fifteen?</i></b>...FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! Who is this kid??? And what does God intend for him to cure, discover, change, improve? I can't wait to find out.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Oh, and he really was "free". When we stepped out in faith to locate and adopt him, we had <u>not one penny</u> to do it with. God provided every cent for this adoption through the generosity of others. Letting other people be part of our journey was one of the lessons we learned. We get it now.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">This scripture rings in my head every day: "For my son was lost but now he is found" Luke 15:24</span><br />
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<u><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">What if we didn't find him? What if we didn't pursue him? What if I never knew him? What if all I had of him was that photo washing dishes?</span></u><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">If you are reading this and you have considered adoption, don't miss out. </span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Thank you God for helping us find our lost son. I can't get over Your love for me, so full of <b>free gifts</b>.</span></i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-105586965946890253.post-11770775843093083892013-01-31T14:02:00.001-08:002013-07-04T07:30:50.177-07:0050 and BrokeI started my 50th year <b><u>FLAT BROKE</u></b>. <br />
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Like, really, really broke. Jerry and I found ourselves on New Year's Day of 2012 literally crying over our situation - brought on by a perfect storm of our choices and economic circumstances beyond our control. (my husband is a Realtor, I think you get it).<br />
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We were the kind of broke that <b><u>CAN'T BUY GROCERIES</u></b>. One day I absentmindedly prayed <b><i><u>"God, I just need someone to show up on my doorstep every week with a box of produce."</u></i></b> Three days later, a neighbor rang my doorbell. He was holding <b><u>a huge box of produce</u></b>. I stood there stunned.<br />
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He said: "Hey, my wife and I are involved in a food ministry and we have extra each week, so we thought we could bless your family." What, seriously? And so it began. Every week, I kept getting boxes that looked like this.<br />
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And they kept coming, every week. But then, they started having meat in them...and bread.</div>
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And it kept coming, until <u><b>my freezer looked like this</b>.</u>..(this is the garage freezer cause the indoor freezer was full ALSO)</div>
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We <b><u>had too much food</u></b> and we started giving it away to other adopted families from our church. We were all eating like KINGS. Here's Thanksgiving...<u style="font-weight: bold;">yeah, all free. </u></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhymQ_9YFXWJfaxKtvonEHbQh0jiIVY_8OSD-Yx0mqYUyyFYWrY7jGWAgUb-_gJa-jqBHz-03w_YwHkdYFUiEKTyW_cBpalC2oogAOd7fPlGQtUxpTkMokc3cTPiUvw8Uh502fvb_dOhANe/s1600/DSCN2590.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhymQ_9YFXWJfaxKtvonEHbQh0jiIVY_8OSD-Yx0mqYUyyFYWrY7jGWAgUb-_gJa-jqBHz-03w_YwHkdYFUiEKTyW_cBpalC2oogAOd7fPlGQtUxpTkMokc3cTPiUvw8Uh502fvb_dOhANe/s400/DSCN2590.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Then, the car drama began. Some of you might have followed the demise of both our autos on Facebook, but suffice it to say, we ended up with <b><u>NO CAR</u>.</b> </div>
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Here's the thing. When the first car was gone, I started praying SPECIFICALLY for God to give me a mini-van. <b><u>Not just any van...I needed 8 seats. I needed a HONDA ODYSSEY</u>. </b> I even told our pastor "If someone gives a van to the church, it's for me." (I can't believe I did that). </div>
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The day the second car died, the kindest lady ever gave us her 15-year-old little station wagon. We didn't exactly all fit in it, but at least we had transportation...the kids would squish and sit in the way back like the old days (Sorry if you are in law-enforcement. We repent.)</div>
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But I just kept praying. All summer, we drove around like clowns in the tiny clown car, and my sainted husband drove me to and from work every day. But I KEPT PRAYING. <b>I BELIEVED GOD WAS GOING TO GIVE ME A HONDA ODYSSEY. </b></div>
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One hot day, my old best friend from college found me on Facebook after 30 years! For some reason, I bawled my eyes out to her and told her all about our brokeness and how we were eating donated food and didn't have a car. So she calls me back and says that a lady in her church (several states away) is going to donate a van to us. It was, of course, a <b>HONDA ODYSSEY</b> (and no, I hadn't told her that part). </div>
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<b>YES, GOD GAVE US TWO FREE CARS WHILE WE WERE BROKE.</b><br />
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So, in case you think this is all just a coincidence, and that people are super generous to adoptive families (they are), I had very personal, <b><u>private needs that you would NEVER guess</u></b>. For one thing, my teeth were falling apart. I was very embarrassed by them. My teeth were damaged as a child and the front ones are all cosmetic, but they were decades old and worn out. <br />
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There was no way I could afford to fix them. Jerry started praying for God to give me teeth. It's written in his prayer book day after day in 2012. <b><u>"Lord, give my wife new teeth."</u></b> Well, by now you know where this is going. One day a sassy older dentist I had never met saw me and said "I feel like I am supposed to bless you." Voila...<b><u>$7,000 of free dental work</u></b>. Yeah, that's right. My God is that specific. Here I am rockin the new pearly whites...ain't they pretty? <br />
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Next, my laptop got stolen and I cried (yes, I still lacked faith, right??). A week later I got a brand new one sent to me...<b><u>A MAC BOOK PRO!</u></b> Much better one than the one that the thief took. <br />
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It got almost crazy. I needed sweatpants, prayed for some, and a neighbor came by with some that didn't fit her.<br />
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<b><u>This goes on and on</u></b>, but I won't make you read forever. You get the idea.<br />
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On July 14th, right in the middle of it all, we decided to "just go" and pursue another adoption. We were still pretty <b>BROKE</b> at this point. We surely did not have one penny for an adoption. Guess what? Next week, we leave for Uganda to complete this adoption...<b><u>fully funded, at $14,000</u></b>. Every penny we need was donated from places we never, ever could have seen.<br />
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For my whole 50th year, God just kept showing me OVER AND OVER AND OVER that HE would <b><u>meet my every need, I just had to WAIT and TRUST and BELIEVE He would do it.</u></b><br />
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Today is my birthday. I am 51. We are no longer broke. Our business is thriving and we are paying our bills. I am not sharing all this to brag. <b><i><u>I am not good, I am not worthy</u></i></b>. <i><b><u>I don't know why He has blessed me. </u></b></i> But I do know my God is awesome beyond all understanding. He is <b><u>REAL</u></b>, and I would be remiss if I did not let you know ALL He can do. <b><u>God loves you and He is LAVISH.</u></b><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">He will surely be gracious to you at the sound of your cry; when He hears it, He will answer you. Isaiah 30:19</span></i><br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-105586965946890253.post-45740158834430608682012-12-07T12:28:00.003-08:002013-07-04T07:49:23.177-07:00God's Gift<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">In this season of so many wonderful gifts, I keep thinking about our son Nathan. All of my children are unique gifts. In fact, every one of my children would not be mine if it were not for the incredible love and sacrificial giving of many people, some strangers to me. None of my children came to me through the usual means...each one is a unique gift from a unique place. </span><br />
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When we learned we had an future son named Nathan, I was so full of joy. I had never had a son, and I felt this was a special gift from God to me. His name means "gift from God"...how perfect could that be?</span><br />
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Here is the first picture I ever took of my son on the day I met him at the orphanage. He didn't say much that day, but his smile and eyes had me swooning. </span><br />
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<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">But now that I have had the incredible privilege of raising Nathan for the last two years, I realize that I was thinking much too small in assuming he is God's gift to <u>me</u>. Because, no one I know loves God more than Nathan. From his first sentences in English, to this day, Nathan has talked to us each and every day about how much he loves God and wants to follow Him. He prays every day, he reads his Bible intently, he talks to his friends about Jesus and he wants to see angels. If you are in need of deep theological conversation, just stop over and strike up a conversation with our son about God. You will be astonished at the things he has pondered.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br />
One of the joys of this year was watching Nathan being baptized. He asked our pastor to baptize him and our pastor kindly obliged. The satisfied smile on his face tells the whole story.</span><br />
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<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Nathan made this act with great intention, and even chose two worship songs for the occasion. The first you probably know, "I Will Follow You" by Chris Tomlin. The second we did not know, but you will enjoy finding it on YouTube: "Jesus, You are My Superhero." Yes, that is right. Nathan had us all singing "You are better than Batman, you are better than Superman"...the kid always keeps us smiling.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br />
Speaking of smiling, he seems to make everyone else around him smile as well, not only his blessed family. He is greatly loved by his teachers, coaches and friends. Our neighbor calls him "Mr. Happy Legs" in recognition of his truly incredible athletic ability and seemingly endless energy. He is the first one up in our house seven days a week, and he never wears out of enthusiasm. Eventually, we force him to go to bed, but he won't rest before saying his nightly prayers, which include a sweet prayer from Uganda that he says every day: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><i>Look at me, Oh God</i></b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">As my heart all, <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">To you all I turn <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">For the sins I have committed <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I pray to be forgiven .<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">In all that I have been good <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I pray to be encouraged .<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">For under your guidance Oh God <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Where all is peace I'll be led ,<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Not to sob but to rejoice, <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">As my hand in yours lies.</span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I realize now that this little boy is much more
than a gift to me. He is a gift to all who know him. And, he is a
gift from God unto Himself. Nathan wants to be a pastor one day, and I
know his love and charisma will bring many to the joy of the Lord. He has
already started writing a "book about God", which essentially is a
treatise (in 9-year-old prose) on why God loves you and why you should love Him
in return. Here's an excerpt: </span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">"Jesus is your God and the Holy Ghost is your father. He will always be there for you even when you are alone. God promises that he will never ever forget you. When you see a rainbow, it reminds you that God will never leave you. God has the power to defeat Satan and you do too."</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Yes, these are the writings of my tiny son. (He also sings, dances, flips, scores, sweeps, folds, builds and draws...to name a few).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I can't even imagine my life now without this
funny, smart, kind, honest, compassionate, talented, annointed little
man. I can never thank God enough for this gift of all gifts.</span></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-105586965946890253.post-4840323650417646192012-09-12T19:09:00.000-07:002012-09-12T19:09:11.187-07:00Princess NaluWe call her Princess Nalu. Nalubega Ruth is her Ugandan name, and she is the princess of our family. It's hard to explain over this two dimensional page the miraculous transformation that has taken place in this child since she came to into our family two years ago. You would have to see it to believe it.<br />
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Ruth has experienced more loss and trauma in her short life than many of us ever know. Besides watching her father die and being abandoned to the orphanage by her mother, Ruth was run over in the village as a small child. When I met Ruth, she barely spoke, did not make eye contact, and dragged her leg painfully. She wouldn't look at me because she was sure I would not want her.<br />
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She never received medical treatment after the accident, and she confided to us later that she just lay in the village, could not even sit up, and eventually taught herself to walk again using sticks. She lived in chronic pain.<br />
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A few days after she came to America, this is what we learned.<br />
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Ruth had been walking around for seven years with her skeleton badly misaligned from the trauma, causing constant pain and an inability to run, sit on the floor or do anything but walk awkwardly. Her dream was to swim one day.<br />
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Enter into the story one of her ANGELS. While still in Uganda, I was praying for wisdom about how to help Ruth with her physical limitations, and God spoke to me two words, the name of this woman. She has been treating Ruth weekly for the last two years, and NEVER CHARGED US ONE PENNY.<br />
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Now my beautiful Ruthie can run, swim and dance! Bye bye pain, hello happiness. </div>
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(here she is about a year ago trying her first ever run with a little help from her big sister.)</div>
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Oh, and she would want me to mention that after considerable practice, she can also do the ultimate tween move...the split.<br />
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But, missing so much school as a result of her accident put her far behind other kids her age. The orphanage director told me to keep her back in school, that she had no confidence and her grades were very poor.<br />
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Enter ANGEL NUMBER 2. My husband's boss retired right around the time our kids were adopted. She wanted to do something meaningful with her life, and as a former teacher, asked if it would "be alright" if she tutored Ruth. Oh, and yea, she has NEVER CHARGED US ONE PENNY. Hello A/B Honor Roll! <br />
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You know how sometimes people will say: "How can you afford to have so many kids?" I just have to laugh. <u><em><strong>The blessings that will rain down on you if you step out in faith just defy explanation</strong></em></u>.</div>
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As a result of these TRUE ANGELS ON EARTH, my frightened, broken, silent little girl has blossomed like an amazing butterfly. She beams, she glows, she is stunning. It's hard to even explain how much we love her. She is truly our little princess.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-105586965946890253.post-50111667816087419572012-09-03T14:32:00.000-07:002012-09-03T16:00:03.750-07:00Awesome AgnesWe call her <strong>Awesome Aggie</strong> because she is so amazing in so many ways. I can't imagine my life without the wonderful relationship I have with this gifted child. She is just all heart...love, love, love. She gives it freely and lavishly, and she receives it just as graciously. There is nothing that can pick up my day like an Agnes hug...they are world-class.<br />
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Oh, and I have to confess, as her mama, I am thoroughly and completely obsessed with her cheeks.<br />
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Have you ever seen such lovely apple cheeks in all your life? This is not make-up...that is how they really look! It's probably a good thing I did not have her as a baby because I surely would have kissed those cheeks raw.<br />
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Here is how she looked the day I met her. I will never forget how she greeted me...with the strength and courage of a woman at the tender age of 13. <br />
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Her hands and feet were calloused from years of hard labor in the orphanage...her chore was to help the matrons do the laundry for the over 500 children who lived with her. Her strong back and strong spirit saved her from many of the trials she endured. Loneliness, hunger, rejection and disappointment did not break her spirit. She dreamed of a family and she dreamed of being a doctor. <br />
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Her gifts of mercy and compassion are like none I have seen. She loves anything and anyone that is vulnerable: animals, babies, old people. These gifts were honed while caring for her invalid grandmother and years and years of hundreds of children. She was one of the first children to live at the orphanage, when there were only a few children, and there was only tea for food.<br />
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But God was working in those many years, preparing her for her future dream of becoming a doctor. Agnes plans to become a Family Practicioner. We are so fortunate that she is able to attend a special high school where she is already learning medicine. She meets the bus early each morning, ready in her scrubs for the long ride. (again with the cheeks...)</div>
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She talks of returning to Uganda, building a hospital, and saving many lives. Is it any wonder that God brought her into our family so she could be on this path of healing and mercy? She is a joy to all who know her, especially her blessed family. </div>
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I often look forward to that day when her dad and I will sit at her medical school graduation (how old will we be by then?) What an awesome day that will be...knowing where she came from, and also where she is going and how God will use her.</div>
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Read more about Agnes, her writings and her story at her very own web site: <a href="http://aggiegiftedhands.weebly.com/">http://aggiegiftedhands.weebly.com/</a></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-105586965946890253.post-30061855301513471672012-01-31T16:33:00.000-08:002012-01-31T16:33:52.569-08:00What a Difference a Decade Makes!<div style="text-align: center;">
As today is my <strong>50th birthday</strong>, I can't help but reflect on what a difference a decade makes! Looking back over the first half of my life, it seems I can measure it decade by decade with each milestone birthday.</div>
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Here I am on my <strong>30th birthday</strong> (receiving a gift from my sweet niece, Caitlyn, who is now soon to be married!). </div>
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This was perhaps one of the happiest day of my life. I had been released from the hospital that morning and was technically on bedrest (aka "stay-seated-at-the-party") as I was pregnant with my amazing Mackenzie and having complications. After three years of infertility treatments and then life-threatening pregnancy complications, I had feared I would never be a Mom. But on this day, January 31, 1992, I somehow <em>knew</em> my baby would be born and that everything was going to be ok. </div>
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Looking back now on how many tears I cried thinking I was "barren", it tickles me to realize what God had already planned for my nest...</div>
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My thirties were happy, idyllic, and very, very hard. I found myself a single parent, and I made so, so many mistakes. I chased after the wrong things and the wrong people. I wanted to do good in the world, but my flesh always got in the way. I kept looking for some person to rescue me, when all the time God was the one who kept pulling me out of the mire. I searched for "religion" but never found a relationship with my Creator. </div>
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Finally, my <strong>40th birthday</strong> rolled around...</div>
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Although I had many friends, a good job, 2 beautiful kids, a nice house and a "boyfriend", I didn't have what I needed most. God. And it was on this day that I decided to give it ALL to Him. I am not sure how I really got to that decision except that I just got totally fed up with chasing after status and appearances. I had no peace. I needed peace above anything else. I realized nothing of this world was going to make me happy and I was finally able to STOP and give it all to HIM. </div>
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And since I made that decision, God has opened up my life in ways I NEVER could have imagined. First of all, He sent the right guy to my front door...I didn't even have to go looking for him!</div>
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Next, he brought me to a fellowship of believers where I met Christ in a whole new way, and He filled me with the gift of the Holy Spirit.</div>
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At age 45, I asked to be baptized by immersion, telling God He could have the whole second half of my life...</div>
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Then, He called me to Africa. How could I have ever known EVERYTHING He had for me there. In that place, He broke my heart for the orphan, and I have never been the same.</div>
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(Yes, I am holding a live chicken. If you have ever been a missionary to Africa, you have been blessed with a chicken.)</div>
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And shortly after that, He called me to be the director for Orphan Sunday...a movement that would touch orphans ALL OVER THE WORLD by God's grace!</div>
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And then, He led me to my three amazing Ugandan kids. WOW. </div>
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And through all of this, I have witnessed miracle after miracle. So many that I already know the title of my next book: "My Life In Miracles". There is not enough room on the internet for me to express the Goodness, the Richness, the Beauty of God's love for me and all He has allowed me to experience in the last decade. </div>
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Some of these miracles are documented on this blog...more will have to wait to be written.</div>
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If you are asking God for a miracle in your life, try giving it ALL to Him. I hope you don't have to get to the crummy place that I was at 40 to force you to make that decision. I hope you don't have to get <em>anywhere</em> near that place! Just give it ALL to Him...it's all His anyway. </div>
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And just watch the miracles unfold.</div>
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-105586965946890253.post-55027521841536608882011-05-08T19:06:00.000-07:002012-01-31T18:14:58.478-08:00Mother's Day MiracleToday was a beautiful day filled with all the joys of a Mother's Day...kid-prepared meals that trash the kitchen, gifts from the "Dollar Store", homemade cards, and even a ceramic treasure from school. <br />
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As I relished every moment, I wondered what would be the highlight of my amazing first Mother's day with all five of my beautiful children. <br />
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It came early. <br />
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As we always do on Sundays, we went to church. Our service begins with several worship songs, and I love this form of prayer. One of the songs had a chorus that said "I love you, I love you." This was written to be directed at God, but since it was so fitting, I opened my eyes and made eye contact with each of my kids, one by one down the row, and sang the words "I love you" to them. <br />
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Back to my eyes closed praying, the next verse of the songs goes "I need you, I need you." I was deep in prayer, but I felt a small tap on my shoulder. Quiet Ruthie, always sitting the furthest from me, was trying to get my attention. She looked deep into my eyes (eye contact is not common for her) and sang the words "I need you, I need you" while pointing at me and smiling. <br />
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Pop - there goes my heart bursting. <br />
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This may not sound like a big deal to you, but you should know that of all my children, Ruth is the most distant. Since her adoption, she has been the slowest to bond to us. She avoids affection and hugs. She won't tell us what she needs. When she first arrived, things were very bad. She had been so hurt so many times that she told my husband "I don't respect any women" and she would barely speak to me. She did not want my love, my discipline, my guidance. She had lived years without a mother she could depend on, so she wasn't going to risk trusting now. <br />
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But slowly, very slowly, she has come to open her heart like a blossoming flower. She will tell me things now, and ask for my help, and even hug me every once in a while (but not for too long). <br />
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So when she looked at me with those huge chocolate eyes this morning and happily sang "I need you", I knew we had arrived. I was her Mom, and she was my daughter, and she was OK with that. My joy was complete. <br />
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p.s. Yes, she gave me pot scrubbers for Mother's Day...we still have a few things to work on.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-105586965946890253.post-59126973576690445102011-02-19T16:34:00.000-08:002011-02-20T17:21:45.615-08:00The Heart of Jesus<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This post perhaps should be called </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>"Mackenzie and Jesus vs. the Enemy, Round 3"</strong>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Since Mackenzie gave her life to the Lord when she was 13 years old, she has had three medical emergencies requiring hospitalization. Each has been unexpected and inexplicably severe. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A few weeks ago, Mackenzie again found herself in a dire medical crisis involving great suffering. Through a bizarre set of circumstances, she hurt her leg badly and then got stuck in the middle of a blizzard that crippled all operations in Tulsa, where she attends college. It took about 24 hours to figure out how to safely get her to a hospital, expecting her badly swollen leg to be the only issue. When she arrived at the ER, the physicians said she had developed a life-threatening condition called Rhabdomyolysis. This occurs when a muscle begins to die, and it produces a protein that cannot be processed by the kidneys. Mackenzie was in the early stages of renal failure and her urine was charcoal black. Doctors also said they might have to do emergency surgery to "save her leg."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Over the next two days, her situation was critical and I spent 48 hours in airports trying to get to her. People all over the world lifted her up in prayer. When I finally arrived, I found her like this:</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0u3H1E_jtPXs4gr0sACoHtvdpVb7o_9gH9y2Msev-2QIDLTIQIQXzNrOB_clMq1dnrsef_OtXqW7cmP2Qx5P1n_FJOwoDWf-5VHUwQS5y56HOPmgErNzE4nmnbhNgMSxugXPZG3ktliKl/s1600/143.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0u3H1E_jtPXs4gr0sACoHtvdpVb7o_9gH9y2Msev-2QIDLTIQIQXzNrOB_clMq1dnrsef_OtXqW7cmP2Qx5P1n_FJOwoDWf-5VHUwQS5y56HOPmgErNzE4nmnbhNgMSxugXPZG3ktliKl/s400/143.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Her legs were unable to move and being compressed by the machine at the bottom left of the photo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(devices from this machine are attached to each of her calves).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was to maintain her circulation since her right leg was so swollen unable to move.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In addition, she had an indwelling catheter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was receiving massive amounts of IV fluids to reverse her kidney dysfunction from the muscle break-down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She could not leave the bed and was kept comfortable with morphine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her vital functions and urine were being monitored hourly and she was submitting to blood tests several times per day, leaving her with both arms badly bruised.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Now keep in mind, this is the girl who has worshipped God thru dance for many years. The one who plans to live in all the hard places of the planet as a missionary.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirtHsuR5WxoLLyeMozkBgpTOiWZpiXfPyStV4buYFZp5H4BdcsZAipJkECvkdLZr7k0rq76f3q7nyaZ0fREZ4jdDQ_igPdBcNG9PR3zYrLs1vAIwu4Ho8X2gOJvYG3Qx0uMR-f6YExdlSJ/s1600/332+bw+copy%255B1%255D+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirtHsuR5WxoLLyeMozkBgpTOiWZpiXfPyStV4buYFZp5H4BdcsZAipJkECvkdLZr7k0rq76f3q7nyaZ0fREZ4jdDQ_igPdBcNG9PR3zYrLs1vAIwu4Ho8X2gOJvYG3Qx0uMR-f6YExdlSJ/s400/332+bw+copy%255B1%255D+%25282%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhYWp8mMISJbzJEfT8rtaf-vL_cYtlnYL5aSZM2jZNMNxR6UNoiFrHiQ4f3CFunkm5beZFe8q4GIcfI5m1KQICqTXltYj1Xn86abFKr2_kHwQxCx1_DGgRcTyc5pbRGmGEM2k-89AF3pI4/s1600/untitled.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhYWp8mMISJbzJEfT8rtaf-vL_cYtlnYL5aSZM2jZNMNxR6UNoiFrHiQ4f3CFunkm5beZFe8q4GIcfI5m1KQICqTXltYj1Xn86abFKr2_kHwQxCx1_DGgRcTyc5pbRGmGEM2k-89AF3pI4/s320/untitled.bmp" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi39_V3hKiY07nZSIGhjwPBjPAJ7N6KKX8EiaPrrgnVeaWT2qIJrt5trZ8ZTaXUyXMpus5aOoHpOpTU8hC6Lc5E_6YGMN0tXb3KkG_qKYZNHDohQ2BpKPBdjErjxvBpqEYzoj2LGJ4NfeBr/s1600/DSC_0359+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi39_V3hKiY07nZSIGhjwPBjPAJ7N6KKX8EiaPrrgnVeaWT2qIJrt5trZ8ZTaXUyXMpus5aOoHpOpTU8hC6Lc5E_6YGMN0tXb3KkG_qKYZNHDohQ2BpKPBdjErjxvBpqEYzoj2LGJ4NfeBr/s400/DSC_0359+%25281%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The day after I made it to Tulsa, the orthopedist came into Mackenzie's room late one night to tell her the prognosis. He flatly stated that she would have "permanent loss" to the strength and mobility in her right leg. He said that part of the muscle had died, and that the dead tissue would be replaced with scar tissue. He said there was no way to tell right now what her recovery would be. And then he left. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">It was still snowing in Tulsa and the hospital was operating under emergency conditions. Sub-zero temperatures had resulted in a broken water main, no running water, no clean laundry. The hospital room was dark, dirty and depressing. Mackenzie was on the pediatric unit and sick babies cried around us. We sat there in the dark in the middle of the night. I held her hand and we wept while she struggled with the pain and fear. We got to a very, very dark place of desperation. And then, we went to Jesus.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">There was nothing to do but cry out to Him. We were so desperate that nothing else seemed possible. I can't explain it but after a while of praying, it felt like we went right into His heart. We felt His suffering for us. We cried out not only for Mackenzie, but for the sick babies all around. For all the sick babies everywhere. We asked for them to be healed. She said to me at one point that night: "Mom, if I have to be the missionary that makes it around the world in a wheelchair, than that is what it's going to be. Nothing is going to stop me." Mackenzie fully surrendered to Christ that night. She said "my future life is in Your hands." It was her suffering that brought her fully to His suffering for her.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The next day during physician rounds, the team announced that Mackenzie had made inexplicable, startling progress in her tests overnight, and that she could try walking. They were going to send in a couple of therapists to see what she could do. Keep in mind, up to this point she had not moved IN or FROM the bed in days.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4NuyD-pF1VPGjvoXBYutkVvYdl7zHA7p8on4voA399Vn41rwIzFg1tDPAlSGtPcNFZyoD7LYOFLJiXprFE03wW0xXloQLC_3D1lEtLZMD7DvkHhtTYbqWxS-C8n6JVUdDyGnLiIcRG1LG/s1600/146.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4NuyD-pF1VPGjvoXBYutkVvYdl7zHA7p8on4voA399Vn41rwIzFg1tDPAlSGtPcNFZyoD7LYOFLJiXprFE03wW0xXloQLC_3D1lEtLZMD7DvkHhtTYbqWxS-C8n6JVUdDyGnLiIcRG1LG/s400/146.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not knowing what they were dealing with (Mackenzie plus Jesus is a powerful force), next thing we knew, she was zipping down the hallway with the speed of a 90-year-old-arthritic. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiChCdLMAP1fsJOPg48BlmTbxKtJowPrsnrAcP7uYIusHBsRWH4tQ1b5izO_gGyJsCytP88q8UJjQYbYbEOLOlQ8w-oTXr_SW8HnSIi2mmxCHs1hV3TiEdUzT07A3CKH18pBNQbUhgEu3Mr/s1600/148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiChCdLMAP1fsJOPg48BlmTbxKtJowPrsnrAcP7uYIusHBsRWH4tQ1b5izO_gGyJsCytP88q8UJjQYbYbEOLOlQ8w-oTXr_SW8HnSIi2mmxCHs1hV3TiEdUzT07A3CKH18pBNQbUhgEu3Mr/s320/148.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Within a few days, she was discharged from the hospital. Here are the college students who showed up at our hotel room when they learned she was out! (Mackenzie is actually IN the bed, while they are just ON it.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqtB0blskYkVxxOTy1agfi7VFQLV5GooMpIYwwqTTSi3iIaDkFvxRZ70Cie7ISmLIS8WRlY4yRmgEPT2TibxJDIDETrNbt9LOyvICvA6i4o5P2BVVVuZHTN2155VX6f-KYmDzmkh1N4M_A/s1600/180375_1868811645711_1403672947_32111172_270020_n%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqtB0blskYkVxxOTy1agfi7VFQLV5GooMpIYwwqTTSi3iIaDkFvxRZ70Cie7ISmLIS8WRlY4yRmgEPT2TibxJDIDETrNbt9LOyvICvA6i4o5P2BVVVuZHTN2155VX6f-KYmDzmkh1N4M_A/s320/180375_1868811645711_1403672947_32111172_270020_n%255B1%255D.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The next day we were cleared to take her home, and off we went on an 18 hour car ride. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAvpH_ShUk-rBu9dxe2N7vnhRX-Q5TZFRaLhfoyv0aB00TiN4WaTp-5lrqIg6C4PccHLBo-6rB2zkNnz57D8HKKADwUF9zIfu9YP5AOFWJ5ZIXk9I5L1FTTHh9KcxyLGI1WfOD8h_ZDuX3/s1600/photo%255B1%255D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAvpH_ShUk-rBu9dxe2N7vnhRX-Q5TZFRaLhfoyv0aB00TiN4WaTp-5lrqIg6C4PccHLBo-6rB2zkNnz57D8HKKADwUF9zIfu9YP5AOFWJ5ZIXk9I5L1FTTHh9KcxyLGI1WfOD8h_ZDuX3/s1600/photo%255B1%255D.JPG" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We had to stop every two hours at some of the WORST gas stations. At the most scary one, three drug dealers interrupted their negotiations and rushed to open the door as Mackenzie struggled across the parking lot with her walker. When we got safely into the bathroom, she said "Wow, this walker is a great evangelism tool. Did you see those guys feeling compassion for the poor crippled girl? I could do some amazing ministry with this thing." Yeah, that's my girl. (photo withheld to protect the identity of the hoodlums/future Christians.)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">To everyone's astonishment except hers, Mackenzie returned to college yesterday, without a walker or cane. After two weeks of rest and PT, she wanted to get back to school and "not fall behind in class." And, she wanted the chance to share what God had done for her.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Last night, wearing the dress she bought previously and some flats purchased since the accident, she bravely attended the homecoming dance at school. Here she is, smiting Satan yet again. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJPeYQ0g3keb5gQkh6phPMVP-9Qo9gKb6epq15QLKDhmkKSZjc4gf4h0vQJpWcTlY9u0ffOmuF8Kp-RZhh5QpVGRMZTjeSxvBRUJNPgSl43GkDDRYx4Qh0uKYIbOANnPlAlapshcw3W2_P/s1600/2011_February_19077%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJPeYQ0g3keb5gQkh6phPMVP-9Qo9gKb6epq15QLKDhmkKSZjc4gf4h0vQJpWcTlY9u0ffOmuF8Kp-RZhh5QpVGRMZTjeSxvBRUJNPgSl43GkDDRYx4Qh0uKYIbOANnPlAlapshcw3W2_P/s400/2011_February_19077%255B1%255D.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><strong> </strong></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><strong>SCORECARD: Jesus: 3. Satan: 0.</strong></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-105586965946890253.post-2109373052822003762011-01-08T19:56:00.000-08:002011-01-09T05:09:42.067-08:00I am mad at UgandaThe first time I went to Uganda in 2008, I fell in love with the country. I loved everything about it: the beautiful people, the lush countryside, the music, the dancing, the culture. I loved the rich red earth and the smell of the cooking fires rising up the hillsides each night. I loved the tidy fields of tea farms and the tranquil beauty of the Nile. I loved the majestic animals and the friendly smiles on faces everywhere.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv7Hcf6PhsIqs4BaPYsYKH9oY7ZY-WdDGtwifyL4s7Fp2dayiVROT2jOQnDOeOMllzVhvDxHhLjfIFWwm09MtKFVQhrDDA4ZMaAAt0rcd-K_IW0KtWNnx_fQUo-0gx6pprVQyNuDNPen4c/s1600/DSC_0019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCIidKUJ_vR9BHlkd2wwD9XNXEeR7GTZef4ey4ZMEQ6Wk65igFEzOqC6ANfTm4WEeRDhYoBGgvIsHefRi2cTV0hyR_IQ9rDfU8AsOMJ-nG8ZpID_Q51acXX4-Wr28-4gnGvpsFUNC_d330/s1600/IMG_0212.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCIidKUJ_vR9BHlkd2wwD9XNXEeR7GTZef4ey4ZMEQ6Wk65igFEzOqC6ANfTm4WEeRDhYoBGgvIsHefRi2cTV0hyR_IQ9rDfU8AsOMJ-nG8ZpID_Q51acXX4-Wr28-4gnGvpsFUNC_d330/s400/IMG_0212.JPG" width="400" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv7Hcf6PhsIqs4BaPYsYKH9oY7ZY-WdDGtwifyL4s7Fp2dayiVROT2jOQnDOeOMllzVhvDxHhLjfIFWwm09MtKFVQhrDDA4ZMaAAt0rcd-K_IW0KtWNnx_fQUo-0gx6pprVQyNuDNPen4c/s1600/DSC_0019.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv7Hcf6PhsIqs4BaPYsYKH9oY7ZY-WdDGtwifyL4s7Fp2dayiVROT2jOQnDOeOMllzVhvDxHhLjfIFWwm09MtKFVQhrDDA4ZMaAAt0rcd-K_IW0KtWNnx_fQUo-0gx6pprVQyNuDNPen4c/s400/DSC_0019.JPG" width="400" /></a><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJp9_fU1xDmIR3-rgjcc2k1qj-NMrZw_775kkuyfMPWieV9AXaeZsTVukxyWZaUQX4TtjOsj43-BXnYAVVYMz7Cn7dUrtwKLwtgUY4zkQPc0M-6fL4s_0rHnXcbV0847IBe-z7N_XLGkaw/s1600/Marty%2527s+family.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="346" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJp9_fU1xDmIR3-rgjcc2k1qj-NMrZw_775kkuyfMPWieV9AXaeZsTVukxyWZaUQX4TtjOsj43-BXnYAVVYMz7Cn7dUrtwKLwtgUY4zkQPc0M-6fL4s_0rHnXcbV0847IBe-z7N_XLGkaw/s400/Marty%2527s+family.JPG" width="400" /></a></div></div> I loved Uganda so much that I could not wait to return. I dreamed of it, yearned for it, pined for it for the next nine months...and then I went back. Once again, I was in love. This time with the children, all the children, especially three amazing children who were to be my own. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDpq7oSiVnKOMRDsGvU7DNvV6xW8dgYG_A2i-rRa4gyoXMr1GgLa93yQA6ZH1YdBx62o2JSi-du481cx9XCc9z9XIcv1G7D4kPEEoN7zlhHO1EwExBEL7xOpQc9S9KjB0nOqvzSUUKXN0p/s1600/DSC_0162+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDpq7oSiVnKOMRDsGvU7DNvV6xW8dgYG_A2i-rRa4gyoXMr1GgLa93yQA6ZH1YdBx62o2JSi-du481cx9XCc9z9XIcv1G7D4kPEEoN7zlhHO1EwExBEL7xOpQc9S9KjB0nOqvzSUUKXN0p/s400/DSC_0162+%25282%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyrUfyew1pc8h8UbbOJQAGriWM769YuTi46LmYQU6EoQe6P-M2dNd29bgjVh5pTTKChE_mvJxQ8yTCcJ3ZPmC_rj7x4sr_MMkrQ5TD8PdUCW2ZdKYTIItBuEp5HmgiZoQgBnHoy4geT9du/s1600/DSC_0190.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyrUfyew1pc8h8UbbOJQAGriWM769YuTi46LmYQU6EoQe6P-M2dNd29bgjVh5pTTKChE_mvJxQ8yTCcJ3ZPmC_rj7x4sr_MMkrQ5TD8PdUCW2ZdKYTIItBuEp5HmgiZoQgBnHoy4geT9du/s400/DSC_0190.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Leaving this second time was like cutting out your heart, leaving it on the operating table and walking out of the hospital to get on a plane. My heart sat parked in Uganda for 18 months while I fought the insanity of governments, both mine and foreign, until I could return to claim my children. <br />
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For those 18 months, I thought of Uganda every day for 547 days. Every morning I thought of Uganda and every night I wished for it as I fell asleep. I asked, pleaded and eventually begged God through tears to bring me back to Uganda. And finally, He did.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC20KP25TWcaI39nTpWcR_ZROP0yyph0DBeyOrBtKrvrYAm0Tl0zIxnOaHuMqQFBdQiQuGLmrrofX4U8zJJbfK6yukbQ9-zmHGiAT9dSXvDbmrNwCoUGn_Ttdvo7dk10yYtunbC0S5ve5E/s1600/IMG_0186.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC20KP25TWcaI39nTpWcR_ZROP0yyph0DBeyOrBtKrvrYAm0Tl0zIxnOaHuMqQFBdQiQuGLmrrofX4U8zJJbfK6yukbQ9-zmHGiAT9dSXvDbmrNwCoUGn_Ttdvo7dk10yYtunbC0S5ve5E/s400/IMG_0186.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But, upon my third time to return to the "Pearl of Africa", something happened. <i>I got to know my children.</i> I started to hear their stories. I comforted them after their bad dreams. I got doctor's reports about their conditions. I learned where their scars came from, both visible and invisible. And sitting here now home from Uganda for two months, I am angry with Uganda.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div>I am angry at this place that robbed my children of their childhood.<br />
I am angry that my children spent most of their lives hungry.<br />
I am angry that they lived in fear.<br />
I am angry that they have witnessed more death than I will probably ever see in my whole life.<br />
I am angry that they know how to wrap and bury a corpse,<br />
that their hands are calloused from hard labor,<br />
that their prayers are full of petitions for the friends who have nothing,<br />
that they want to sleep with lights on because too many bad things have happened at night.<br />
I am angry at this place.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ1l-vUX2pGMHtvbyhEmd1zCcjck9ckkYqMmMmCBOUgEin8k8x1F2TLTgP2xWiWvxHeOGubYJ-Alwj2GMC9E6x6cMbhxWqcGD-FDz890H2voFU-zR-5-FImZwpe3DqC24o26FlRO30XcAZ/s1600/DSC_0078.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ1l-vUX2pGMHtvbyhEmd1zCcjck9ckkYqMmMmCBOUgEin8k8x1F2TLTgP2xWiWvxHeOGubYJ-Alwj2GMC9E6x6cMbhxWqcGD-FDz890H2voFU-zR-5-FImZwpe3DqC24o26FlRO30XcAZ/s400/DSC_0078.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
This place can never give them back what has been taken. My princess will never forget the agony of lying in pain with no doctor to help her for months; my son will never forget crying alone in his bed at the orphanage when he just a toddler; my teen will never forget being so hopeless and hungry that she wanted to drink rat poison and end it all...by the age of nine.<br />
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The children keep asking me if we will visit this place, this place I loved like my own. And every time they ask me, I have to turn my face from them. How can a place so beautiful be the source of so much pain? I know I will return with my children one day and we will rejoice at this homecoming. We will eat the food, we will smell the earth, we will dance with the people. But first, I have to get over what this place has done to my precious ones. I am mad at Uganda right now.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhxxLGFzEPBF15nbAViSqsssKVpkgD0kl8mF8fwir4ipt7E5cbRc3yIVVqQVDeAyo1H3mOGiRNeZVPcdkV9wDsCR4_X8siQY0TvnrOaYa2El2UG1OeP1yfs5ksIc0bedz8Se4-Ymxfv3O0/s1600/164713_468139061785_675596785_6202309_2425158_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhxxLGFzEPBF15nbAViSqsssKVpkgD0kl8mF8fwir4ipt7E5cbRc3yIVVqQVDeAyo1H3mOGiRNeZVPcdkV9wDsCR4_X8siQY0TvnrOaYa2El2UG1OeP1yfs5ksIc0bedz8Se4-Ymxfv3O0/s1600/164713_468139061785_675596785_6202309_2425158_n.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL6oLtt2QvvkREJoo3FSIMX1fngazws758WQrv8Ov7LpRoGtEg89YuDMl_M9WbVUpoRkFXQqSPTUenUHzLkWo3Hj0_4HR_XSF4NXEAwr2EPIyQFRe9MfDXYnBGX7rx24spo4Ics6TbQ1b7/s1600/164713_468139061785_675596785_6202309_2425158_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-105586965946890253.post-36315914564635767572010-12-09T07:31:00.000-08:002010-12-09T09:49:02.145-08:00Love Waits, and Lets GoI have just learned that our children's grandmother died shortly after we took them from Uganda. I am speechless thinking of how powerful love is. When I met this woman, I could not believe she was still alive.<br />
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She lay in a dark, tiny room in a house the size of my master bathroom. She lay on a thin mattress on the floor surrounded by, well, nothing. The children had been sleeping at her side on the hard ground. As best I can tell and from all reports, she had not been off that mat in almost a year. The widow of her grandson had cared for her for months. There was no food in the house.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSAI5pmsEAPdnp6GQ-QkEgpubEeBwrabUnlqtUKJ4x9lDkfCy-6EVnzmOYfw3dbxW-tXS4Wkeh7xUovbJHk5rJBtzZMKduS2iXarM0lNLvnvyvHu0SWagNw0A9rIG46miszh9sGX3-TgSv/s1600/Jaja+Uganda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSAI5pmsEAPdnp6GQ-QkEgpubEeBwrabUnlqtUKJ4x9lDkfCy-6EVnzmOYfw3dbxW-tXS4Wkeh7xUovbJHk5rJBtzZMKduS2iXarM0lNLvnvyvHu0SWagNw0A9rIG46miszh9sGX3-TgSv/s400/Jaja+Uganda.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I knelt at her side and she took my hand and began a long interview which she had clearly planned. While Agnes translated, she asked me about my family, my lineage, "did I favor my father or my mother"? When all her questions were answered, she looked peaceful and satisfied. I asked her for her blessing about the adoption, and she said that we have it. I asked her to pray that we would have favor with the Ugandan courts, as we had not yet seen the judge. She answered "Do not fear. God has already spoken to me that the children are yours."<br />
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Then, we all gathered around her and prayed for her. We prayed that she would have no pain, that she would have peace and be with the Lord.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwwJ2w2dxSS-yBez66vBNXFqec7MLku5XQFJ1Kf1KXDwS25Bf6gPmgSiusspto9PrY6xQ-iq5MWRambpvr2Ikx2yIK-I5t9uuPnN8ztJMquhmmSLvPaQlZ6oedC4XSUUUkXxFLeHm1MQmh/s1600/IMG%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwwJ2w2dxSS-yBez66vBNXFqec7MLku5XQFJ1Kf1KXDwS25Bf6gPmgSiusspto9PrY6xQ-iq5MWRambpvr2Ikx2yIK-I5t9uuPnN8ztJMquhmmSLvPaQlZ6oedC4XSUUUkXxFLeHm1MQmh/s400/IMG%255B1%255D.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">About two weeks later, the day we were leaving Uganda, we went again to see her. She was serene and did not seem emotional about the departure of the grandchildren. In fact, she just seemed tired. The children kissed her and we hurried to the car that was taking us to the airport.</div><br />
Today I have learned that shortly after we left, she died. <br />
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How powerful is a love that can hold off death? Surely she should have died months ago. <em><u>I always felt she was waiting for me to come, and now I know that she was</u></em>. The transfer had been made, the exchange complete. Her love was so powerful that she could stave off death until she knew the children were safely in the arms of another.<br />
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Surely only God can give us a love this great. I pray she is seated at the throne of love. I pray I can live up to a love that mighty.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-105586965946890253.post-61225641292515308442010-10-12T05:22:00.000-07:002010-10-12T05:22:29.286-07:00In the Strength I HaveFew people who know me now are aware that I was born with a chronic blood condition. My family line includes a genetic abnormality of the blood that could be characterized as serious. My bone marrow does not produce a proper blood molecule. For the first half of my life, I struggled with this condition. I fought fatigue daily and lived in an anemic state. During the worst times, I would require transfusions of other's donated blood just to function normally. Over my life, I have had many, many of these given to me by selfless donors:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw0eqvJrqSZFhCyoFoSI3d7KXyx1ItrcsuPX5cy35dv39bi_o2RWKpeiQY59Ovv7F1EeKMd3D-o0jDKelDb3IXXyW6wQT1-RyhWOhLvndzy53kOlWQGboz3uai3LAiULnfW12XhAWIwOOJ/s1600/blood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw0eqvJrqSZFhCyoFoSI3d7KXyx1ItrcsuPX5cy35dv39bi_o2RWKpeiQY59Ovv7F1EeKMd3D-o0jDKelDb3IXXyW6wQT1-RyhWOhLvndzy53kOlWQGboz3uai3LAiULnfW12XhAWIwOOJ/s1600/blood.jpg" /></a></div>I spent my life fighting this struggle, never knowing when it would be befall me. Usually, it would strike at the time I most needed strength. For example, during my pregnancy, I required 16 units of blood, 8 during my delivery.<br />
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So, I always adjusted to being a person who had to be "careful". Who had to think carefully about where she went, what she did, and how much it would tax her system.<br />
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In 2002, I dedicated myself to living for God. In 2007, I was baptized by immersion and declared it the mid-point of my life. I told God the second half was all His. <br />
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A few months later, I was at a church service with my friend who had been experiencing terrible pain in her feet. The pastor said that he felt led to pray for anyone who needed healing. I sat next to my friend and agreed with her in prayer that she would be delivered from pain. With my arm around her, I bowed my head and prayed with my whole being that she would be healed. I BELIEVED she would be healed. As the pastor walked past us praying, I felt a strange sensation like electricity shoot through my body. It felt like I had been shocked, but it was not painful. I particularly felt it in my bones. <br />
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A few days later, my friend called to say that her feet no longer hurt. Life went on but something was different. After a few weeks, I noticed I was feeling really great. Weeks turned into months, and my husband said one day "Have you noticed that you have not had any symptoms of your condition?" That was three years ago. I have not had one symptom, one episode since that day.<br />
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When I went in for my annual physical that year, my doctor said "where have you been?" <br />
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When God called me to the orphan, He asked me to go lots of places and do lots of things that I would not have imagined. One time I was afraid I did not have the strength to go, and He said "Why do you think I healed you?" Ah...now I understand.<br />
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Today, I go again. God has called us back to Africa. This time, to adopt three precious children, and to continue several missions He has revealed to us. I am 48 years old. I could never have imagined that I could take on such a task. Anyone mother reading this knows that raising a child brings its own kind of exhaustion. Yes, I am afraid, but I know my God is with me. <br />
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One of my favorite stories of the Bible is about Gideon. He was called to do great things, but he wanted to hide. He was scared and did not think he could do it. God told him <b><i>"Go in the strength you have."</i></b> Before God healed me, I had taken that scripture as my verse. Always lacking strength, it gave me the courage to press on. Now that I live normally, I find I need that verse just as much. Because that is all God asks of us: to just go in the strength He has given us, however meager that might be. And He will be with us.<br />
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<i>"The Lord turned to him and said, "Go in the strength you have and save Israel out of Midian's hand. Am I not sending you?"</i><br />
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<i>"But Lord", Gideon answered, "how can I save Israel? My clan is the weakest in Manassah, and I am the least in the family."</i><br />
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<i>The Lord answered, "I will be with you...." Judges 6:14-16 </i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-105586965946890253.post-10931660331468610582010-09-28T05:42:00.000-07:002010-09-28T09:18:03.339-07:00A Mother's LoveA lot has been written about a mother's love, about what a mother will do for her children. Yesterday I heard a story of a mother's love that haunts me...because of the greatness of this mother's love, but more so because of the greatness of the scourge that could create her situation.<br />
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There are lots of adoptions happening in Uganda right now. After six months of the process being closed earlier this year, the channels are flowing again, and family upon family from America are in Uganda joyfully bringing home their adoptive children.<br />
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I can only imagine how it feels to the learned judges of the High Court of Uganda that approve these cases. They love their country. They have served it well. They overcame great odds to become attorneys and now justices. And in the last thirty years, they have seen their country ravaged by war and AIDS and poverty, so much so that they now must preside over the process of sending its next generation to another land. How bittersweet this must be...seeing all that promise for the future sent elsewhere.<br />
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In one case yesterday, a woman from Texas is seeking to adopt three older children living in a orphanage. These children have a living mother. Like many children in this country, their mother has placed them in an orphanage because she is unable to feed them. Once widowed or abandoned, a Ugandan woman has little hope of earning enough to feed herself, much less a larger family.<br />
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For reasons only the judge understands, he approved the Texas family to adopt the two older children, but ruled that the younger girl, around age eight or nine, must remain in Uganda. The birth mother was in the courtroom for the proceedings, and one might think that this decision would give her great joy. One of her children was being preserved for her. But, that is not what happened.<br />
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This birth mother got on her knees before the judge and wept. She pleaded and begged him to let her daughter be adopted and go to America.<br />
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Last night, I could not sleep thinking about that woman. What must it take for her to beg a judge to send her little girl away, perhaps never to be seen again? How desperate must be her circumstances? How much must she love her child to make this ultimate sacrifice? And perhaps most tragically, how unjust is it that America is so full of plenty while sweet mothers around the world suffer to even feed their children?<br />
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Mothers of the World, rise up! These women are our sisters. God has called us to come alongside them. Try to imagine that the tables are turned. Try to imagine YOUR children are starving while millions of mothers just across the sea drink lattes and watch television. What would YOU want them to do? What would you BEG them to do?<br />
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Mother the World! <a href="http://www.mothertheworld.org/">www.mothertheworld.org</a> <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzTmjvF-0WCcI7Lm4SFC_Dol86ZzxoAcdnwGU5iT55LsplVGtC0NdmTpJHP6ouInSbl3Ei1M3Jeu8chvNwqID8__8035WXWivXPSPPJhHEuAyQlCCly7PUZkAuSffV2A2JDda7_yuQtEX1/s1600/Picture+19.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="66" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzTmjvF-0WCcI7Lm4SFC_Dol86ZzxoAcdnwGU5iT55LsplVGtC0NdmTpJHP6ouInSbl3Ei1M3Jeu8chvNwqID8__8035WXWivXPSPPJhHEuAyQlCCly7PUZkAuSffV2A2JDda7_yuQtEX1/s320/Picture+19.png" width="320" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-105586965946890253.post-34270542501130738612010-09-19T05:59:00.000-07:002013-06-16T11:41:17.785-07:00Big DadOur little boy Nathan has only seen my husband in photos. Nathan first father died when he was very young, just a toddler. This little guy desperately wants a father. We were told recently that after looking at pictures of Jerry, Nathan commented with pride "That is a really big Dad!" <br />
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Oh Nathan, if you only knew. Yes my son, God has blessed you with a really big dad. <br />
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The biggest thing about this dad is his heart. As a metaphor for his life, when Jerry was being delivered, the doctor in rural Louisiana told his sweet mother that he had died in the womb, and she labored all night thinking he would be still born. It turns out, Jerry's heartbeat was so strong, the doctor mistook it for his mother's! And so he burst forth, a big, bouncing over-ten-pounder, grinning away. Fifty years later, his mother still had tears in her eyes telling me of that moment.<br />
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God had a big purpose for that big-hearted baby. Over the course of his life, he has been called again and again to be a big dad. Three prophets on two continents have spoken this scripture over my husband:<br />
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<em>Genesis 17:3-4 Abram fell face down, and God said to him, "As for me, this is my covenant with you: You will be the father of many nations."</em><br />
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Some years ago, the enemy tried to take Jerry out. It broke him almost completely. He lost everything...his marriage, his home, his job, his car. In his darkest moment, he did the only thing he knew left to do. He fell on his face and cried out to God to help him. And God showed up. Like with Abraham, God is not only blessing Jerry but giving him so much more than he could have ever dreamed of before.<br />
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In the last five years, God has added this one to Big Dad's list. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXkNA9kjmfQcIex7Agu2Cxg5vHcMznWNJlW0Whou_XZBBnK-FwTPxuljoklBgR2oO_-7_OEEaA15ZKhIEWZrBi9qxKvVEBrKdkXc2N-JVrzzkt9pPsosJohmst6oeWb5-iBXr8pJhRjLRt/s1600/105-0599_IMG.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXkNA9kjmfQcIex7Agu2Cxg5vHcMznWNJlW0Whou_XZBBnK-FwTPxuljoklBgR2oO_-7_OEEaA15ZKhIEWZrBi9qxKvVEBrKdkXc2N-JVrzzkt9pPsosJohmst6oeWb5-iBXr8pJhRjLRt/s400/105-0599_IMG.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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And this one.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvZnLIwmxEIfXLIkt_7GjxDEMNzx2_kOXUCxyt9bdDsw-eAX-U40C4VcJCcjI1vZVov-E7uz6iFnBN6kPJVMXhl4GeXRm7Tos4iDjbklz2Su24yVeVu6OVPgILvuN-Fb2op6rjjywxdKrH/s1600/jerry+and+lib.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="282" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvZnLIwmxEIfXLIkt_7GjxDEMNzx2_kOXUCxyt9bdDsw-eAX-U40C4VcJCcjI1vZVov-E7uz6iFnBN6kPJVMXhl4GeXRm7Tos4iDjbklz2Su24yVeVu6OVPgILvuN-Fb2op6rjjywxdKrH/s400/jerry+and+lib.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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And a daughter-in-law and these three beautiful grandkids...</div>
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And this awesome son-in-law, who calls him...<em>Dad.</em><br />
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And God led this unlikely candidate into a relationship with lots of kids that really, really need a dad...<br />
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And soon, very soon, he will officially become Big Dad to three more. <br />
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But, these days of rebuilding have not been easy. To be a better father and husband, Jerry made a career change from the corporate world into an industry, real estate, that is in a depression. He has struggled and fought and held on to this second career because for him it is his ministry and calling. Over and over, God has used him to help people at their time of need, when they are making big decisions. Unsure single women, hopeful young couples, seniors who need to reorganize. But finances have been so, so challenging. <br />
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Many times, he has been tempted to quit. But I know, deep in my bones, that he is right where God wants him to be. And so despite the challenges of this seaon, Jerry STANDS. And if you know Jerry, you know that once he stands, he is not easily moved, physically or otherwise!<br />
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And so my dear, amazing husband...you STAND. You STAND on the promises of God for your life. You STAND on what you know to be true. You STAND even when others doubt you or say you are crazy. You STAND when setbacks come again and again. You STAND when the enemy tries to discourage you about provision. You STAND when the way looks impossible. You stand my hero, and I will be standing right there beside you.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-105586965946890253.post-57477839828015407632010-09-12T15:15:00.000-07:002010-09-12T19:02:09.634-07:00A Miracle Named GraceTwo of the biggest miracles in my life are named GRACE. <br />
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A year and a half ago, on a very hot North Carolina afternoon, I was on the highway bringing our massive dossier of documents to our adoption agency. If you know anything about international adoption, you know it is often called a "paperwork pregnancy."<br />
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As I drove, I prayed over the dossier. "God, show me the way to our children." Suddenly, the Holy Spirit FELL in my car. Time suspended, "Jesus took the wheel", and instead of the interstate before me, I was seeing a VIVID VISION. But, it was not of my children. Instead, God showed me a little African girl running in my friend's yard. She looked about 8 or 9. She was wearing an old fashioned pink dress, the kind that little girls wore a few decades ago. Laughing and playing, she was enjoying the home, hugging my friend, and being loved by my friend's elderly mother.<br />
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Now this may not sound that unusual, except that this friend of mine is single and has no children. She spends her time in an awesome career and caring for her mother. And in all the years we have known each other, we have NEVER discussed anything related to her and adoption. <br />
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This vision of the child in the pink dress was so vivid, every time I thought of it, I wept. My amazing friend and her sweet Mom and this beautiful little girl... <br />
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But, I said nothing.<br />
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Months later, as I was packing to leave for Uganda to meet our kids, I had all but forgotten that vision, and suddenly, it was back. Along with this: God said to me "Her name is Grace, as a reminder of my Grace for her mother's life." My friend has had a very hard life, and has overcome many terrible trials, but she has found her way to the Lord. God has poured out so much Grace on her life. Grace. "That is her name", He said.<br />
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Still, I said nothing to my friend.<br />
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I arrive at the orphanage in Uganda and am caught in a whirlwind of meeting my beautiful children. They live in a sea of blue. Their 600 friends each own one blue uniform issued by orphanage, and some "sleeping clothes." <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">One evening, I was talking with the director, Jalia, an amazing woman. Here she is issuing these very blue uniforms. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw6ApU1uGkSRnbvCfk0XgmYN8b8lGw773iZVA1uzj-8YOLGO7dbF54kuIN3eFCfH_jtCTFSNzwuLXE7Q45RAu5sLTJZQk9Y45jRgLJekqwl8S7kxw9761JvrJPv5guJ0LaL3wdcbJGibws/s1600/DSC_0383.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw6ApU1uGkSRnbvCfk0XgmYN8b8lGw773iZVA1uzj-8YOLGO7dbF54kuIN3eFCfH_jtCTFSNzwuLXE7Q45RAu5sLTJZQk9Y45jRgLJekqwl8S7kxw9761JvrJPv5guJ0LaL3wdcbJGibws/s400/DSC_0383.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And I suddenly felt compelled to ask her about a girl named Grace. "Jalia, please don't think I'm crazy" I begin. I tell the story quickly, leaving out the detail about the pink dress. "Jalia, is there possibly a child here named Grace?" Jalia smiles lovingly and says "Yes, there are two. I will bring them at bedtime."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Later that night, I am summoned to the kitchen to meet the girls named Grace. The first girl strides boldly thru the door in her blue uniform, shakes my hand, and says "Hello Ma'am, I am Grace." She looks like every other adorable African child. I think to myself "What am I doing...I must be out of my mind!" Suddenly, the other Grace creeps into the room. She is terrified and ashen to be forced to meet me. I take one look at her and my knees buckle and I fall to the ground. I am speechless and tears pour down my cheeks. SHE IS WEARING THE PINK DRESS. The SAME pink dress. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcYODs9Lyp0GTPUVDbqyt0RBoBCnqzgv6c3KfW47zqKL8JgNQZvZ3BSZJt57MD217M_S_PhgPDAb0vQpvxAiMw8BToxQ4iFTS5hL5Dw1kN_2uwRiXQU9v41Nwr_U8Ln-0fyBgySVbrqfo9/s1600/Grace.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcYODs9Lyp0GTPUVDbqyt0RBoBCnqzgv6c3KfW47zqKL8JgNQZvZ3BSZJt57MD217M_S_PhgPDAb0vQpvxAiMw8BToxQ4iFTS5hL5Dw1kN_2uwRiXQU9v41Nwr_U8Ln-0fyBgySVbrqfo9/s400/Grace.JPG" width="266" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">How in the world did this child get this dress? When I collect myself enough to tell Jalia why I am overcome, she looks at me in awe-struck wonder and says matter-of-factly, "It's a miracle."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Needless to say, when I returned home from Uganda, I had an important story to tell my friend. And here is what my blond, blue-eyed friend confessed to me with tears in her eyes: "All my life, I have had a vision of a daughter with brown eyes. I have never told anyone except my mother."</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The first time I heard a sermon preached on Grace I was 35 years old. I had lived 35 years and did not know anything about God's Grace. I didn't know I was forgiven. I didn't know I was loved. I didn't know there was nothing I could do to <em>earn</em> or <em>destroy</em> His love for me. That sermon changed my life...that day was my first miracle of Grace.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><em>But He said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. </em></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><em>2 Corinthians 12:9</em></div><br />
Next month I will return to Uganda, and I will see Grace in the pink dress. My friend has been praying about her, praying about whether she can adopt. And I pray too...that one day, Grace will be running in her yard-- home, happy and enjoying God's grace.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-105586965946890253.post-35349437744679334892010-09-09T06:30:00.000-07:002010-09-09T13:19:01.485-07:00My Secret GardenThe other day, someone asked me how many children I have, and I answered "seven". Seven beautiful people that are my children by marriage, birth and adoption. I had to have a private chuckle with God because only He and I know that the early years of my adult life were spent under the mantle of <b><i>infertility</i></b>. It's such a terrible word to put on a woman. Everything about our female nature is made to be lush, fertile, productive, life-giving. But my early years were BARREN.<br />
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I was in a barren marriage, spiritually, emotionally and physically. Doctors told me that due to a variety of circumstances both mine and my first husband's, I would never be a mother. But there is a funny little thing about me...one of my most annoying personality traits is my tenacity. And so in this instance, I wouldn't give up. I spent the next three years of my life doing mostly two things. Spending hours and hours and thousands of dollars in this place:<br />
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And growing my secret backyard garden.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I planted and watered and planted and watered, because my soul just had to find a way to GROW SOMETHING. I knew God had abandoned me. I was sure He did not love me, because every month I would sit in the public hospital clinic, waiting for my "procedure", surrounded by unhappy, unwed, unfunded miserably pregnant women.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As time went on, my hope faded. My body started to give out. I could not endure the endless assault of needles and invasion and <i>stirrups </i>(shudder).<i> </i>And then, at the very end of my strength, the very month I knew I would quit, the most extraordinary thing happened.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYsYvZGcylur-8mHzjiZfWuMhMm6VA_mKD8WzfXcWn8KrZ0e4KRsDQmBUfgHsOSnoBdf-uMtM3qAtn2BtMoSKBCWcSnN5QPt4uo6gDSc2FvXgGIvJgQtyg4uBGZKpypLBm4nMQP1OS5TtJ/s1600/IMG%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYsYvZGcylur-8mHzjiZfWuMhMm6VA_mKD8WzfXcWn8KrZ0e4KRsDQmBUfgHsOSnoBdf-uMtM3qAtn2BtMoSKBCWcSnN5QPt4uo6gDSc2FvXgGIvJgQtyg4uBGZKpypLBm4nMQP1OS5TtJ/s400/IMG%5B1%5D.jpg" width="263" /></a></div>NOT BARREN. <br />
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At the time, I thought this was God's reward for ME. I knew it was a miracle, but I thought is was just my miracle. I did not know it was a miracle of a much bigger kind. <br />
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What I now know, 18 years later, is that God was waiting for the perfect time. For the perfect set of genetic circumstances to bring forth the exact, specific person that He intended. Because it turns out, that person is and always has been HIS. Completely. From the time she was a tiny girl, she has loved the Lord and wanted to serve Him. <br />
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She has more faith, vision, compassion and mercy than most people on this planet. Already God has taken her to places I could not have imagined, to do things for Him I could have never seen. And now as her life unfolds before me, I have no doubt that He will use her to change history. <br />
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And so I try to remember those years now, because if they taught me one thing, it is that GOD ALWAYS HAS A PLAN. Yes, I know it is a cliche. And when you are in the barren desert, it's the <u>last</u> thing you want to hear. But it is true. No matter how bad things seem, GOD ALWAYS HAS A PLAN. Without that season of barrenness, I would not now have my amazing, Godly husband Jerry, and those seven incredible people I am blessed to call my children.<br />
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I am reminded of the words of a great leader. "Never, ever, ever, ever give up". So, I won't give up Lord. I won't quit serving you. I won't quit trying. I won't be defeated. I will keep marching forward, no matter what obstacles come my way. Because my ways are not Your ways, and my plans are not Your plans.<br />
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<i>"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future". Jeremiah 29:11 </i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-105586965946890253.post-9884919144708126742010-09-06T21:33:00.000-07:002010-09-06T22:04:58.823-07:00The Book of Ruth<em>Boaz replied, "I've been told all about what you have done...how you left your homeland and came to live with a people you did not know before. May the Lord repay you for what you have done. May you be richly rewarded by the Lord, the God of Israel, under whose wings you have come to take refuge." </em><br />
<em>Ruth 2:11-12</em><br />
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It has been hard to stop thinking about what Agnes said of her sister, my daughter, Ruth. "Ruth has a sad heart." <br />
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Ruth is a deep well. Unlike Agnes and Nathan, she is a mystery that will need to be unfolded. Her sister and brother opened themselves to me like eager daisies on a sunny morning. But Ruth was reserved, shy and afraid. <br />
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Here are the only things I know to be true about Ruth:<br />
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She was born 12 and a half years ago.<br />
When she was 5, she was run over, leaving her with a damaged foot.<br />
When she was 7, her father died.<br />
When she was 9, she was brought to the orphanage and left by her mother.<br />
She is passionate in her prayer for others.<br />
She is always cold.<br />
She has never tasted chocolate.<br />
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When I met Ruth for the first time, she walked to me from the back of her classroom with her head held low. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-c0NUdXE8n6k7EWDvZfWAtYN8p4Pn-FZ_wV1O7KJBOLIvg_bgyuQyv1ADH2yAycqo0hwQsQoeDT_hwhR8nJg4nzgrvoV19mlacTVdOi4VTet2KgrOhyhiWz_2CbZX1qE3QdbVfTV0R081/s1600/Ruth+Classroom.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="255" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-c0NUdXE8n6k7EWDvZfWAtYN8p4Pn-FZ_wV1O7KJBOLIvg_bgyuQyv1ADH2yAycqo0hwQsQoeDT_hwhR8nJg4nzgrvoV19mlacTVdOi4VTet2KgrOhyhiWz_2CbZX1qE3QdbVfTV0R081/s400/Ruth+Classroom.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I noticed her limp, and could tell that to her it was a great embarrassment. She looked like she was thinking "This woman will never want me once she sees me." Then, with some encouragement from the orphanage director, she raised her head to look at me. And I saw this:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibvneboKHpQyg5RDb0KTjEx8rCx6Su_yXrh6s22G5zXkoRmK9vz8x8fCKufIo1q7eXs1Pgee8oS2sGBnI0c7J2pSLoCHUQqOzOxx_TvsohlFu9g9i1tfzMU_ZV9s2HlWlCuHoVxlTLQ1zS/s1600/Ruth.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibvneboKHpQyg5RDb0KTjEx8rCx6Su_yXrh6s22G5zXkoRmK9vz8x8fCKufIo1q7eXs1Pgee8oS2sGBnI0c7J2pSLoCHUQqOzOxx_TvsohlFu9g9i1tfzMU_ZV9s2HlWlCuHoVxlTLQ1zS/s320/Ruth.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>An angel.<br />
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But, this smile does not last long. And there is a sadness beneath it. Even when she clowns, which is frequently.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsHyGGKRYpy727wTvs3R1iv-_f_ugGXqERfDxprhF6M60ID7hLh52XoGKTE3jFjS0GzRrDj0A9Ddv1f5XIjravTgO5q279HsuNoo45YMYSZIBXwxUZ3gwJOTLWO-9t6rypONxuyaWSLANG/s1600/DSC_0443.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsHyGGKRYpy727wTvs3R1iv-_f_ugGXqERfDxprhF6M60ID7hLh52XoGKTE3jFjS0GzRrDj0A9Ddv1f5XIjravTgO5q279HsuNoo45YMYSZIBXwxUZ3gwJOTLWO-9t6rypONxuyaWSLANG/s320/DSC_0443.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Will I ever know all the things that have happended to this child in her short, precious life? Is there one in particular that makes her so sad, or is it the sum total of all the loss and poverty and bad turns you can squeeze into 12 years?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitFyd4UTEit9glGT7MR6_cEwJAQGDaV2EYyza3bD4AYbQT7ovkxu2PZnTiOXqRIJe527kImmev-Tlcxt21HaW_PAxIsAaWcd9IemA7V64ojoosflRyJ8KU9K567f8opqhUTah7Sp9JytKx/s1600/Ruth's+bed.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitFyd4UTEit9glGT7MR6_cEwJAQGDaV2EYyza3bD4AYbQT7ovkxu2PZnTiOXqRIJe527kImmev-Tlcxt21HaW_PAxIsAaWcd9IemA7V64ojoosflRyJ8KU9K567f8opqhUTah7Sp9JytKx/s400/Ruth's+bed.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
How will I ever help her to stop being sad? Can I? Should I? I asked the orphanage director, Jalia, how I could help Ruth. Her response was "When her environment changes, I believe she will gain." Indeed.<br />
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So, all I can do is love her. A lot. I am sharing all of this about my Ruth not to violate her privacy in any way, but to ask those of you who are reading this to pray for her. Pray that the combined love of all our prayers creates a healing balm for her "sad heart". Pray that one day all her tears will be gone, and she will know love and safety and joy.<br />
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<em>"But Ruth replied, "Don't urge me to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God will be my God." Ruth 1:16</em><br />
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You will always be ours, precious Ruth. We will never leave you.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-105586965946890253.post-21747627587345009562010-09-03T06:29:00.000-07:002010-09-04T11:42:53.389-07:00My Three Agneses<div style="text-align: left;">Mother Teresa was born Agnes Bojaxhiu in 1910. All my life, she has been the person I have most admired. I have read many books and seen many movies about her. And no matter how much I learn, I never cease to be amazed.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTKb-VQ4IeYw44WjQ5CkeNlQMEM4TmS05VTkFXt0ykrLtVxv0Vmp0HuySFVpVtF29cBm7EP5PbZ_UwDAYH45HFCqKMy0XtbD3lL4cy7RB2VJquDYNeMz3_zr8V6QSXYYI50bFewki22C9M/s1600/Diana04s.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTKb-VQ4IeYw44WjQ5CkeNlQMEM4TmS05VTkFXt0ykrLtVxv0Vmp0HuySFVpVtF29cBm7EP5PbZ_UwDAYH45HFCqKMy0XtbD3lL4cy7RB2VJquDYNeMz3_zr8V6QSXYYI50bFewki22C9M/s320/Diana04s.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><br />
At the age of 18 she left her tiny village and traveled to Ireland to become a nun, never to see her family again. She arrived in Calcutta in 1929 at the ripe old age of 19, to become the most famous missionary ever known. And she did all that on one simple premise: love. She loved the people that nobody wanted, the dying, the orphan, the beggar. When AIDS emerged, her order was the first anywhere to open a home for persons with AIDS.<br />
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Perhaps what is most extraordinary is that she ultimately became the CEO of a worldwide corporation. At the time of her death, she ran 600 homes in 136 countries...<i>with no debt.</i> And despite her celebrity of later years, she refused even the most modest of materialism. I heard once that her entire estate consisted of two of the white habits she always wore, and a small cross. She did not even own a Bible. The Catholic Church, in an effort to collect "relics" to venerate her impending canonization, has been reduced to preserving the tin bowl from which she ate her breakfast. I have looked at hundreds pictures of her face, and they are all quite beautiful.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqyPf-4oPbicuq5sItw1M0cz-BqsYK0t6udbtDrUrXzOzGvaw0SS-9YuedR6SOSrYMCYwCVDGUqYRSSC7UlrWYYuWbF1AX72HDJkXQiari8JD9C0shJTDMYGgZJrAsFEucoJBgv-fSZgo4/s1600/1099734164038497902S600x600Q85.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqyPf-4oPbicuq5sItw1M0cz-BqsYK0t6udbtDrUrXzOzGvaw0SS-9YuedR6SOSrYMCYwCVDGUqYRSSC7UlrWYYuWbF1AX72HDJkXQiari8JD9C0shJTDMYGgZJrAsFEucoJBgv-fSZgo4/s400/1099734164038497902S600x600Q85.jpg" width="268" /></a></div><br />
A few years back, God blessed me with another Agnes. By a series of circumstances that could only be the Lord, I was hired by the most influential public relations agency in my state. Totally unqualified. But God gave me a boss, a Godly boss, a loving boss that protected me and mentored me and sheltered me from the worst of the "machine" that ate people up in that place. This Agnes was more of a Margaret Thatcher than a Mother Teresa. She didn't swear, she didn't cave, and she carried her dignity like a banner. Margaret Thatcher once said, "If you have to tell people to treat you like a lady, than you are not one". This Agnes is always a lady. And, she is also beautiful to me.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9_4ofEIorF8ZBvuCryeJTrbVL2NDkC71OCwvsFrl4P7GOTt0WBIcaGBZo7dMQRzplOLuomzhyphenhyphenihvyjgo3jLD9fQz9QvUcFYh4kMbmnKUbMvODARsT6YWWvkeghnTM00dUsdOiMYqqjZDw/s1600/Agnes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9_4ofEIorF8ZBvuCryeJTrbVL2NDkC71OCwvsFrl4P7GOTt0WBIcaGBZo7dMQRzplOLuomzhyphenhyphenihvyjgo3jLD9fQz9QvUcFYh4kMbmnKUbMvODARsT6YWWvkeghnTM00dUsdOiMYqqjZDw/s320/Agnes.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Loving these two Agneses, it was surely no surprise to learn that God had picked me a daughter named Agnes. I felt called to learn the origin of this name...and stunned to find that it describes each Agnes perfectly.<br />
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<i>The girl's name <b>Agnes is </b>derived from Greek </i><i><a class="trn" href="http://www.behindthename.com/support/transcribe.php?type=GR&target=%27agnos">‘αγνος</a> (hagnos)</i><i> meaning "<a href="http://www.thinkbabynames.com/search/0/pure">pure</a>, <a href="http://www.thinkbabynames.com/search/0/holy">holy</a>".</i><br />
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Despite the severity of her circumstances, my daughter Agnes has a sweetness that is pure as new snow. Yesterday, I received this note from the woman I have never met who has opened her home to my Agnes, as she has "aged out" of the orphanage.<br />
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<i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Yesterday evening Agnes and I had a good long talk about how she's doing and feeling. She's missing her grandmother and says she knows she will die soon. She told me about her sister Ruth and how she has a sad heart and how much Ruth adores your daughter, and she told me all about Nathan and how playful he is. She is an incredibly observant and compassionate young lady.</span></span></i><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUeVIuBK9UuDThFMMg9vqqHF2noS-H6gTZOA7nxUSkrx8eM-6Vm80GmfoIo1qvMCgtUhEXi-Ydt0KrWthg7xpBXvcbhmDrFaH7aixxXBCbQcu643dUYLPn-MreKTUpreX9TwAxAVPsSnAD/s1600/DSC_0379.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="325" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUeVIuBK9UuDThFMMg9vqqHF2noS-H6gTZOA7nxUSkrx8eM-6Vm80GmfoIo1qvMCgtUhEXi-Ydt0KrWthg7xpBXvcbhmDrFaH7aixxXBCbQcu643dUYLPn-MreKTUpreX9TwAxAVPsSnAD/s400/DSC_0379.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"></span></span></i><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The first day I met this third Agnes, we slept side by side in little cots. With all I had heard about "bonding" issues with adopted children, I wondered if this 13-year-old head-of-household would have any regard for me. As we lay in the dark, she took my hands, and looked deep into my eyes, and asked "What is your dream?" </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>"I was traveling by train to Darjeeling when I heard the voice of God. I was sure it was God's voice. I was certain it was a message for me. The message was clear. I must leave the convent to help the poor by living among them. This was a command, something to be done, something definite. The call was something between God and me. What matters is that God calls each of us in a different way. In those difficult, dramatic days I was certain that this was God's doing and not mine and I am still certain. And it was the work of God. I knew that the world would benefit from it." --Mother Teresa</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-105586965946890253.post-85862433449506285172010-08-31T05:46:00.000-07:002010-08-31T06:44:53.666-07:00My Bad Mood<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I have been in a bad for mood for...well...the last year. If you think that is an exaggeration, just ask my husband. Joyce Meyer often mentions how much she appreciates the early years of her marriage when her husband kept them together through his patience and faithfulness. I know how she feels. <br />
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In April of 2009, Jerry and I made the decision to adopt three precious kids from Uganda. In July of 2009, I went to Uganda to meet them, and to finalize the paperwork for their adoption. My lawyer told me to plan to return in September for a court date to bring them home. And so, I told my precious, awesome kids, that their Mom and Dad would be coming back in September for them. That was September of 2009.<br />
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Then, the world showed up.<br />
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The Fall disappeared somehow due to administrative problems. Next thing I knew, it was November and the Ugandan courts ground to a halt for the holidays.<br />
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January 1st, 2010, I jumped from the bed knowing I would soon be going to Uganda to get my children.<br />
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January 16th, an earthquake rocked Haiti and something told me that I was meant to go there to organize an orphan rescue effort. I cried and bargained with God. I did not want to go. I made a deal with Him..."If I go do this for the children of Haiti, will you bring my kids home?". <br />
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When I returned from Haiti in mid-February, the process for Ugandan adoptions had essentially been shut down. Once again, God had a project for me. Could I help fix this situation? I could and did...with the help of some very influential friends. I spent the next six months getting 18 families home from Uganda. God said: "You can go when all these are home."<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXErD7SCiGinnrWY2T47yrOeBUExdiTa5jn1ZsFvewGAxRFvf4CB5vwD-uPMJbVlNqEJjle7XX9vVsogwsHWmwPfBIf3VOFf11SUzsTOapGL1LIn2exeTgsLK2E1MlMzqvwuIqLkfKlnEL/s1600/Happy+Family.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXErD7SCiGinnrWY2T47yrOeBUExdiTa5jn1ZsFvewGAxRFvf4CB5vwD-uPMJbVlNqEJjle7XX9vVsogwsHWmwPfBIf3VOFf11SUzsTOapGL1LIn2exeTgsLK2E1MlMzqvwuIqLkfKlnEL/s400/Happy+Family.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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One mother still remains, stuck over there with her two Ugandan daughters. She has been there since April. That is when my first court date was supposed to be...April 16, 2010. But it never happened and here we are: STILL WAITING.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYYG82p6V0HfRhjPOouNG6yyUCdgieO68JoSx6RAlIRQaY7yrnFbt5s6aIkRJsXhFUqV75pywE0EBiDXdm5Lze2XLHFhmUhG35vVdCl8RKIznI2hgEl3GQ6t5Rd2blFbr0OS7IK9b64R8N/s1600/DSC_0053.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYYG82p6V0HfRhjPOouNG6yyUCdgieO68JoSx6RAlIRQaY7yrnFbt5s6aIkRJsXhFUqV75pywE0EBiDXdm5Lze2XLHFhmUhG35vVdCl8RKIznI2hgEl3GQ6t5Rd2blFbr0OS7IK9b64R8N/s400/DSC_0053.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Waiting puts me in a bad mood. I hate to wait. I am impatient. I want everything NOW. I am busy and important and I don't have time to WAIT.<br />
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I think about all the people who wait. People in prison. Children in orphanages. People with cancer. All the people who wait with GRACE and DIGNITY and PURPOSE. I am ashamed to say I have not been one of those people. Waiting for my children has made me nothing but CRANKY. After a while, the crankiness turned to ANGER. Why God must I wait? Why must my children wait?<br />
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This year has been hard on my children. Their circumstances have deteriorated. Their grandmother, once their support and caretaker, is approaching death and has been unable to help them. She also waits. For the Lord to take her home.<br />
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And they wait. For her to die. For me to come. For the orphanage where they live to get more water, or more pencils or some toys.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuG_-qL7bpfUQdFqQ-JXFINVgmFfvvYMmKa301p-4h9pJSd-Sv6u89dEM3KFdGkmEYjdgTn48iGue5fiVIz78_QLk4ivLQt2rHSfAMTtTIJdhtn0gfwcJshfR9Noc3bSuqzPH1QQ0IXKTf/s1600/DSC_0391.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuG_-qL7bpfUQdFqQ-JXFINVgmFfvvYMmKa301p-4h9pJSd-Sv6u89dEM3KFdGkmEYjdgTn48iGue5fiVIz78_QLk4ivLQt2rHSfAMTtTIJdhtn0gfwcJshfR9Noc3bSuqzPH1QQ0IXKTf/s400/DSC_0391.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
And the 600 kids with whom they live at this orphanage...they wait too. For someone to come for them. For parents. For hope.<br />
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Dear Jesus. My prayer today is for all of those who wait. Forgive me for my selfishness. Comfort and encourage those who wait...those for whom victory will not come in this lifetime. For all the children everywhere who WAIT.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-105586965946890253.post-16871143497271388152010-08-24T07:30:00.000-07:002013-07-04T07:38:08.551-07:00My Broken HeartMost of us get our heart broken at one time or another by love or sin or some combination of both. And, with God's grace, most of us get over those seasons and God heals our heart.<br />
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My broken heart is a little different. Some of you know what I am talking about. I have the kind of broken heart meant to never get healed.<br />
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In 2008, my husband and I took my precious sister on a trip to Uganda. She was turning 40 and this was her big adventure and ours. We went to visit many friends we had made the year before through our work with the African Children's Choir and their U.S. home, Mirembe House (more about that later).<br />
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And, of course, while on this trip we went on the obligatory safari. Just Uganda itself is a safari of the most amazing kind, but we took in the usual tourist package to a game park and saw many of God's awesome creatures. <br />
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The last day of this trek, we were stopped by the side of the road to view some wild chimps living in the trees. Anywhere one stops in Uganda in a motor vehicle, children will surely find you. Remember, this is a country where 50% of the residents are children. <u>A country the size of Oregon that has 10% of all the orphans IN THE WORLD</u>.<br />
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So, naturally, when we returned to our parked car from the forest trail, a small group of children were waiting to see us.<br />
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By this point in the trip, I had learned a few things about the children in this place. Children who are in school, which means they have food and care, look like this.<br />
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Even though their uniforms might be tattered, someone is caring for those children. Even if it is an orphanage. They are enrolled in school. They are getting at least one meal per day.<br />
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But children by the side of the road, without shoes, with dirty ill-fitting clothes, most likely are totally on their own. These type of children may not have eaten in days. They sleep in makeshift shelters and try to survive.<br />
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I think the expression on the boys' faces tells the story. So here we were, rich Americans in our safari car with our expensive cameras, paying hundreds of dollars to spot a wild chimp. And here they were.<br />
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It was too hard to just drive away, so we tried to entertain them for even a moment. These kids didn't speak English, but if you've never seen a photo of yourself, it's pretty amazing the first time.<br />
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I was desperate to give them something, but it was the end of the day and we had no food left in our truck. We were heading back into town to have a nice, big post-safari dinner at our fine hotel. So I dug around in my legendarily enormous travel sachel hoping to find something, anything. All I had was <em>one sorry mint</em>. You know this mint...it's the one at the bottom of your purse, with some foil on it, that has been down there for ages gathering lint.</div>
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With one mint and four children, I did all I knew to do. I gave it to the smallest one, the little girl. AND THAT IS WHEN IT HAPPENED. The moment that changed my life forever. <em>She bowed</em>.</div>
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In the Ugandan culture, children are taught to show adults the utmost respect. One of the ways they show that honor and respect is to kneel, with the head bowed, when receiving a gift -- as a gesture of appreciation. This tiny girl, not more than four of five, had the manners of a royal princess. She was dirty, hungry and tattered, and her parents were likely gone. There had been little in life that they could give her, but they had given her the gift of manners. And so, when presented with a piece of candy from a stranger, she bowed.</div>
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I felt my heart shatter. All the iniquities, all the unfairness, all the disparity of her life and mine were crystalized in that moment. She got on her knees in the dusty road in exchange for a stale mint, as if I had given her a great prize. </div>
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We got in the car and drove away. We went to our hotel and had that feast. But my heart, my whole being, was changed forever by that moment. </div>
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Kay Warren, wife of Pastor Rick Warren, is often quoted as saying her experiences in Rwanda left her "seriously disturbed" for the orphan. So, although I have not yet met Kay, I know she and I are in a unique club of people. Those that God has given broken hearts for the orphan. I know many of you reading this have your own moment, the one you can't take back, the one that permanently broke <u>your</u> heart. I pray God's peace and conviction over you. He broke our hearts for His purposes, just as Christ was broken for us. Let us walk together with our permanently broken hearts and receive His plans. </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>The Lord is near to the brokenhearted, and saves the crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:18</i></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-105586965946890253.post-44888726706820829152010-08-21T09:01:00.000-07:002010-08-21T13:44:10.780-07:00The Greatest GiftOlivia is sick today. It's been a long time since she has been sick, and it reminds me of all we have been through together. In the middle of last night, when I was hooking her up to her breathing apparatus ("nebulizer"), I said "Olivia, do you realize how long it's been since we've had to do this? Do you remember how many times we used to do this?" To which she said "A jillion".<br />
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If you've never had someone put a newborn baby in your arms and said "here, have my child", there is no way you can understand what that feels like. Every other gift I have ever received in my life all put together can't come close to that moment. Even if that baby is very tiny, here too soon, and going to be really sick for the next two years of your life. And often sick for the next ten years of your life. But rarely sick now thanks to the healing power of our mighty God and an army of doctors and specialists.<br />
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The first time I saw Olivia, I was scrubbed, gowned, sanitized and walking into a dimly lit room containing six tiny creatures in little plastic boxes clinging to life. She was due on October 31st but came September 12th without lungs that were ready for air, among other problems. I had driven all night because the woman who birthed her had said at midnight "Come now...she is your baby, not mine." A tiny, red alien with tubes and tape and beeping machines. I thought she was the most beautiful baby I had ever seen. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Kiel Tweitmeyer, father of 13 kids (with only three from his seed) recently said "I thought adoption was a gift you give someone else, but I have learned it's a gift you give yourself." </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Back then when Olivia came home, people often said things to me like "You are such a good person to be doing this". ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I am not much of a "good person" on my best days, and I was even less of one back then. "SOMEBODY GAVE ME A WHOLE, GORGEOUS HUMAN BEING!!!" is what I wanted to respond. "What have you been given lately?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I feel sorry for people who don't get to experience the gift of adoption. It trumps every other joy in life...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Right now, a tiny boy thousands of miles away waits for me. I really can't believe he still waits...it feels like more of a gift than I could ever be worth. Jalia, the orphanage director, told me yesterday "Nathan still asks every day when you are coming...I tell him to pray". How can a small boy from another world still wait for me after 417 days? 417 days of believing that some white lady he met only once will come back to be his Mommy. How much can a child yearn for a parent when you are just one in a sea of 600 children at the top of a mountain with not enough arms to hug you at night? How can he know that I will come back enough to still believe? What does he say to God and how much must God love him for his faithfulness? What could ever be bigger than that love?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The last time I saw this boy, there were tears making tracks in the dust on his face. As my taxi pulled away, he sat at the top of the road that carried me gone down the mountain. He did not run after the car or wave. He just sat silently with tears dropping off his chin. His last words to me in his new English were "Mum, I want to come with you."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-105586965946890253.post-9168768105183587012010-08-19T10:19:00.001-07:002010-08-19T17:06:21.710-07:00Today is the DayFor months now, actually years, my friends have been encouraging me to write down my stories of what God is doing through me. The last five years have been quite a journey on God's chariot, and today I finally felt the Holy Spirit direct me that it was TIME to speak.<br /><br />It all began in my closet. Well, really, it started long, long before that...but, let's start in the closet.<br /><br />Two and a half years ago, I was alone at home putting away laundry. A couple months earlier, I had quit my executive job...for the second time. For 20 years I had worked in senior positions, making good incomes, earning bonuses, meeting with important clients, making myself into "somebody". But, along the way on that journey, God broke my heart for the orphan. Permanently. And as a result, I will never be the same. I am not the same woman Jerry married, I am not the same mother that Mackenzie and Olivia once had, I am not the same friend many of you once knew. I have a permanently broken heart. And, with that new heart, I couldn't seem to do my job, any job, that did not involve rescuing the orphan. So, there I was, at home, trying to figure out what to do with the rest of my life. <br /><br />This brings us back to the closet.<br /><br />After a couple of months of me at home doing NO housework, my dear husband casually mentioned one day "Honey, now that you are a housewife, do you think you might do some housework? I could really use some clean clothes." God bless him, he is a saint. But, that is a whole other blog.<br /><br />I set out in earnest the next morning to be a <span style="font-style: italic;">housewife</span>. About four loads into six loads of laundry, I was standing in the closet putting up my husband's shirts, but I was thinking to myself: "How can I get Ray Barnett, founder of the African Children's Choir (whom I knew), together with Tom Davis, CEO of Children's HopeChest (whom I had just met), because <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">somebody needs to figure out how to rescue ALL the orphans</span>". And that is when it happened...God said, loudly and clearly, "IT'S YOU".<br /><br />It embarrasses me even to write that down, but God says I should tell my story, so I am telling it just like I know it. "IT'S YOU", He said. I fell down on the bedroom floor. I could not breath. I don't know what it means to be "slain in the Spirit", but if it means that you are so overcome by the call of God that you can't move and you just lie there with tears pouring into your ears for a time that seems like forever, then I was slain. "No way God, don't put that on me. That can't be right. You are mistaken. I don't know what I am doing. I have no expertise, I am not trained. I have no experience. There are EXPERTS...I am NOT one. It can't be me...it's too big, it's too overwhelming, I don't want it...NOT ME!!!!." But there I was, stuck on the bedroom floor, and I knew it was meant for me.<br /><br />For the next few days I had a fight with God in my mind. I didn't tell anyone, not even Jerry. Anyone would think I am insane. "God, I don't know how to do it" I pleaded with Him over and over. And every time, the same answer: "You already know everything you need to know". What the heck!!! I had no idea what He was talking about. Every time I asked, the same "You already know everything you need to know". This went on for days. Then, I was on the elliptical at the gym one morning, and I was thinking about a massive food shipment for orphans that was being sent by a prominent, expert organization working in Ethiopia, and I knew from a past, unrelated job of mine that it wasn't being sent the best possible way. I thought about my friend Sharron from that season, a logistics expert, and how she would know the correct way to solve that problem. And God said "See, I told you, you already know everything and everybody that you need to know". BAM. There it was. I got off the machine and stumbled into the locker room. I sat there just taking it all in...<br /><br />All my life, every season, every relationship, every career move, held some gem, some lesson that had prepared me to rescue orphans. I could suddenly see, with <span style="font-style: italic;">crystal clarity</span>, how the seemingly serendipitous path of my life and career had actually been God's <span style="font-style: italic;">carefully</span> crafted curriculum to prepare me to one day rescue orphans around the world in lands I have never seen.<br /><br />I already knew everything I needed to know. I just had to have the courage and the will to start. God would show me the rest when I needed it.<br /><br />And that is when my journey really began.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6