Baggage

 

You never know by looking at a person what kind of pain they may be carrying. Yesterday morning I was able to present our band's original song "Little Girl Lost" at a church in my community. I shared briefly about how it was written out of some of my experiences with foster children. I expected that it would move people to tears. I expected that it would stir up compassion for our nation's children. I expected that it would motivate people to make a difference. I did not expect......
  An elderly gentleman approached me after the service and said he wanted to speak with me. "You said you have been a foster parent around here for years, right?" I confirmed that it was true. He then named 2 children and asked me if I had heard of them. I replied that I knew of them. The next moments broke my heart..... As tears welled up in his eyes, he said, "They are my grandchildren." His tears slipped out and his voice cracked as he asked, "Do you know where they are?"
  I told him that I was pretty sure that his granddaughter had been adopted, but I was unsure of where his grandson was. He continued his story. He was in jail when they were placed in foster care and there was nothing he could do to help their situation. However, he went on to say that he had no other family and that he was trying to find out how to leave some property to them in his will.
  I cannot divulge information about locations of kids who have been in foster care, but I was able to tell him that his grandchildren had actually lived with us for about a month. He smiled as I told him some of the things I remembered about them. And then I remembered that not long after they left my home, their step siblings died in a house fire as a result of arson. He said, "They were also my grandchildren."
  So there I was....standing in front of this man who identified with "Little Girl Lost". A man who had lost all of his grandchildren between a house fire and foster care.  A man whose broken heart was leaking out of his eyes and streaming down his cheeks. A man who wants to do one good thing for his grandchildren before he dies......
   I didn't sleep well last night. I kept thinking and dreaming about this man. I have a call in to one of my connections. I hope that I can get him pointed in the right direction so that he is able to bless his grandchildren with this gift.

To link to the song and the unofficial video go to:
http://www.longingforeden.com/Band/Music.html

I Am Malala

This is me at the end of my first day of school.  My parents, both teachers had decided to wait until I was in school to teach me how to read so that there would be no confusion caused by differences in curriculum and approach.  This made school of paramount importance.  My fifth birthday was a little angry when I demanded to go to school and discovered it wasn't in session yet.  They could have explained that before.

My first day of school was amazing and exhausting.  I could barely summon the energy to empty my satchel, let alone do something civilized with all that work.  I was in heaven.  Thanks to Miss Briggs, the Miss Piggle-Wiggle of kindergarten teachers, I stayed there all year.  Five is still my lucky number.

I love Malala.  If you've been living in a haze recently, she is the young woman from Swat, Pakistan who was shot for insisting on getting an education.  She is still insisting on getting her education, but now her speeches are given at the UN instead of during recess.  Suffering has such an amplifying effect on good it is a wonder that evil resorts to it at all.

I love Malala for many reasons, but I think my favorite is how much she loves her home, her culture and her faith.  She has her ticket out, but what she talks about the most is going home.  I'm praying with her for that, and that it will be a homecoming of great joy following great change.  I am praying that along with all those other girls from Swat that she will be safe.  Will you pray with me?

Roads

     I once met a tough older gent.  It was amusing because I was eight months pregnant with Joey, my oldest, and in a water aerobics class for the pregnant and elderly.  I was loving seeing the women and listening to them talk of their lives and give me outrageously good and eye poppingly bad parenting advice.  In the middle of them all was a man in his sixties wearing his leather vest in the pool and hitting on the younger ones.  I liked his style.

     I watched as he swam up to a particularly lovely lady and started to talk to her.  I understand why she was rude, but she was rude in a very hurtful way.  She said, "Where did you get those profoundly ugly and obviously Oriental tattoos.  They're hideous and I'd never give you the time of day."

     I shriveled inside because I knew where he had gotten those tattoos.  He was a Vietnam War vet.  It was plain he had gotten them in Cambodia on leave.  I was stunned at what was either her cruelty or ignorance.  I immediately swam over to him.  "I heard what she said, I'm sorry.  Thank you for serving our country."

     He was moved.  He opened up to me and said, "You're very perceptive for one who is so young.  I will tell you Nam was the hardest, nastiest, thing I've ever done and been a part of.  When I returned from the war and came home here to Indianapolis I knew I was absolutely changed.  I felt the need to run.  I bought a motorbike and disappeared to my family for years.  I rode to the west coast, the east coast and followed the summer.  I stayed in the warm trying to find, escape from, fix the mess in my heart.  When I had covered the country that last time, I finally understood **** (he leaned in close to my face and in a quiet voice said,)****there aren't enough roads."

     As the words hit me I started to cry.  He said, "No it's a good thing.  See the hurt was so bad, I could never run away from it.  Nothing I could find was going to fix it.  I needed to settle down in Indianapolis, my home, and face it with the friends and family that loved me and were worried sick about me.  I raise flowers and berries.  I try to find beauty to make sense of the ugliness of this life and the painful memories."

    This summer, I suffered a hurt.  His words kept me from trying to fix it with passing fancies that would never satisfy.  In a woman's world it would be said, "There isn't enough money, collectibles, clothes, food, candy or alcohol to fix this hurt."  So, I'm sitting here at home with the ones who love me and facing it together.

This too, is a child of God

Through the gift of each of our children God has taught us something of value.  He has given us a theme, a thought or a promise with each one of our eight wonderful children.  This week marks two years since He chose to take  a child home before we were to even meet them.  It was our second child we lost.  Yet, God still taught us so much through that life.  He taught us that He is good, through every dark moment.
He knows every intimate hope and fear
He hears every cry and plead
He knows every heartbeat
He hears every break of silence
God is so good, even in the midst of chaos and heartache
God is good....all the time
Through the loss of a child God has reminded me of the gift of life, and when it actually begins.  Sometimes we are fooled into thinking that a miscarriage is less painful because we have not met that baby.  But, this too is a child of God.  From the moment of conception, that sweet babe has a name.  The pain of such loss is deep.  It is perfectly acceptable to grieve the loss of this dearly loved one.
God has also reminded me that He is the one whom we should seek for peace.  Peace that overwhelms you when the world tells you to seek it, to seek it's standard and it's quota.  We were blessed to have one more child after our loss.  Her name is Anderson.  I cannot help but think, what if we had listened to the world? What a blessing we would have missed.  For she too, is a child of God.

The remote

There have been times I've wished for a remote control for my life. In a time of waiting,  I've longed for a fast forward button that would get me to the place when I find out how things are going to turn out because I do not like being in suspense. Other times I have longed for a pause button because I wanted things to stay just as they were for a little longer. I have often felt this way regarding my three children. Babies grow up way too fast. My youngest weighed three pounds at birth because he came nine weeks early. He loved to snuggle on my chest, and he preferred to have his head under my chin. Because he was so small, his entire head would fit under my chin. Although I knew it was very important that he keep growing, a part of me wanted to enjoy a little extra time snuggling that tiny bundle of joy under my chin.

Prior to becoming a mom, I had a romanticized view of pregnancy and motherhood. I had no idea what it would be like to have intense heartburn for months during pregnancy or to go months without sleeping more than 2 hours in a row. Although these circumstances were uncomfortable, I am grateful for them because they caused me to look forward to the next stage. Even though there were moments where I wanted time to stand still so I could savor the joys of a newborn a bit longer, I also knew that a little more sleep would be a really wonderful thing. The past few weeks it has been a challenge for me to adjust to the notion that I won't be having any more children. I've found it harder to watch my baby maturing now that I know there won't be another baby. He turned 15 months old today and has recently entered my least favorite phase of toddlerhood. One of my friends calls it the "tornado tot" stage. Many times a day he empties my Tupperware cabinet in the kitchen, the sock drawers in three of our bedrooms, the books of a few of the bookshelves, etc. It's exhausting cleaning up after him all day long. This week I have been thanking the Lord for this unpleasantness because it's making me have a better attitude toward seeing him move on to the next phase of development. It takes away my desire to hit that imaginary pause button. Scripture tells us that we are to live in the moment. We miss out on a lot of joy and peace when we try to live in the past or worry about the future. His grace is sufficient for the present.

A New Name

Last week I was a participant in a rather unusual task.  A friend's wife is currently in South Africa ministering to a small group of women, and in that group is a woman, an albino....her parents named her "No Matter".  This dear lady has only known rejection.  She asked to be renamed.  Yes, given a new name.  My friend's wife had been tasked with this.  Naming an adult with a new name that reflects God's love and destiny.  My friend shared this with those of us who are on FaceBook, and asked those of us who were so led to quiet ourselves before the Lord and ask Him what an appropriate name would be for her, then to respond.  As I read that post, I began to weep.  I tried to tell another friend about it, and could barely get the story out for the great sobs that I could not control.  Later, I sat in a restaurant, and the tears came again, and I didn't care that I was sitting in a public place.  The pain and rejection that this woman had experienced from the day she was born weighed so heavily on me that I couldn't have stopped weeping if I had wanted to.  But I didn't want to stop.  I wanted to stand in the gap for her and lift her up to the Lord, the Lover of her soul.  I wanted to put my arms around her and love on her and tell her that she is beautiful and loved. 

One of the songs that my husband wrote and his band is currently recording kept ringing through my head.  Most of the lyrics fit the little bit that I know of this precious lady's story:

"Lies were planted in her heart when she was oh so young  

Told that she was ugly and she could not be loved... 

Who will win her heart with words that bring life, words that are true... 

Tell her that she's beautiful, Your beloved child  

The apple of Your ageless eyes, the reason for Your smile

Tell her that she's beautiful, created by Your hand

Destroy the lies of yesterday with truth from the Great I Am"

The word that came to me immediately for this lady was "Beloved".  She needed to know that she is greatly loved and wanted by the Lord. I have a strong drawing toward Hebrew names, so I looked up the Hebrew name that means "beloved" and posted the name "Chaviva" as my suggestion.  There were many other suggestions as well.  The next day, I learned that my friend's wife was unable to access the internet to read the suggestions, but that the Lord had dropped the name "Gloria" into her spirit, as this lady would host His glory.  She told us that she was going to read all the names to Gloria on Friday.  I believe that it will really impact her life.  I look forward to hearing the rest of the story soon.  

 “He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To him who overcomes I will give some of the hidden manna to eat. And I will give him a white stone, and on the stone a new name written which no one knows except him who receives it.”  Revelation 2:17

When Our Eyes are Blind, God's Teaches Our Children

    Recently, life in our home was filled with strife and confusion. Paul & I were suppose to go on separate trips and things were falling apart. I knew I needed to pray to get rid of some things messing with our family, but something always took my attention away when I had the time to do so. It was as if I were in a blind fog and couldn't see my way out or how to deal with it.

     Several days before our trips, I went upstairs and kissed Sarah good night. As I was leaving, she held out her hand and said, "mom"? I went back, took her hand, sat on her bed then said, "what sweetie"? She said, "things haven't been right around here lately". I said, "yeah, tell me about it"! She continued, "I talked to God and got rid of some things". I said, "oh thank you sweetie, that is wonderful"! Breathing in a sense of peace that had been missing for some time, I gave her a kiss, then stood up to leave. She said, "ya know, you could have done that a while ago, mom"! I said, "yeah, your right. I love you, thanks for taking care of it for us".

     Later it dawned on me. I wasn't allowed to see because it was Sarah's turn to step up and develop that Father daughter relationship with God. It was her turn to see through God's eyes and let Him guide her. 

     It is so wonderful to know that when we are finding our own way at times, God has our children in the palm of His hand. He will show them the way through the fog of life and teach them on a level that we cannot.

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Anticipation

   Over the past year I have been collaborating with some friends.  Our project??? Music.  We have spent countless hours writing, composing, arranging, rehearsing, and re-arranging. November will find us in the recording studio putting it all together.
  It has been a long process. None of us have played professionally before, and what started as a few friends playing worship songs together has become so much  more! Each song that we have written has a story behind it. Lyrics that were wept over as they were scrawled across scraps of paper. Musical sounds that carry the emotion behind the lyrics. Vocal recordings that were interrupted by tears.
  I thought in the beginning of this project that we might be able to play some worship events... nothing major. As the process has been unfolding, we have grown and so has our vision. In the next few weeks we will begin to shoot a video for one of our original songs. This same song is in the hands of a multi-state foster/adoption organization that is interested in using it as a promotional tool. The potential is exciting and scary.
  To think that someone outside of my circle of friends would be interested in hearing a piece of my journey set to music is almost unimaginable. Yet here I sit..... in great anticipation....waiting to see what God has in store for us.