A Kingdom Story

I'm processing a really sweet weekend with 430 adoptive moms.

Over the three days, I got into a habit of starting my conversations with, "What's your story?" Again and again, I heard God's faithfulness recounted. I heard how a longing to have a child or to adopt a child turned into a kingdom plight, involving and proclaiming the gospel to so many more.

Ministries started in Uganda, Zambia, Russia, Georgia, and right here in Birmingham, all because God began women and their families on a journey, and they obeyed.

Four years ago this month I sat in a Lifeline office. Jamie and I had just had our third son, and we wanted to adopt, what we thought would be that year or the one after. But as we sat in the car that day after our meeting, we prayed this wouldn't be just about a baby, but that the journey would change us, change others, make us long for Jesus more.

Four years, 10 foster children, many, many more friends, stories, passions, and dreams later, there is no baby or adoption yet. But, the journey has changed us. We long for Jesus as never before. Our hearts break for this world and its heartache. Our dreams are so much bigger. Our house is messier, calendar more crowded, hearts more broken, but we're more alive than ever before.

I sometimes caught myself over the weekend, envying another story. But as I talked with new friends, I was reminded that each of our stories is being written to bring HIS kingdom to earth in a way that only our story will. Our resources, homes, families, longings, have all been intricately designed to bring His glory to earth in a way that only each of us can. Who would want to rob that by longing for another's unfolding story, while missing our own tale of coming alive?

Not me. I've tasted what He can do, and I don't want to go back.

Pretty cool stuff coming in only 4 days!! Get excited :)

ROCK STAR AWESOME!

Rock star AWESOME!

So my good friend Melissa De hooked me up with the Created for Care conference! Where there will be 400 ladies coming--representing over 247 children who are no longer orphans...185 in process...and about 50 who feel called to adopt or to serve families adopting in some way, equaling over 433 children who now have loving families and are orphaned no more - Does that rock your world or what! I don't know hardly anyone going, but I'm beyond flipped out to meet these incredible people with desperate hearts for Jesus.

More ROCK star awesome!!

Sweet Mattie turns 14 today! Happy birthday beautiful, Gal! You changed our dreams, prayers, and longing for something much more beautiful. You made us want Jesus!

Even more rock STAR awesome!!!

One year ago today sweet Baby M came into our home. A large piece of my heart still belongs to you, and longs for you. But you are exactly where the Father planned for you to be. And every day, I cry out for God to use you in more than amazing ways for His glory. You've already done that in our lives and home.

Why Domestic Adoption?

It's becoming real.

No, we're not to the adoption point, and it still may be years. But we're hearing the names, learning of broken hearts, realizing the needs of homes for these little guys and gals, just entering the world.

We're being given even more chances to hit our knees, not for ourselves (though I would love for things to go my way), but for mothers and fathers whose worlds have fallen out from under them unexpectedly.

And we're waiting with hope for our crazy family to grow once again - not just with a baby, but with yet another mother who needs hope, renewal - someone to fight in prayer on her behalf.

We've had many ask why. And though, between homeschooling, fostering, and the rest of our nutty choices, I've grown use to the Why's, I have struggled over this one more than the others.

We've always longed to adopt. It's never been plan b. You know that if you know us well. Through a journey of exploring international, foster care adoption, and domestic, the deepest places of our hearts, long for all three. But, WHOA NELLIE, one at a time.

I have friends who have chosen life and adoption for their children. I have friends who have been adopted. I have friends who've survived the broken world of foster care. I even have friends who've had to surrender their children to foster care for a season. These are some of the reasons Jamie and fight this daily battle.

It's true. The tide could very well turn, and we could adopt some of the children who come through our home, but our hearts haven't lost the longing to pursue that one child, that one mother, that one hope.

So, we're waiting. But we know...

Our new child won't look like us. Our new child may not be "healthy." Our new child could be any color or race. It could be a boy or a girl. And our new child will never know a day where he doesn't know his mother's name, where he doesn't hear that name prayed for, hoped for, fought for.

Adoption transformed my life. I have friends who take offense to equating adoption with the gospel. But, the gospel is about transformation.

And...

Adoption is about someone fighting for you, pursuing you, calling hope out in you, when you never even knew it was possible.

So, for as much as adoption is about our new little one who we long for more than words can express...there's also a mother, a father, we long to join in the fight of hope for.

That's the why.

Real Life Parenting

If you don't already know this, once your second child arrives, your illusion of ideal children is blown. Add four more to that, a few illnesses, some trauma, and real life, and you can't even remember how to spell the word illusion - Thank you spell check.

If you've been in my life the last few weeks you know my passion child has given me the run of the money. I passed embarrassment several years ago when I realized one of God's most intentional tools of sanctification in my life would be this son, so I might as well give in and jump on for the ride.

But these last two or three weeks have been a doozie. Whether it's loudly moaning in church, "This is so incredibly boring," utterly disappearing in the middle of his basketball game, running away in the department store, reaching to touch the Monet in the art museum because he just wanted to hear the alarm, or again begging loudly for church simply to end because it's just too painful, I'm past the embarrassment. But today, I broke down after church and just wept.

We've been praying for a chance to share our story in church, God's story. Today was the chance. When Jamie walked to the front to share, I had three children visibly crying, one moaning that church is too painful for him, and one repeatedly asking me for crayons, and reminding me I forgot her meds, as she sneakishly giggled. I began thinking church may just not be worth it.

Not worth it?

As Jamie shared how Mattie's life changed ours, I looked at my insane crew. I held my passion child a little tighter, and he screamed. Then I was reminded...

Once there were these parents. After a long adventure, they began to journey home. After three days - THREE DAYS, PEOPLE - they realized their son may really not be around. Can you imagine the possible whispers and pity looks? I'm sure many in the little caravan knew Mary and Joseph's questionable history. And so they they traveled all the way back to their little adventure, only to find their son in the temple, asking them why they were so worried. Dude, do you know what I'd be doing to my passion child at that point?

I've been thinking a lot about this today. I know it's Jesus and it part of His story and calling, but you see, I believe that each of my children (foster and biological) can go and do anything God has designed and called them to do. It's something I fight to daily hold before them. I believe all their faults, their passions, their creativities and abilities, their traumas and stories, will be part of molding them for the way that they alone can advance the kingdom.

So, I won't be embarrassed when we reach for the Monet, or when we pull the fire alarm, or when we moan in church; I'll rebuke and discipline, Lord willing with grace. I remember the moments when He's sought after me, even when I've failed to obey and follow Him. I'll remind my passion child once again that he's gonna rock this world for Jesus, but getting him to that point is making me need my Savior like never before.

Then, I'll take a nap.

Share in the Sufferings of Christ

Yesterday I was listening to Josh McDowell on the Briarwood radio station - between the squealing baby, ABC's practice, fighting boys, and moaning big brother - very little was seeping through to me, but I was desperate for some renewal.

His focus this week has been on fellowship, and he was talking about sharing in the sufferings of Christ, as we hear the Apostle Paul refer to several times throughout his letters.

Then it hit me...Remember this is coming from a mom of six, paraphrasing what she heard through the clutter.

McDowell reminded that as we share in the sufferings of Christ, it is not necessarily speaking of those sufferings and pain that would naturally be in our lives from the fall, though, we are called to die to ourselves in the midst of those also. Instead, the sufferings of Christ are those that took on the pain of others, when He didn't deserve it. He bore those pains, to the point of death; he did not defend Himself, but stood for those whose pains He bore, even when they turned away.

I've been considering this a lot today. If I took away three kiddos, their families, social workers, court dates, and all that went with it, I would still have a good bit of burden, pain, and "out-of-controlness." But, being led by the Father, we've chosen to share in the sufferings of Christ, to those who really may not remember what has been done for them, to those who really may not appreciate the sacrifices made, to those whose pain is really, really messy.

And so I share.

This has silenced my soul when I've seen double the grocery bill, double the dentist and doctor visits, when I've cleaned up throw up in the middle of the night, and when I've held them even as they've screamed they hate me. In those insane moments, my soul has been quieted, because I see me, flailing against Him, even as he holds me tighter, pursues me more closely, whispers more tenderly.

As God has opened more and more doors for us to be in the life of families, we've heard one question again and again, "Who are you?" Sometime we also get, "What do you really want?"

To return their gaze and be able to say with full confidence, "We're just really broken people, but we're here to carry your pain and burdens with you for a time, for a season, just as He has done for us."

It's such a very short season, this pilgrimage, and so far, our invitation has never been turned down. But more than that, each time I've seen myself share in the sufferings of Christ, through sharing the pain of others, I can promise you, I've shared in His joy, His peace, His glory, so much more.

This Sacred Fight

I've wanted to feel overwhelmed. The pain of my children, the heartache my friends are experiencing, the seeming hopelessness of families we're fighting for. . . it's been getting the best of me.

I've complained to Jamie over the uncertainties. I want to know the how longs; I want to know the whens; I want to know the whys; and the ways my labor will be worth it. I want to know what my Christmas card will look like a year from now, and the little handprints that will line my walls and windows. I've pouted and wept over it.

We began to wonder if we're too "in over our heads." Everyone else seems to think we are. Do we need to get back to what's "reasonable?"

Can we limit the pain of others that we encounter?

Then God shut me up.

The story is hers. But I've said all along, that my journey with Big Sis could be one of the greatest stories of grace that God uses to change me.

I was doing a quick tuck in, because I seriously needed a break.

Then she said it.

I just want to know where I'll be next month, and six months from now; this summer; where I'll be in school next year; who my friends will be; where I'll sleep. Sometimes, it's just not fair, you know?

And just like that, a wall was broken. We held each other and wept.

No, sweetheart. I really don't know.

And I thought I had something to pout over.

The thing is, this life is overwhelming at times. If I look at it through human eyes, we're doing too much.

But my God is not overwhelmed.

These children, these times, these families and pains, were known by Him before my mother knew my name. Before my first cry, He handpicked me to be holding these hands, wiping these tears, and interceding for these hearts.

The truth is when we ask God to capture our hearts, He's going to give us more than we can handle, because that is where He begins.

I've had control. I've had order. I've had plans and dreams.

But, I want Jesus.

And so, I'm going to be overwhelmed.

I want my eyes to be stripped. I want my heart to be naked. I want my hands to be dirty.

I want Jesus. That's what I'm learning from a nine-year-old. I want to be incapable of loving, because I need to see my Savior who loves her, who loves me, perfectly.