Life as it is. Sunday's coming.

This time of year the stores fill up with plastic eggs, chocolate extravagance, and multicolored stuffed bunnies.  I don't generally over think or over react to the secular variations of Christian holidays (goofy traditions can be fun) but for reasons other than my general revulsion to materialistic gluttony, I struggle to make room for it in my head.  I can't reconcile fluffy overpriced bunnies with the enormity of a blood drenched cross where our murder of God accomplished His own plan to saves us.

 Maybe the muddy snow outside my window puts a grimy damper on the whole daffodils and tulip Easter stereotype, but I think it's more than that.

I look around me and I see this aching and twisted world torn apart by suffering and sin, and all the plastic grass, and food coloring in the world can't hide it from sight.

Last week dear friends of ours received the phone call that every parent fears getting.  Now they wait in a hospital room for their college age son to wake up from a coma.  An athletic young man so full of life, faith, and love...now broken in a hospital bed. Life as they knew it changed in an instant.  Proof, as if I needed any that Karma is a lie, and that the snake oil "prosperity gospel" salesmen who call themselves preachers are liars too.  As if our words have the power to speak good fortune into existence. I am grateful that his family trusts deeply in the One who does breathe life, and who can heal the broken.  Jesus is their sustenance, and the sovereignty of a good God their assurance.

This week we received a message from our second home, telling us that a child we know and dearly love has been sold by her own mother.  A mother I had hoped would not try to sell her children again. A mother who was sold into marriage by her own mother at age 13. I struggle to comprehend the brokenness. Sold like a piece of property, bought by people who satisfy their own wickedness by stripping the soul of a young girl. Thankfully she has escaped with her baby daughter. Can the cycle end?  My ache and rage coexist.

I feel a small taste of God's white hot wrath against sin that enslaves and crushes, as my heart breaks with His love for the sinner.


Daily my newsfeed and computer fills with the faces of orphans desperate to be seen, craving love. How can I not enter in?  How can I refuse to look?  Not seeing doesn't erase them from existence.

Can I claim Christ's mercy and yet refuse to pick up a cross?
Can I claim his grace yet refuse obedience?

The answer is one that I struggle with as the Spirit of God inside wages war on my doubt and selfishness.

I serve a God who came. He entered into our suffering and he bore it on his own bruised and bloodied shoulders.  Broken and poured out for a ragged and rebellious world.

I have one assurance, one place of rest, and one all sufficient provision.  Jesus lived the life I could never live, and died the death I deserved to die.  He finished it.  He bore it all.  He drank the cup of that white hot wrath to the bitter dregs, and rose victorious over my sin and death.

In light of that kind of love and sacrifice, I've been pondering what it looks like to live in this time "in between".   I have no idea how many years I will be given to me on this earth or what those days will look like.  I don't want to take any of this time for granted and waste it on plastic and fluff.  I want it to count.  I want to invest every bit of what God has so graciously and generously given me.

I want to invest in things eternal and significant.  The hard part for me is not being able to be in three places at once doing everything that pops into my heart. I don't have money, but I do have time, and gifts, and a calling. Surrendered is the word that has come into my mind a lot lately.  Living a life that is available and willing.  A constant re-aligning priorities and surrendering those dark corners.

Here's how that pondering fleshed out in real life last week.

After updating our home assessment, our family was put back on the social services call list as an emergency foster home.   I'm actually a little surprised that we haven't received a call, but we live with a daily expectancy of the unknown disrupting our comfortable life.  Who will this child be? How long will they be a part of our family? So many unknowns. A step into the dark..and then just waiting and trusting. Available and willing.

What I do know is there will be sacrifice involved and I'm not gonna lie...I have had a few whining chats with God about it for the past few weeks.

  I'm not necessarily anxious or afraid at the moment, but I am aware and counting the cost. One cost that I cling to the most, which may seem petty, is sleep. Our youngest is four years old now so I have more trepidation over reinstating midnight feedings and sleep deprivation than I do anything else. The other is the inevitable unpredictability and loss involved. It's going to hurt, there is just no way around it but at the end of the day it's just not about me.

It's strange to feel so compelled, and yet so aware of the certain heart break that will ensue.  My heart on the line again, willing to be used up, and poured out...but yet I know without a shadow of a doubt that ultimately someone is in control of it all, and that Sunday is coming.

I consider it a joy.

Resurrection Sunday reminds me that the I can go bravely into battle because the war has already been won.  It will be made right.  There will be justice, the broken will be made whole, truth will dispel the darkness, and every tear will be dried.  We have a hope beyond mere human effort, and "good deeds".  Any good thing I have to offer, anything good that you might see, is all God's grace at work.   This is just me putting one clumsy foot in front of the other, clinging to His strength, certain of my own weakness.


Sunday is coming.

That is our hope.  Jesus is alive, Jesus saves and Jesus makes all things new.

In the meantime, there's a race to be run.










Soli Deo Gloria,

13

I just realized that 13 years ago today I gave birth to my first child.
That sounds so very odd to say because celebrating your first born entering their teenage years is typically a pretty big deal.

I guess it's just not when that 13 year old has been missing for 13 of those years.

He's not here to remind us with his adolescent boy presence.  I'm not reminding him to go shower and to hang up his towel when he's finished.  I'm not wondering how on earth I'm going to keep him fed during his growth spurts. I'm not wondering how my little boy got taller than me so quickly, or assuring him no one notices when his voice cracks, or begin to see glimpses of the man he would become.

I don't do those things.   So when this day roles around, it doesn't come with a birthday morning hug, it doesn't come with cake and candles, it doesn't come with me tucking him in the night before thinking "this will be the last time I see him as a 12 year old".

Rather, it generally sneaks up on me.  There is an awareness every Spring that this is indeed his month, that Memorial Day long weekend was memorialised for me 13 years ago....but then life goes on.  The days clip by, life is lived, five children are tucked into beds every night, and fed breakfast each morning.   His birthday came as a quick check on the date on my watch after everyone had gone to bed... and a sudden realization that this is his birthday.  The. Day.  The day he was born.  The day he died.  The day I held him.  The day I said my final goodbye.  One day.  It's been 13 years since that day.

I've been a Mother for 13 years...but I'm pretty sure I was a Mommy before he was actually born, and continued to be a Mommy even when I ceased to have a child.  I first felt that fierce mother's heart when I realized that I would die to save the baby kicking inside me.  But I couldn't.  I lived and he died.

I carried in my body a child who I knew would not be mine for long.  His life was short, but I have no doubts that the ripples of that in tiny life continue far beyond my view.   His feet may have been small, but they left a print on this world.

The One who knit him together in my womb was not asleep the day he was born, He wasn't powerless while half my sons heart wasn't forming, and He didn't make a mistake when his chromosomes included one extra.   There is not a rogue atom in this universe that escapes the view of God.  I am confident of this, and rest completely in that assurance.

At the same time the sting of death, the complete and utter sorrow that is a mother burying her child reminds us that this is not what was once declared "good".  There's no way to escape the wrongness of it. There is no "silver lining" when one of my children is missing from the dinner table for 13 years.   When you hold your own dead child there is no pretending that death is just a "natural" part of life.  There is no white washing the sorrows that this sin corrupted, fallen world brings ...but there is hope beyond it...and our Hope came down into it.  "He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; (Isaiah 53:4) ", and he has victory over it (Isaiah 25:8).  Death does not have the final word.  The sorrows of this world may not be good, but He is.

"Therefore we do not lost heart.  Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day.  For this light and momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things seen but to the things that are unseen.  For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal." 2 Cor. 4:16-18


In the weight of all eternity.... affliction now will seem so light and momentary.
In his faithfulness, 13 years ago, He afflicted me with a grief I thought I couldn't bear...and I discovered I didn't have to.

Thirteen years later, I thank God for it, and for bringing so much beauty from ashes.

So today, there may not have been a brand new teenager blowing out his candles...but there was celebration of life.

There was sunshine, laughter, and playing.
We ate our lunch next to dear friends out on fresh new green grass.
There was a clown and balloons and a big walking sun.
We even ate cake, and ice cream.

(and ribbons won for potato sack races)

We may not have taken the time to specifically celebrate or solemnly remember Samuel...or ended up anywhere near a cemetery....
but maybe a day spent enjoying life, soaking up the sweetest things, worshipping together with friends, and loving deeply is the best way to remember my first born.

Happy 13th Birthday precious one.   Right now, as I remember the weight of you in my arms and looking into your eyes,  I wish could give you a big hug around your neck and tell you that in person.

"Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.  Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God.  More than that we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not pus to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been give to us." Romans 5:1-5

Sli Deo Gloria,

Missing

Today is Samuel's 12 th birthday.  To be honest I knew it was coming up but I totally forgot about it today until nearly supper time.
 I paused while I pruned bushes and mowed the grass to say "thankyou".  Thank you Lord for bringing our special little boy into our lives.  Thankyou for the time I had with him, and for all the ways he changed us.

Instead of crying over the 12 year old boy that "should be" riding his bike around town, tracking mud into the house,  and grumbling that he doesn't really need a shower....I instead turned my thoughts to how he changed me and how he tore open my heart for children with special needs.   In the days of waiting for a diagnosis, and of saying goodbye, my paradigm shifted.

Life has moved on, but it has moved on in a direction that I don't believe we would have gone if Samuel hadn't been a part of our lives for those 8 months.  

I did a lot of missing today, but the odd thing is most of my missing/ longing/ aching was redirected onto the child we wait for.   The child I now long to know, to hold , and to love forever.

The funny think with grief is it's something that can eventually be filed away.  The loss never disappears, but having to contend with the pain of it daily does.  If I take a peak into that file, stop to remember for a moment, my heart starts aching with missing.  All my "missing" appears to be filed together.  It can become like a dam that threatens to burst and spill over into all the foster babes I've loved and lost,  "my" kids in Mexico,  my little one in China....and my first born son that...all the little ones I can't kiss goodnight.   I tried to limit the missing by keeping busy doing housework and cleaning up our yard.  That worked pretty well but I still missed them.

However, aching doesn't bring me any closer to all the places that little pieces of my heart have been taken to, so I once again give my Swiss cheese heart to God and ask him to give me strength to keep loving and giving little pieces of myself away.

My boy Samuel, Mommy still misses you, even after so many years.

I vowed to carry you as long as your heart was beating,  what I didn't realize was that I'd carry you as long as my own heart beats.   I'll carry you there until I hold you again.


"Death has been swallowed up in victory.  Where, O death is your victory?
Where, O death is your sting?"   1 Cor 15:29


"He will wipe every tear from their eyes, there will be no more mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.
He who was seated on the throne said, "I am making all things new! then he said "Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true."
He said to me:  "It is done.  I am the Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End.  To him who is thirsty I will give to drink without cost from the spring of the water of life. "  Revelation 21:3-6

This revelation (unveiling) of Jesus Christ given to John gives me hope.   Jesus is still on the throne, sovereign over the beginning ,sovereign over the end....and all the little moments in between.

Something Hazardous

"My desire and prayer to God is that your life and your ministry would have a radical flavor. A risk taking flavor, a gutsy, counter cultural, war time  flavor that makes average American people in your church uncomfortable.  A strange mixture of tenderness and toughness that keeps people a little bit off balance.  A pervasive summons to something more, something hazardous, something wonderful.  A saltiness and a brightness about your life...something like Jesus. "


"Jesus said do this.  Be light. Be salt.   Reviling comes. Persecution comes....and you rejoice.
....Crazy people who meet cancer, and meet death, and meet suffering with unflinching confidence in Christ and joy in being known by him and loved by him." John Piper

So much easier said than done.

Are we willing to embrace suffering...especially the kind that we choose by following Jesus into a world that hates him?    Are we willing to set our face unflinchingly toward heart break, pain, sacrifice, sickness, and loss as Jesus set his face toward Jerusalem?

Our natural inclination is to run from it.   Run far far away.   We would rather live in pleasant denial, blindness, self righteous arrogance, or apathetic compromise. I know when I  face unjust criticism, slander, or malicious treatment I feel the need to justify, defend and vindicate myself, anything but carry it to Jesus.

The honest truth of it is, we love our own lives, our reputations, our comfort, our money and our success more than we love the people of this world...or the One who died to redeem it.   We  love people for what they can do for us (or our kids)...not out of genuine grace and sacrifice.  If someone had nothing to offer us in return, no relationship, no obligation, no status, no reward...would we still love them?  At the same time, sometimes genuine love involves holding someone accountable, and leading them toward God's best for them...even when we have to risk our own desire for relationship, reputation, and convenience to do so.

"When Christ calls a man , he bids him to come and die"  Bonhoeffer.

Most Christians hide from persecution.  We crave the affections and approval of people more than intimacy with and obedience to Jesus.  We bow to the idol of people pleasing, and self preservation.  We avoid discomfort at all costs.

Do we truly reflect the one we call our Lord?  Or do we just use him as our self help cousellor, ticket to heaven, moral example, or good advice giver?
Are we willing to actually get our hands dirty?  Are we able  to be slandered, rejected, despised, and hated  and to glorify God in the midst of it all?   Are we willing to be unpopular for speaking truth?  Not likely. Not without the work of the Holy Spirit in our hearts. It's easier to numb ourselves with easy lies.

"The truth will set you free"....but  in this life, for many believers, that freedom  looks like imprisonment, death, and persecution.

I think most average North American Christians know very little about suffering for doing good.  I know nothing of the persecution that many believers in the world and throughout history face.  The concept is completely foreign to most of us.   It seems we believe more in a Christian version of karma than we do the actual bloody, sacrificial, radical love displaying gospel of Jesus.   We tell our kids...."be nice, and people will be nice to you"...and even worse we believe it.   

I hear sentiments from Christians like "God just wants us to live our best life" in the context of make a lot of money, pursue a lot of wonderful experiences, and buy a lot of stuff to make us as happy as possible.  "If I'm a good person and try to live a life of integrity God will bless me with success, money, comfort etc" , as if God owes us something for our efforts.  {As if our moral efforts are anything but a steaming manure pile compared to the holiness of God.}  The problem of that line of thought is, at some point every body will come face to face with pain and loss regardless of how good you think you are.   How will your shallow sentiments and Christian karma feel then?  Probably like cold comfort...or an uncomfortable itchy sweater that you can't wait to tear off. What if God's blessing comes to you in the form of suffering...a "thorn in the flesh"?  Can we thank him for loving us enough to train and test us?
I think too many Christian believe the myth that "Jesus will make all your problems go away"...eventually He will...yes...but that comes after you die.  Until then, you follow in the steps of a homeless guy who was crucified, chances are that path isn't all gum drops and roses.  Pain brings us face to face with our idols and in crushing them...teaches us the essence of worship.

At some point everyone  feels the weight of grief, loss, disappointment, and the sting of betrayal.   If you are a follower of Christ you will, by default, choose it...and you will only thrive in it by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Jesus warns his disciples, and Paul warns the churches that they WILL face hardship and suffering.  The disciples all chose death, stoning, being boiled alive, and crucifiction instead of returning to their previous comfortable life.  Not because they had to, but because God's love compelled them to.


When you choose to swim upstream your muscles will burn and ache and you will get slapped in the face by some salmon.  If you're comfortably floating downstream in an inner tube chances are you'll think this whole river ride is a breeze.

If you do nothing, if you stand for nothing, if you are not a threat to Satan and his ongoing deception and destruction, if you don't venture out,  if you don't speak the Word,  if you don't point to Jesus, if you don't  love the people that the lost world and the religious moralists despise.....you will feel no sting of opposition.

"In fact, everyone who wants to live a Godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted, while evil men will go from bad to worse, deceiving and being deceived." 2 Timothy 3:12

I know someone who risked it all to love a child..poured their time, affection, money and tears into a child for a decade but were turned away by one judges ruling. Opposition.  That is running toward pain, counting the cost and following Jesus.   That is not playing it safe.

If you love sacrificially,  extend grace radically,  give generously, speak truth boldly, serve with humility, step into a journey of reckless faith,  and count your own life as loss...

You will be slandered.  You will be cast out.   You will be rejected.   You will suffer loss and heartbreak.
You will be opposed.
At some point you will look at your completely empty bank account but trust that God will provide.  You will know from experience that God will give you the strength to persevere even when everything around you says quit.

And you will thank him for loving you enough to refine you even more...
and you will beg Him to show you more of His glory.

"In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have to suffer grief in all kinds of trials.  These have come so that your faith - of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire - may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed" 1 Peter 1:6

"Do not be surprised, my brothers, when the world hates you.  We know that we have passed from death to life, because we love our brothers. Anyone who does not love remains in death.  Anyone who hates his brother is a murderer, and  you know that no murderer has eternal life in him." 1 John 3:13

"Therefore as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience.  Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another.  Forgive as the Lord forgave you.  And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity."  Colossians 3: 12








On a different topic.   Have you heard of Marc Martel?....he was on Ellen this past Monday because his video singing "somebody to love" by Queen went viral and he entered a cover band contest.  He is a Canadian prairie boy too.  We actually attended the same Bible College as my husband and I did.  Small world.  Anyhoo.....he and his band are called "Downhere".  They have been a favorite of mine for years.  Check them out on youtube ...then go buy their album on itunes.

Here is Marc singing a very applicable song by Keith Green.  I love it!!
"the world is sleeping in the dark that the church just can't fight 'cause' it's sleeping in the light.
how can you be so dead , when you've been so well fed?   'Cause Jesus rose from the grave dead and you can't even get out of bed"



and just for kicks...Queen.

The Mercy Quilt

A quilt lovingly, painstakingly, patiently cut, stitched and embroidered.  

Hours spent kneeling.  Hands cutting fabric and a spirit deep in prayer.  

Boxes full of seemingly useless clothing salvaged,  a reminder of a life as vibrantly complex and contradictory as the mismatched patterns and colors stacked and waiting to be sewn.   

The hum of a machine that once belonged to the owner of the clothing now being used by an only daughter to sew a quilt for a granddaughter.  Two sets of freckled hands, two women with an ability to create beauty, united for a moment.  

Three generations being stitched back together in one quilt.

Grief untangled like thread woven  through knotted generations....   

 Severed mother/daughter relationships going back 6 generations. 

Women broken under their burdens.

Curses uttered with painted lips.

 Scars well masked and covered from sight.  

Daughter wounded and abandoned

turned to Mother who wounded and abandoned.

Each one tries, Lord knows she tried...but the well was dry.

  

Each woman sought to fill the well with something.

Like patterns laid on top of fabric each generation imprints their own pain on next.

Patterns are difficult to alter.  What has been cut is hard to mend...

but not impossible.

God is intricately piecing lives back together.

Grace.

Mercy.

Love.

Regeneration.

Hope.

Stitched into each square.

Random and uncharted beauty.  

Memories of women long gone.  

Forgiven, loved, and freed from the chaos they caused,

and the carnage they chose to overlook.  

Reality forgiven,

to free the future.

Bitterness, longing, hurt released.

Fabric embracing three generations of women who  never once stood in a room together. 

3 generations of females who never celebrated Christmas in the same house...

are now bonded in this quilt.

A mother.

A daughter.

A granddaughter.

A reminder of God's mercy

and renewal.

Mercy that we all so desperately need.   Mercy that we can now freely give to others. 

New beginnings,

with new patterns.

Beauty out of suffering.

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ,

he is a new creation;

the old has gone, the new has come!

All this is from God,

who reconciled us to himself through Christ

and gave us the ministry of reconciliation:

that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ,

not counting men's sins against them.

And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation.

We are therefore Christ's ambassadors,

as though God were making his appeal through us.

We implore you on Christ's behalf:

Be reconciled to God.

God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him

we might become the righteousness of God.   

2 Corinthians 5:17-21

Redemption.

"I took you from the ends of the earth,

from the farthest corners I called you.

I said "you are my servant" I have chosen you 

and not rejected you.

So do not fear, for I am with you;

do not be dismayed, for I am your God.

I will strengthen you and help you;

I will uphold you with my righteous right hand"

Isaiah 41: 9-14

"Therefor, I urge you brothers, in view of God's mercy,

to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God-

this is your spiritual act of worship.

Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, 

but be transformed by the renewing of you mind.

Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is -

his good, pleasing and perfect will."

Romans 12: 1

Brothers Reunited

Yesterday we heard the news that Javier's little brother Feliciano followed him to Heaven.

From what I've heard it was a shock to everyone.

No one expected that both brothers would be gone the same week.

Little Feliciano was in his class at the Learning Center (at the mission in Baja) when the Father called him home and  he graduated into heaven.  

I know there will be a lot of mixed emotions.  

Devastation for a family who lost 2 sons within a few days of each other.

Shock and trauma for the staff and children who witnessed his passing.

Joy that he has been freed from the illness that ravaged his muscles 

and that he is reunited with his brother Javier.

The loss of these two boys leave will leave an aching void in the Learning Center and in the hearts of all those who loved them.

Our friends in Baja Mexico are burying another one of their beloved children today...two little bodies laid to rest within a few days of each other.  It's hard not to be there with them as they say goodbye.

Please pray for the dedicated and loving staff who have poured so much of Christs love into those two little boys over the past several years.   I know their hearts are broken. 

Fully Healed

As we sang this song at church this morning I stood with my arms raised and tears running down my cheeks.  Both grief and joy mixed and caught me off guard.

Yesterday a very special young man named Javier was healed.  He was freed from the body that was so very weak and sick as he was called home by his Heavenly Father

Javier's beautiful soul, that was such a blessing to all those who knew him, is now with the Lord he loved so much.
He lived his life wracked with physical sickness and disability but with every corner of his spirit he lived in the fullness of Christ....la plenitude.

That boy always cracked me up!  I don't know what I was laughing about but I guarantee Javi was at the root of my amusement.  Just look at the smirk on his face.  He was probably telling me I should ditch my man and marry him.  

It was an honor to call him my friend.

His joy was contagious.
His smile ,that required more strength than he had, was infectious.
He was an adolescent boy that was utterly dependent on his caregivers for every physical need but
he lived his life with a  faith and strength that few of us will ever know.
He lived life in it's fullness.

Although we grieve, it's hard not to be happy for him.
His faith is now sight .
He loved to sing and now he is singing along with choirs of angels.
He can run, dance, climb and jump.
He can run into the arms of his Savior.

I know this boy had a special place in the Father's heart, and even though he was the weakest among us he had a mighty calling.   He brought people closer to the heart of God.


Javier worshiped and praised the name of Jesus with every bit of strength he had...even while he suffered.


Javier I miss you already.
I had hoped that when I  left Mexico 15 months ago that we would meet again soon.
I'm sad that I won't be able to take you for bike rides, see your smile, or crack jokes with you when we return....but I know we will see you again.  Soon.  I remember saying "hasta luego" (see you later) to you instead of goodbye when we left because goodbye's suck.   Hasta luego  y te quiero mi amigo.

Javier will be missed terribly by his family including his brother who also has Muscular Dystrophy.  I can't image how hard it must be for him.  Javier lived with his family but spent his days at the Missions "Learning Center for Children with Disabilities".   He was a part of everyone's life at the Mission/Orphanage in Baja.  He will be missed by all those who cared for him.    Please keep them in your prayers.  He was well loved by so many and will be missed.

No more sorrow.  No more pain.

This next song I've heard was one of Javier's favorites.  A song he requested to be sung to him on his death bed.


It is a beautiful song.  I loved singing this one at our church in Mexico.
The first few seconds of this version are cheese ball but stick with it.
For those who are Spanishly challenged...
It translates something like this (keep in mind I'm still quite linguistically inept).

God will not reject your prayer
Prayer is nourishment
I've never seen the righteous go unanswered
or remain in suffering.


We only need to wait
on what God will do.
When you raise your hands
It's the hour of victory


Oh, praise (worship)  {Him}
just praise  {Him}
When you're crying...praise
In the test ....praise
When you're suffering...praise.
It doesn't matter...just praise.
He will hear your praise.


God goes before you and makes a way
breaking chains and pulling thorns
He sends His angels to fight with you
He opens doors no one can shut
He works for those who trust
and walks with you day and night
raise your hands and begin to sing
your victory has arrived


People need to understand that God 
is working, even when he seems to be silent.
When you extend your hands
it's the time to overcome.


Praise God, Praise God...




No one I know lived this truth more fully than Javier did.


"....God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.  
He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things-
and the things that are not- to nullify the things that are
so that no one can boast before him.
It is because of him that you are in Christ Jesus, 
who has become for us wisdom from God,
that is, our righteousness, holiness, and redemption.
Therefore as it is written; "Let him who boasts boast in the Lord"  
1 Corinthians 1: 27-31

I remember his feet

He had perfect little feet with adorable little toes.

I didn't get enough time to enjoy those feet.

Not enough nibbles or tickles,

no muddy foot prints left in my kitchen.

No tickely grass or squishy mud.

No trying to clip toenails on wiggling feet, 

or checking to see if the shoes fit just right.

Just a few kisses on those tiny feet and it was time for goodbye.

It makes me wonder how amazing the grass in heaven feels.  

Next time I kiss those toes, our time together won't run out. 

I'll get enough. 

We will squish our toes into warm sand and run barefoot through the grass.    

Happy 11th birthday sweet boy.

My Empty Cradle

11 years ago my husband had spent hours working on this cradle in preparation for our first child.   As the day of our son's arrival drew closer this nearly finished cradle was set aside and work began on a new project.  

A beautifully crafted little box that would hold the ashes of our first born.

The cradle sat empty.

On the bottom was written,  

built in memory of Samuel.

Although Miss Cece moved to a crib several months ago this cradle still sits in her room.  It is typically either filled with toys and stuffed animals or clean laundry that needs to be put away.

If I lay on the floor and look up at the bottom of the cradle there are seven names and birth dates now written on it.

My empty cradle has held more little ones than I ever expected.    

 There was a time when I feared that it would remain empty.  God had a different plan. 

My empty cradle was a part of that purpose.

Beauty out of ashes.

This cradle never held my first born, but what a beautiful way for Samuel's legacy to live on.  

If it hadn't sat empty, would I have been open to allow God to fill it?

{Miss Cece}

{Silas at 2 years old pretending to be a baby}

{Cub}

{Peanut}

It holds so many stories of expectation, grief, longing, joy, learning to be a mother, sickness, love, worry, colic, sleeplessness, goodbyes, and welcoming new life.

{Silas}

{Aili}

{Roman}

I don't know what names will be added to this cradle in the future.   Perhaps my children will borrow it to use for my grandchildren.   Maybe we will add more foster baby's names to the list.  

Only God knows.

"You turned my wailing into dancing;

you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,

that my heart may sing to you and not be silent.

Oh Lord my God, I will give you thanks forever."

psalms 30:11-12

Mercies in Disguise

I heard this song on the radio for the first time this morning.
 I stopped clearing up breakfast dishes for a minute and just listened.
I have never heard a song that dares to point out where God's real blessings are often found.
We aspire to happiness, comfort, safety, health and success.  We ask God to give these things to us and our loved ones.  I need this reminder.
What if God has something better for us that can only be learned through grief, struggle, or heartache?
I want my prayers to look more like this.


I'm yours God, 
I crave more of you.
Bring me into your Holy presence and refine me with your consuming fire.
Teach me what love really is.  
Take away more of me, so I can see more of you.
Use my life for your glory.


Lord, my children are yours.
Help me to raise them with hearts that have been transformed and filled with you.
Give me your strength and wisdom every day. 
 Remove my selfishness as I pour myself out.
May my little ones truly know, to the depth of their spirits, the you are faithful,
even if that means you take them through experiences that strips everything else away.  
Lord I don't aspire that they be successful in the worlds eyes, 
perform to impress, or that they live safe and happy lives.
Make them strong in your strength.
Make them wise in your wisdom.
Create in them men and woman after your heart. 
Use them for you glory.
You hands, voice, and heart in a hurting world. 
Bless them with real blessings.  
The greater joy that can only be found
in the places few people are willing to look. 


May my Fruit be watered by the storms,
may they be fertilized by trials,
may they grow in desperation for more of you.
As they reflect your beauty may it bring 
nourishment to those around me.  

Empty me of distractions, selfishness, and ambition that is not a part of who You are in me.
Give me eyes to see your mercies in disguise 
and to receive the blessings 
that I'm too afraid to receive. 
Help me to trust in Your love even 
when it extends beyond my understanding.




We pray for blessings
We pray for peace
Comfort for family, protection while we sleep
We pray for healing, for prosperity
We pray for Your mighty hand to ease our suffering
All the while, You hear each spoken need
Yet love us way too much to give us lesser things

‘Cause what if your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears
What if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You’re near
What if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise

We pray for wisdom
Your voice to hear
And we cry in anger when we cannot feel You near
We doubt Your goodness, we doubt Your love
As if every promise from Your Word is not enough
All the while, You hear each desperate plea
But long that we'd have the faith to believe

‘Cause what if your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears
What if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You’re near
And what if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise

When friends betray us
When darkness seems to win
We know the pain reminds this heart
That this is not, this is not our home,

‘Cause what if your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears
And what if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You’re near
What if my greatest disappointments
Or the aching of this life
Is the revealing of a greater thirst this world can’t satisfy
And what if trials of this life
The rain, the storms, the hardest nights
Are your mercies in disguise

Loss and new life

Three years ago tomorrow our family lost one of it's own.

My twin sister's husband of nearly a decade was welcomed into his eternal home.

He was taken from a body wracked with pain and made whole. 

We will never understand why somethings happen like they do.

Or when they do.

I don't think I've ever struggled so long and deep over the sovereignty of God in allowing a loving father and husband to be lost.

I still don't pretend to understand it.

Death is a part of life.

It's a sucky, crappy, confusing part of living in this world. 

However, I know without a doubt that this world is not all there is.

As I look back over the 12 years that I considered him my brother I am thankful to have known him.

We loved him.

There is someone missing at our family gatherings. 

In the last 3 years we have watched his children grow.

We see his personality, his eyes, and his smile, in those children.

We continue to pray for my sister who lost so much. 

In the past three years we have welcomed a new brother in law and two step-nephews into our family.

2 adoptions and 2 new births also add to our family portrait.

Loss and new life.

The world continues to spin.

But for a moment I am pausing to remember and to thank God for 31 years of a life well lived.  

Rarely have I met a person with such a genuine caring heart.

Scott, we miss you!

reminiscing and missing

This was my family 2 years ago at Silas' 2nd birthday party.   I'm still missing the sweet little boy on the right.
How, after 2 years , can my heart still break and tears still occasionally come to my eyes?  I've had kids longer, I've fallen in love with and said goodbye to babies...but this boy won't let me go.  Shouldn't I be "over him" by now?
It's not like I'm overcome by grief  or thoughts of this boy are constant...but like any kind of loss it comes like little unexpected waves, and memories.
He  crosses my mind almost daily lately.  Maybe because my little miss Cece is growing into toddlerhood and reminding me of him. They have similar racial heritage which might explain some similarities.   Maybe it's because the winter we had him (winter before last) was the last winter we spent  in Canada.  Cold weather, ice skating and playing in the snow are all bring back memories.  I pray for him each time he comes to mind...sometimes thats the middle of the night.  I think God brings him to my heart for a reason.  I know he needs prayer and if thats the only way I can love him then I'm ok with the hauntings.
Fostering is a strangely wonderful yet heartbreaking experience.  First you are handed a perfect little stranger.  You are reminded that he does not belong to you but to the powers that be.  Then you are told to love this child as if he is your own.  As your loving actions precede any sort of loving feelings you start to realize that you are slowly but surely falling for this little stranger.   At some point you are shocked to realize that your heart is completely overtaken and you have fallen into crazy mommy love.  That run in front of a moving bus, fight a bear kind of love.  Next you are forced to pack a suit case, say a quick goodbye and never hear from, or see that child again.  In my case not even know where that child is going.  You will not be allowed to know what became of them.
It's messed up.
It's so broken,
but I guess so is this world we live in.  At the end of the day, I'd do it again...and again if thats what God has for us.  I know that I can be taken to the end of myself and survive.  Each time my heart breaks with loss, each time I love someone who seems unlovable ,I better understand the heart of God and  I become broken in a good way.

 This little guy would be 31/2 now.  I bet he's a big boy.   At a year old he was wearing size 3.
These two boys were both buddies and adversaries vying for mommy's affections.  Kade boy was so affectionate, snuggly and wanted to be where ever I was, doing whatever I was doing.  I spent hours rocking, snuggling and smooching on that boy.  Maybe thats why he was so easy to fall in love with.  He was a boy that needed a mama.

I just hope and pray that he got one.  One that loves him even more than I do.

Finding the words

It's been a while since I have written much of anything.  I think I have hit my first writers block ever.  Not that life hasn't been full of things to feel , express and write about.  I just didn't have the words to write and the words I had I couldn't write down.

8 days ago we got the phone call that my husbands mother died.  Since then life has been a whirl wind of emotions, plans, and travel.

It was a phone call we knew was coming but was heartbreaking just the same.

I am exhausted emotionally and physically.  

This past week we left all four kids with my amazingly generous parents for four days as my hubby and I traveled to the Motherland in the Pacific Northwest of U.S.  

It is a trip we knew was coming.

It was a trip we have been dreading and even fearing  for various reasons.

God went with us, before us and surrounded us all.  There were rays of kindness and mercy.  The sun shone warmly on our backs. 

A lot of prayer has surrounded and proceeded these few days and for every grieving member of the family.

We felt sustained. 

I felt Him remove my own fear and hurt and replace it with  genuine love and grace that could only come from Him.

As we spent two days with my husbands family remembering my second mom we had hope and comfort.

We all have hope.

I have so many moments, emotions, memories and words that I am unable to process into anything but paradoxical fragments.

Sadness, hope

deep love, deep hurt 

beauty, pain

 kindness, cruelty

grief, comfort 

sorrow, peace
confusion, understanding

trust, fear

remembering, choosing to forget

miracles

memories

moments

As we reunite with our children and recover with a lazy day back at home my overwhelming emotion is gratitude.

which I find odd. 

I know God has us, he has this, he has my second mom with him in her eternal home.  

I am humbled by the reminder of his perfect sovereignty and His attention to even the smallest details of our lives. 

 Rickey,  your "marvel bars", your cards and gifts, your creativity, your encompassing hugs, your love of beauty, and your big laugh will be missed by us all. 

Whenever I see china tea cups, bouquets of flowers or watercolor paintings,  Whenever I  taste spice tea....

 memories will make me smile. 

I see qualities of you in each of my children.  Your freckles, shoulder dimples, thick hair, and creativity has not   been lost but only been passed on.  (although the thick hair seems to have skipped over a few of your decendants)