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Monday, September 21, 2015

Remember

Yesterday was a gorgeous day here in Nebraska. We were all outside working and playing and just enjoying the day.

While outside, my oldest daughter was stung by a bee. I didn't see it or hear the screaming but three other children came to share the news (with varying degrees of dramatic flair). I waited for her to come to me because we have been helping her work through seeking help from her parents.

I waited 5 minutes... nothing.
1 hour... nothing.
2 hours... 3 hours... 4 hours...

...finally, in passing, she says "it's swollen."

Acting oblivious, I asked "what is swollen?"

"I got stung," she replied.

"I am so sorry babe, let me see it. Let me help you."

Then I asked why she decided not to tell me. She responded with an all too common belief, "I just have to deal with it, I just have to deal with it."

I have heard that so many times from her and my response is always the same. "No!" "Babe, you don't have to 'deal with it.' There are children that do have to 'deal with it,' and they are called Orphans, but you are not one of them. You are not an Orphan. You are my daughter."

Almost six years home and we are still regularly experiencing situations like this.

It's orphan mentality and the rejection still hurts
. So thankful Jesus shows me exactly how to handle the rejection. He knows it all too well.

I somehow believed that if I stayed home with them, put in my time, did some hard parenting for five or so years that some relief would come. I believed that we would have healthy attachments and life would be easy. Guess what? We aren't there and nothing seems easy.

Out of my three adopted babes, one has a pretty healthy attachment but the other two seem far from it. My flesh wants to be so angry. I feel entitled to a healthy attachment after all this painful work.

This morning I was up early, begging God to give me joy going into this day. I went over all the ways we need to grow as a family. I felt very overwhelmed.

Then, God started to flash moments and memories of hope and movement in the hearts of my children. Lord, help me remember all that you have done.

Remember when she asked for a hug.

Remember when she apologized.

Remember the letter she wrote saying she loves you so much.

Remember when he was honest with his words and tears.

Remember when he stopped eating and was content.

Remember when he let you serve him with a big smile on his face.

(and the list goes on and on)

How could I forget so much? Lord help me remember!

I keep asking God to soften my heart to this life He has called me too. I feel pretty hardened to it all. As I pray for myself, feeling the weight of the burden, I am brought to tears and compassion for all the adoptive parents out there that said 'yes,' and now are in the throes of rejection.

I ache for you, adoptive Mama, that can't sleep at night.

I ache for you, who have lost friendships over this choice to adopt.

I hurt for you, Mama, that is rejected day in and day out.

I hope for you, Mama, that goes again the next day to win the heart of your child.

I feel your pain, Mama, that has lost her physical health over the stress of your new life.

I ache for you, Mama, who feels like she has intruders in her home.

I know how hard it is to chase a child down the road, over and over again, as they run from you. All you want to do is love them, and they run from it. Rejection is painful. I feel your pain.

The cost is great when you decide to adopt or foster.
To willingly open your life to so much grief is a big deal. I applaud you Moms and Dads! You amaze me, and there is much hope for us.

I have lost much but, the gain has been so much greater, MUCH GREATER!! This place of sorrow and grief has driven me to confront my own orphan spirit, which drives me straight into the arms of Jesus. Don't be afraid in the pain to get help of counsel. Jesus is with you and near to you and He will speak.

I have gotten into the practice of conversing with Jesus all day.

"Jesus lead me."

"Jesus what do I say now?"

"Jesus how do you want me to feel?"

"Jesus how do you see this child?"

"Jesus what do you want me to do?"

When I ask him, the most amazing thing happens. He leads me all day long. He is so patient with me as I fumble and fall. I just keep asking for more.

I am so needy but, I have been met with one of the hardest and most glorious realizations of my life: He is not annoyed with me. He wants to hear from me. He loves me.

I have always struggled with the notion that God is an annoyed father when I come to him. It was a huge step forward when He so tenderly showed me he was the opposite. He is a father waiting for me to come and ask. ( Hmmmm....seems like I may relate to my oldest daughter a lot more then I thought.)

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Hold onto Hope

I switched some laundry late last night and went to bound up the steps and a waft of human pee smell hits my nose. Unfortunately, this is an all too familiar smell. I immediatly scream 'Noooooooo!' in my heart. 'NOT AGAIN!' In the last year, our youngest has had many heart issues coming to the surface and it has been difficult. Now, don't get me wrong, it is good for these issues to surface no matter how hard it gets. He has chosen to use pee to hurt us in many circumstances. He is upset with us so, of course, he thinks 'lets find a place and pee.' It makes perfect sense, right?

So, of course, I can't sleep last night I want to get him up and yell 'WHY?!' You see, each day has been an incredible struggle to love him through constant fits, yelling, destruction, lying and manipulation. I have found that with each heart wound we face with the kids, it tends to trigger a heart wound of my own.

But, there is beauty in it.

I have become a puppet of the most High Puppeteer. I am so dependent on Him. Even more than before. It seems I can't do even one thing until He leads. Tone of voice? Ask Him to add the sweetness. What do I say? Ask Him to give the words. What consequence? Ask Him for divine wisdom. How to hold them? How to pray? New ways to love them? New limits? I'm so incredibly dependent. The Bible is our handbook and the Holy Spirit guides us. I don't like being this weak but, this is exactly where God has me.

Another stream of light piercing this darkness
My oldest beautiful daughter, who has brought me to my knees more than anyone ever, has sat back and watched me deal with these difficult situations. Sometimes she watches with tears running down her face as I hold an almost seven year old as he kicks and screams. She has come to me twice, and through hard sobbing, apologized for doing the same thing to me. This is something she has not been able to do, ever. I think she sees my love for her as I do the same for her baby brother. This is a huge breakthrough for her.

Hope for him, from HIM
Today I ask God for Hope. Not hoping that my son will change. Not hoping that he'll stop peeing in weird places. Not hoping that I will do it all right. Like many days before, today I cry out 'Lord I don't want to do this!' 'Jesus change me, change him.'

But, I asked for this life. I even begged God for this. I am living my 'dream.'

So, today I cry out today for the hope that comes from knowing that God is eternal. That the steadfast love of the Lord endures forever.

Hold onto Hope
So today I hold onto HOPE; Hope in my heavenly Father. That HE is the same yesterday, today and forever. I hope in His love that it will never fail. I hope in the great Puppeteer that will guide my every move. I hope in Jesus, and that it is enough.

Hold onto hope, there is a day that is soon approaching when the weak are made strong, hold on.
Trust in His love even when the night feels like forever, the morning will come, hold on.
-Benjah
Hold onto Hope -Benjah Lovd ones

Saturday, March 8, 2014

447 adoption summit

We are so excited to announce that we are doing the adoption summit again this year. Make your plans, you will not want to miss this.

http://447summit.org/

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

Looking Forward to February

This morning I said to myself, "I don't like February." It is always a hard month for me. Holidays are over and the winter continues on, often cloudy and cold. A season of sickness and being cooped up inside. I really don't like this month!

Immediately God whispered, "What if you learn to love this month?" "What if you refrain from trying to hurry it along?" he continued. "What if you find me here in this cold and cloudy winter?" You see, that was exactly my plan. I wanted to rush this month along looking forward to the warmth of Spring. That's where God stopped me.

What happens when your children are all school age and there are no more cute babies or funny toddlers and they all are weird and have really stinky breath? Seriously, it seems with every baby tooth lost another level of halitosis is gained. Discipline is harder and the conversations are longer. You see them and hear them running away from God. Their sin becomes bigger and harder to fight. They listen in on every conversation you have wanting to be a part of them all. Privacy is lost because nap times are gone, especially if you are a homeschool mom. Can you tell this is a hard place for me right now?

We all have our hard places. One of us may struggle in one area while another thrives in that place. Each of us are unique, yet God meets us individually, patiently parenting us through our lives. He knows what is best for us.

So I asked myself:

What if I could learn to love this stage?

What if I took my days and asked God what He has for me here instead of wishing the days away or worse, dwelling on past days with babies and toddlers.

What if when my kids look weird and smell weird, I learn to pull them even closer instead of push them away?

I'm not sure I can do that, but the questions linger.

What if we could learn to love the hardest parts of our life because they lead us to our greatest encounters with Jesus.

I recently had a conversation with a friend about working out. I suggested that she try and remember the 'after the workout' feeling. That feeling motivates me to work out again and again, even when I really don't want to. That feeling! We must remember that feeling.

It's the same as we think about upcoming struggles.

Do you remember walking through a difficult time? A hard marriage, death, physical pain, emotional pain, waiting in adoption, a failed adoption, infertility, sick children, betrayal, PTSD, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, nervous break down, homeschooling, raising children, singleness? Did you find Jesus in that place? Did you get close to him? Did you experience freedom? Did you get more of Him?

Much like the feeling after a workout, do you remember that feeling after you did all that heart work. Was there a new freedom? a new truth revealed? Remember that feeling so, as the next hardship comes, you can say "Yes, Lord! Let me find you here!"

If you have never experienced this, now is the time to ask God the hard questions.

Can I know you here?

Will you hold me here?

And then, take the time to listen.

Our Heavenly Father loves His children. He is faithful and patient to come to us again and again. He will come after us and He will do whatever it takes to teach us to come near to Him. He knows that true joy is only found in himself. It is where we are safest. I often fail to learn this the first time around. Sometimes it's the second, third or fourth time. As I turn to worldly things to fill me or distract me, He patiently loves me back to himself. I feel him say, "let's try this again." "Look to me," he says, "and you will find the rest that you seek."

So, I respond.

Lord, let me find you in February. Let me know you are here. And in knowing you're here, I see things in a new light. A light that breaks through the deepest places of pain and brings new perspective; an eternal perspective.

This is where the hard place becomes the secret place.

The place where Jesus draws us close as we persevere. The place where He reveals himself in a new and deeper way. Could this become a place that we start to look forward to? Could I ever look forward to February?

What is your 'February'?

Tuesday, January 28, 2014

In the Midst of the War

I am two very different people. And they are at war with each other every day.

One of them operates without the Spirit (flesh), while one is walking in the Spirit (Spirit-led). They bring me to drastically different responses to a variety of situations. The spirit ushers me to Jesus where I get more of Him. The flesh creates responses that cause separation from Him. The flesh seems a much easier and more readily available response.

For example,

I tell my daughter that it's time to walk the dog. She responds with a look of death topped of with rolled eyes. The flesh wants me to say with a prideful tone, "How dare you look at me like that. I am your mother and I have loved you through every difficult day. I give my life to you. I love you when your breath smells, and you smell, and when you look weird, act weird, and make my life so hard."

Yet, if I respond in the spirit, it creates a different atmosphere.

"Babe I know you don't want to walk the dog but thank you so much for helping out. It means so much to me," I say, "Come give me a hug my lovely daughter."

(Of course, I struggle to speak those words without sarcasm.)

The spirit-led response is difficult. But, when I choose it, something happens to both her and I. I feel warmth from my Father and she does too. His love absorbs all pride and anger. We both win.

Another example:

My son looks me straight in the eyes and tells me a lie. I know it is a lie and he even has a smirk on his face to intensify things. My flesh is screaming to let loose and yell like a crazy woman. Lying for me is a huge betrayal and it really burns me up. I want to yell "how could you lie to me?" "I am your mother and I love you!" "Don't you dare lie to me!"

I have that look in my eyes, wide-eyed, leaning forward a bit, over enunciating every word because I have to; I mean it. That is, of course, the time my child clams up and is afraid to even look at his crazy mother. My flesh is being fed and I want to yell even more now that he can't talk.

OR, I could respond differently and say:

"Son, I don't think you are telling the truth. I know how hard it is to tell the truth; it takes courage. Let's pray and ask God for that courage." Then, I hold him near me while we pray. I wait and see what God is doing here. I often underestimate what God can do without me and my words.

As I ponder these things, I think of How my heavenly father deals with me in my sin. He is not yelling at me from across the room or looking at me with disgust. He is near me with eyes full of grace. There are often consequences for our sin, just like for our children. It's a part of loving. But even in the consequence, He is near. He is warm and understanding. He is holding me and encouraging me to live holy and blameless in the midst of the war. I love this thought and as I so often choose the flesh as I parent, once again it reveals the holes in how I view my Father. If I am to imitate Him, my reaction cannot be in the flesh. When I teach and discipline my kids, it will not be from afar. It will be close and it will be good. It will be filled with grace.

If I want to be near my Father where it is safe and warm, I must choose the more difficult path. The road of love and grace, delivering consistent consequence, is the hardest road in the heat of every moment.

This road is narrow but, it is filled with light and warmth. It is where joy can be found in the midst of the struggle.

Saturday, January 18, 2014

A New Place

We are getting close to four years since we first brought our 3 children home from Ethiopia. The memories of where we've been are still clear, but these years have been so hard and so crazy that it seems like a compilation of hard places.

It seems almost weekly I hear of a disrupted adoption or of families in great despair as they try to hang on and love there children through deep heart wounds. I ache for them. As our family continues on this journey, I am able to feel their pain. It seems to consume every moment of every day. My own wounds have been triggered. There is no hiding from the way I feel or how I react in my most painful places. My heart is exposed. More than that, it has exposed a false view my heavenly Father.

BUT GOD is not leaving me there.

I am asking and He is listening. I am asking for a more intimate place and He is answering. I am asking for freedom and He is giving. I am breaking the friendships I have made with fear, disappointment, and frustration. I am building new friendships with joy, love, and peace. And patience, of course. As the years go by, I ask myself, 'Why so much pain?' Is it because we said 'yes' to three children who are deeply wounded, or is it because I am expecting God to lead me from afar while he is asking me to walk closer to Him?

I am starting to see that the issues are more embedded in the way I view and relate to Christ, and less about how my children relate to me. He's taking me to these places for a reason.

My days are often overwhelmed with hard moments: uncontrolled emotions, inability to express true feelings, meal-time fear, hurtful words, and awkward hugs that don't quite feel at home yet. In the midst of it, I see Christ summoning me from the end of the church aisle, like walking toward Jake on our wedding day. I am crying just like I did at my wedding, yet these tears are different. I am crying with fear; fear to get too near to Him.

Why am I afraid of my loving Father? On this journey, I often feel like he's a coach, asking me to do hard things from afar. Yet He's not far at all. He wants to lead me through this from a very intimate place; our secret place. So I take a few steps towards Him, all the while trying to carry burdens in my own strength. He continues to call me down the aisle. I stop, I stumble, holding onto the pews for support, not sure I can do it.

I know the closer I get the more broken I will be. I will let out deep cries of pain in the safety of his embrace. I will lose it.

But, what if I don't want to lose it?

I have so many things to take care of, so many conversations to have, and so many hugs to give. He keeps calling me. I want to run but I drag my feet. I take little steps, just like my Addie when I make her practice running to me for a hug. I am not much different then my beautiful twelve year old that spent the first eight years of her life in constant pain.

Still, he calls me down the aisle.

Sometimes, I run out and leave the church alltogether, trying to find a place where I won't feel so vulnerable. I always end up crawling back up the steps. I just can't stay away from Him. The closer I get, the warmer I feel. Each pew I pass reveals new things in my heart and I have to lay it down.

I have to lay it down.

I am tired of asking God to lead me from afar. I want to be close to him. As my friend Sara Hagerty says, I want to be 'close enough to smell him.'

So, I am going to keep going. I am going to keep asking. I am going to get there. I am on my way.

This is a new place for me.

Friday, November 30, 2012

Adoption Summit

We are hosting an adoption summit. We are super excited about it check out this website for all the details.
www.447summit.org