Amidst Miracles

Sometimes searching for miracles requires retracing our steps.  Salomé says I can share her own special story of God's provision in the eleventh hour.

Newborn Salomé awakened on the morning of her 29th day of life with a fever. Within a few hours we found ourselves in the hospital surrounded by pediatricians, nurses and an infectious disease doctor, as she underwent multiple tests revealing nothing.

For six days I sat beside her bed, vigilaint, hardly sleeping or eating, reading my Bible and praying as our preciouis baby became grey and listless.  There were no answers as to why our healthy child should suddenly decline at such an alarming rate.  Dennis and my mom kept the rest of the household going, but everyone felt helpless.  Friends spoke encouragement saying, "Why would God take a four week old baby who's already been through so much?  She will get well!"  I responded strongly, "Who are we to know the mind of God?  If Salomé's life is fulfilled in 29 days, then we must accept that.  She is God's, and we will celebrate the days he allows us to have her!"

On the sixth day of Salomé's illness I heard from the Lord, "It is finished."  In Texas, our adoption social worker Carol, heard the same three words.  Neither of us shared them, as we both believed Salomé would die. When the darkness seemed to consume the hospital room, on the night of that sixth day, two nurses entered.  One was round and bossomy, the other, who called herself the apprentice, was tall and thin.  They were rough and kind and I'd never seen them before that night (or since).  "Come," said the mentor, "Give me that baby and we will pray her back to life!"  She placed the fragile body on her ample chest and she began patting, praying and singing.  After several hours, Salomé began to move, the greyness disappeared and she drank hungrily from her bottle.  The women were gone before morning rounds. When the staff saw Salomé, they were speechless and every test incicated that her boby was completely healed.  We praised God!

Years later, Kelly, a friend of ours did her pediatrics rotation through that same hospital.  The first story she heard on her tour of the pediactric ward was of "The Crazy God Lady and her baby that lived..."

Just before stealing this writing moment, I was given a reminder that not only must we remember miracles, but we must look for God's quiet messages of hope in everyday things.  This clockface from a tower in Vienna ca. 1850 fills the dining room wall.  We have set it at the eleventh hour, because Jesus is coming!  It is obvious that the second hand is formed in the shape of an angel, but Today I realized that the minute hand is in the form of a harp.  Once the harp reaches the angel, in God's perfect timing, the Angels will Sing!  Until then, let's keep searching and praying for miracles in our own lives and over others, throughout the globe.  Joy abounds in time and space from the healing hand of God...encouragement from One Crazy God Lady and a Beautiful nine-year-old...to you!

Anticipating Joy

The air in the schoolroom felt stifling as Littles sprawled on pillows, the couch, the floor and me.  On the computer screen the late night movie, Hook, enthralled their spirits with adventure and fantasy, while I watched in celebration of Robin Williams' talent and in sadness over his death.

At just after midnight I carried Emmaus and Ezra, the sleepers, down to the twin blowup mattress I'd prepared in the basement and the others climbed into the big bed in the guest room (Gabriel's room when he is home).  The rumble of a pending storm outside startled me a bit as I slipped under the light covers beside Zion.  Dennis' 4:45 a.m. alarm would be the only thing awakening him upstairs as the Littles slept soundly in the coolness of the bottom floor.

At 3 a.m. Zion gruffly spoke, "Bloody nose Mommy..."  I pulled off my night-gown (the things we mothers do!)  and held it to his face as we navigated passed the mattress and coffee table attempting to not bloody the bed and floor on our way to the bathroom.  The light over the mirror revealed my night-gown still held to his nose, full of blood, and myself, almost naked and feeling vulnerable, as I soothed him.  Surrounded by darkness, as I held our boy, I thought of the Iraqi mothers holding their bloody children, watching earthly death steal from them their hopes and dreams of a new day for their families and future and I cried.

This morning, to my astonishment, the sheets of the guest bed were white as snow, still beautiful and appearing freshly laundered as they'd been before the night.  The day shone clear through the window where there was no trace of blood on the floor either.  Only my night-gown, soaking in the sink, bore the evidence of Zion's struggle.  Yet even the cloth of my gown no longer held the blood, the water had taken the stain into itself.

The jarring of the night led me to my Bible.  Psalms, Habakkuk, Zephaniah and Ephesians, the places in which I have found solace lately, did not draw me in.  So I started at the beginning and read from Genesis 1:1-4 "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.  Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep and the Spirit of God hovered over the waters.  And God said, "Let there be light," and there was light.  God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness."

Beloveds, if this earth were it, the beginning and the end of us...if we were but physical beings thrown as dice, dependent on the luck of the spot on which we dwelt, despair could consume us.  The sacrifices and selfless choices poured into each day would be for nought.  But it is not!  Our time on this amazing earth is only a small part of the real adventure.  This current planet home which sometimes drains us deeply with sorrow and struggle is really just the guest room, preparing our hearts for home.

And we can be sure that joy comes after long nights because we know who made the morning and our hope is restored as we daily learn to trust God more.  Death does not win,  Jesus' love has overcome it through his blood.  My acronym for HOPE today is this:  Heaven's Offering Promising Eternity.  There will be a time when blood, storms, sweat and tears are no more, that day is coming soon.   Together we anticipate joy in the light of Jesus' love and promises.

     

The Way

                     (Emmaus and our friend's dog Lido, three years ago)

Do you remember the disciples referring to the Gospel in the book of Acts as The Way?  What shall we do?  Which way shall we go?  This way...The Way.  Isn't it refreshing to know that God's way is always the right one, and the exact direction of our lives, to be lived in love, is displayed in God's Word through the life of Jesus.

Almost five years ago, on the 2nd of October, Ezra and Emmaus arrived home from Ethiopia, accompanied by Dennis, Gabriel and Magdalene.   At the age of two-and-a-half, Emmaus could speak fluent Amharic, which none of us could understand, except for the simple words meaning coffee and dog.  On his first night home, instead of sleeping, he screamed.  I held him and wept.

In the beginning of our adoption paperwork, when the process appeared almost impossible, Amara, our sweet friend and I saw a photo of Emmaus'  beautiful, solemn face.  The name on the email said Kidron, which means of darkness, sadness and obscure.

For years the name Emmaus had beckoned our hearts to the thought of another boy, even when we were in the process of adopting Zion, whose birthmother, Anna, chose us before he was born.  And while we prayed over a baby girl named Ezra.  (Zion is 9 months younger than Emmaus and Ezra is 6 months younger than Zion.)  Each name came to our minds more than nine months before the three Littles were born.  (No, there are no more names, in case you are wondering, though there was one...but that is a good story for another day.)

The road to Emmaus is the way on which Jesus walked, after his resurrection.  There was no more darkness, sadness or obscurity.  Jesus had risen and His followers could walk in forgiveness and the joy of transformation!  It was simply the definition of each name, Kidron to Emmaus, which gave us clarity in our adoption.  God would transform this toddler's life, as He had ours, and we would be given the privilege of becoming his parents.

Now, as a seven-year-old, Emmaus has written us a letter.  He first slipped it into my hand asking that no one else but Daddy be allowed to read it.  I have since been given permission to share it.

"oooooooooooo [hugs] I love you more than tv and Pie and cooking and friends.  I love you when you cook and when you bless me and our family and dad you bless me too and i love you'  you are my favorite mom and dad love Emmaus"

I share this today because God loves Emmaus, you, your dear ones, me and all His children.  Sometimes our circumstances or those of others' tempt us to believe He has forgotten us, or sent this world swirling without a care.  But even in darkness, we can trust and wait for His light.  It is on the horizon.  When our path seems sad, God will lead us through it and joy follows suffering when we stay close to Him.  And the obscurity of today, our struggles, this age; they must serve to draw us closer to the One who holds our lives in His hands.  We can find hope in God's way, and walk with Him along this earthly road, leading to eternity.  Be encouraged.  If one precious little boy, living under our roof, can have his entire life transformed by the love of Jesus, then you can trust your life to Jesus as well!

A Future with a Hope

We watched an ant haul a moth across the driveway.
A Little asked why.
"It might use the moth for food or building," I answered.
"Or perhaps it has always dreamed of flying," replied Emmaus.

In these dark days of loss and suffering in many countries throughout our precious earth, I am tempted to despair.  But the God of the Universe who calls us by name, who never sleeps or turns His face from our requests, is with us.   It is we who have been given the privilege to be the hands and feet of His compassion, healing, love, encouragement and sacrifice.

The Enemy is strong, his way is brutal, seeking to strangle our attempts to believe in Hope, seek power through prayer and act with courage.  He whispers or sometimes screams, "Fear men, fear me!  Fear the relentless violence and revenge...hide from the future, your dreams will be shattered as I destroy the innocent and most fragile among you, while you gaze in horror, helpless and weak.  I will prevail!"

Beloveds, God says, "Fear Not!" These are the first two words spoken by angels throughout God's Word when something big is on the horizon.  God will give us strength and direction now, as we turn to Him for revival.  We must open our hearts and our ears to The Lord, trusting that His sovereignty remains and His love will comfort, restore and guide His children.  As we turn our backs to Satan's lies, we receive encouragement and inspiration from these words given through
Habakkuk 1: 2-5
"How long O Lord, must I call for help,
but you do not listen?
Or cry to you, "Violence!" but you do not save?
Why do you make me look at injustice?
Why do you tolerate wrong?
Destruction and violence are before me;
there is strife and conflict abounds.
Therefore law is paralyzed, and justice never prevails.
The wicked hem in the righteous, so the justice is perverted.
The Lord's Answer
"Look at the nations and watch-
and be utterly amazed.
For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe
even if you were told."

We will call to The Lord, read and write words of truth and belief inside our very thoughts.  We must draw close to Him and pray for everyone and everything!  Prayer is powerful.  We can love well in the earthly realm in which we have been placed, as we hope in the eternal hope of Jesus that remains secure, though mountains tremble and seas quake.  God is alive and well and with us.  He shall overcome!

Like Emmaus we look at life with innocent eyes of possibility, trusting God with our dreams.  There is a future with a hope, secure in Jesus!

Isaiah 40: 31 equips our hearts with courage, "but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.  They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not faint."

 

Love's Portrait

Here I stand in an ink-blue, polkadot skirt, smiling at Master Artist Ezra.  She often draws portraits and writes love notes with the few words she can spell, to Dennis and me.  These we find taped to our bathroom mirror or bedroom door, wherever we may most likely see them.  Ezra loves well.  When a child invites you into their heart space, the soul is refreshed, unconditional love abounds there.

  

Not long ago I saw this unfettered love displayed through the actions of a stranger.  A Latino grandmother scooped up one of her two charges, spoke brusquely into his chubby face, then set him back on his tottering feet.  She leaned forward a bit in her chair and breathed out a rich sigh of pleasure as she gazed lovingly at both children.  

Our five Littles sat close to me, devouring soft ice-cream cones at the IKEA café, while I sipped hot coffee.  Our uncharacteristically calm demeanor allowed me a few seconds to enjoy the sight of the grandmother's love, expressed in her fussing over clean faces and full bellies, as she coaxed the smallest child to eat his last bite of hotdog.  She noticed me watching her and smiled at my crew as she extended her arm in a sweeping motion, "Mama?" I nodded.  She continued, in broken English,  "Oh, so, so beautiful, hmmm, nice."

In her look and actions, I was acutely aware that she believed I had birthed each of our five youngest children.  Women understand women.  I began to explain, but she would not let me speak. "No, it's okay, I know...and so, so, so beautiful...and you, yes, yes..."  she nodded kindly.  Her grandchildren were done and ready to run, as children often are in an instant.  She blessed me with her gentle eyes and bustled away.

In these eleven years since our adoption journey began, Dennis and I have had some interesting interactions, been questioned and sometimes felt almost accosted by strange remarks over our diverse family.  But I have never seen a reaction to the beliefs of this woman; that I must have had a life with many lovers, husbands or boyfriends... and yet instead of viewing me as one with a Scarlet Letter, she saw me as beautiful!

Condemnation is easily given power over our opinions, like a weed in the garden, it seems to pop up before our very eyes and displays itself vividly through our slightest glance.  The accusing thoughts attack quickly and if not wrangled in the instant, destruction of relationship or self-worth is immediate, as quickly as a gash from a dagger wounds.  I am in-tuned to this in the intimate choices of a pregnant teenager as well.  We say we support life.  We say promiscuity in our community is acceptable.  However, what is our true view of unplanned pregnancy?  Somehow judging the woman is an acceptable form of hypocrisy and condemnation in our society.

Psalm 119: 22 says, "Remove from me scorn and contempt..."  It always starts with me.  If I can look on others in the same way that Latino grandmother and my daughter look at me, then you will be loved well...and if you can look at the next face you see in that same manner, then they will be blessed, and... 

This is love's portrait.     

Impossible?

Ezra grabbed my hand and pulled me to the stone steps leading down the length of the yard.  "Mommy, Mommy, come see," Zion called, as he stood beside Emmaus gazing up into the branches of a tree.   This simple tree has lived and flourished for seven years on the lower terrace, but has never produced fruit.  Yet today, a single plum, almost ripe, invited us to stand under her canopy of leaves to behold her surprise existence.  Emmaus spoke in hushed tones, "It's a miracle, I've never seen a miracle before!"
"Yes you have," Zion answered, "when you were adopted!"

Are you waiting for a miracle?
Many of you know that for five years I prayed about adoption with no 'fruit', not even a hint that we may someday be able to adopt.  I prayed desperately for just one more child to add to our biological flock of three.  Never would I have imagined that for each year of prayer, God was building trust and patience in me, and that in His time, those five years would become five children!

The little discussion between a 7-year-old brother and his two 6-year-old siblings from across the globe, under a 7-year-old tree presenting her first plum, is the tangible miracle I see before my eyes today.   Trust God with your dreams, he planted them in you and nothing is impossible for Him!  

Unexpected

This morning I glanced at the familiar pots flanking our front door, as I turned from waving goodbye to Elias, who was headed to work.  The cascading blooms always steal my attention as I instinctively snip-off dead leaves and vines-gone-astray with my fingers.  To my surprise this simple variegated filler plant held up its beautiful secret; two white blooms.  I had no idea it had flowers to offer and yet if I did not look closely, perhaps I would never have noticed!

I am reminded of an event last week, ever so momentary, but poignant none-the-less that I wished to share with you.  As I sat in my car waiting on the green light for my left turn onto a side street, I noticed an elderly man.  He looked like a retired Santa Claus in overalls as he stood at the edge of his lawn with his hands shoved in his pockets.  He watched each vehicle closely as they passed by him.  The house beyond looked as unkempt as he did, not shabby exactly, but in need of attention.  I felt sad for him.  The cars were certainly fascinating to him in some way, or maybe it was the people driving them.  Perhaps he was lonely, weary and bored and came out to his curb every day to watch life pass him by...

The busy street suddenly cleared and in an instant, the 'lonely-weary-aging-Santa' dashed across the street, grabbed an armful of mail from his huge mailbox and zipped back over to his yard.  In a flash he was back inside his house!

I laughed out-loud at my ridiculous assumptions!  I almost felt as if I owed the gentleman an apology!

In my morning reading of Psalm 51 the focus is on self-examination, seeing our own sin for the ugliness it is and entrusting ourselves to God's unfailing love, making us white as snow and restoring our joy.  Only God knows the hearts of men.  Our job is to assume nothing, but to be willing to see the best in other's and to humbly expect joy in the unexpected.