Pressed

I once stood under the drenching of a delicious steaming shower while holding a cup of coffee.   Yes, true story.  I know it sounds more like a poorly written sit-com moment, the ones writers insert at 3 a.m. when they are spent and shooting begins at 6 (as if I know the art of TV screen-play writing!).  But haven't we all been in such a moment of stress and need?  That day when we are overwhelmed by the pressures of life, when all our coping and struggling come to nothing, so we double-dose on something normal yet verging on the ridiculous, thinking that by upping the anti we will provide for ourselves the courage and ability to get through the pain of the day.  It doesn't work.  It never will.

Pastor Jim Fleming used to say that when a waiter carries a tray of drinks and is jostled, that which is in the glasses spills out, indeed...and what might one find if we were jostled in such a way?

My own illustration comes in the kindergarten classroom form, since you have probably come to realize by now, that with children ranging from almost 23 down to 5, I never seem to graduate into elementary school.  When you and I are pressed, sweetness can be found.  How on earth is this possible.  S'mores!  The answer is simple, Beloved Friend.  When the heat is unbearable, and the refining fire is truly at work and we have come to the end of ourselves, if we have asked of God to do the filling...if we have sought His truth in His Word and trusted Him with our lives, even when the world laughs at our foolishness...sweetness will spill from our difficult circumstances.  Perhaps you wish to stop reading now?  Perhaps my solution looks flimsy and only for my life across the minutes and miles from your hard thing.  Test me, Dear One...not because I have authority, but because I have seen God's grace and beheld His truth in some terrible, dark places about which I can never tell you.  I know the truth that when God fills us up, when the nooks and crannies are filled with faith, hope, love and belief, you will find His goodness in unexpected places, empowering you to live joyfully, mightily and strong, because when pressed, His goodness in you appears.

God is with you, in the deepest places, ask Him, knock, request His fellowship, whisper the name of Jesus and see the goodness, sweet and delicious filling your soul!  God bless your day, Dear One!

God is in the Details

I promise, there is nothing that matters to you that God doesn't see.  Even in the most minute thought or quiet longing, God cares.  Does anyone else know the number of hairs on your head?  Not even you.

Yesterday morning, in my flurry of responsibilities, I felt a check in my spirit.  Two huge garbage bags filled with clothes from five years' worth of Elias' wardrobe additions, void of subtractions until now, lay piled in the garage.  The one to whom we'd committed the items would arrive soon.  I poured through each piece thinking I was searching for an Australia T-shirt, a gift from one of Dennis' trips (that was not in the bags).  Slightly confused as to why I was even searching, I held up a nondescript navy Hanes top, which I knew had never been Elias'.  I was clueless as to the one who had owned this item.  Then the truth hit me.  I felt startled and pale at the idea that I'd almost parted with so precious an article of clothing.

When 9-year-old Salomé was three days old, her precious birthmother placed her beloved daughter into our arms amidst streams of tears flowing between us.  She tucked the T-shirt she'd been wearing around our newborn's tiny body, "To remember my smell, if she fusses." She said weakly.

Two years ago, I gave Salomé the shirt again.  She loved it and at first carried it everywhere, but swirled in her bedroom of dollies and delights, the simple shirt disappeared.  It must have meandered the house until it arrived with its most likely owner, Mr. Every Color as Long as it Matches Blue, Elias.

Sitting on the garage floor, I clutched the precious memory of Salomé's birthmother and thanked God for prompting my search.

Perhaps you think this is silly, I hope you don't, but I will happily explain something you may not have considered.  To an adopted child every sweet connection to their birthmother and heredity matters, if not while they are young, someday in the future it will.  Our identity unfolds in time, mixing sorrow and joy to build depth, compassion and love.  I believe our collected stories told over us and about us, are treasures beyond measure.  And just think, God stores our tears, our prayers, and our days in eternal memory, reminding us of what matters...trustworthy with every detail!

Walking on Water

The first moment I met Ezra, four years ago, she clung to Magdalene as she had since the day they left the orphanage.  Dennis, Gabriel and Magdalene had journeyed to Ethiopia to meet and bring home our two precious Ethiopian children.  Two and half year old Emmaus slept soundly in Dennis' arms in the airport.  Emmaus' five hours of screaming on the flight had exhausted him thoroughly.  Dennis wore the battle wounds of our new little boy's fears in the form of bloody teeth marks to his face.   I reached my hand to Magdalene's chin and tears began to stream down her cheeks.  "Being a Mommy is hard," she wept.

At fifteen monthes, Ezra could neither walk nor eat solid food.  Each time she was given something to eat or drink, she'd hold it in her mouth without swallowing, perhaps she percieved each mouthful would be her last.  Intially she'd sleep sixteen hours a day, until I realized she was sleeping her life away!

Within the first 30 days of our adoption my mother and I contracted Hepititus.  Suddenly, I lay sick in a dark room for the duration of two months.  Dennis and our three oldest children had to juggle everything, especially the difficult traits life in an orphange had forged.  Chaos took hold of our family, while close friends cared for as many of our needs as possible.

When Jesus' disciple Peter asked if he might also walk on water, Jesus answered, "Come!"  In the darkness of the night, over the tumultuous sea, Peter believed he could do the impossible, with Jesus' guidence.  I imagine Peter's strong character and trust as he stepped out of the boat onto the waves.  At first he did not waiver, but when he took his eyes off Jesus, fear of the powerful storm overwhelmed him and he sank!  He cried to the Lord to save him.  Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him, "You of little faith," he said, "why did you doubt?" (Matthew13:31 NIV)

What impossible thing are you facing, Beloved Friend?  Tough situations often look worse the more closely we examine them and we are seized by hopelessness.  In the midst of the dreams of our lives, we're struck by the pain of unexpected circumstances and things appear far different from what we had imagined or think we can handle.  Can this ever turn out well?  We ask ourselves.  But Jesus did not instantly calm the storm into which Peter walked.  Jesus met him there and brought him through it!

Look at our children and rejoice with me!  Be inspired Beloved!  As these siblings dance in puddles, in celebration of family, and the joy of childhood, remember the stuggles through which they have walked.  Impossibility did not win in their lives, nor should it rule in yours.  The God of miracles is at work transforming you, even through your hardship.  We have no idea of what his wonderful plans are! Step out with Him in trust for He is faithful, no matter how strong your storm appears. Take one step at a time, splash or leap with your eyes steady on Him.

 Zion, who stands in the center of this photo, always says,  "God is with you!"  And Zion knows!

My Baghdad Shoes

Bloody boots lie somewhere unseen, but the young American soldier in the hospital bed cannot hide from view.  He sleeps and may never awaken.

The Iraqi soldier's feet are bare when he arrives unconscious, his critically wounded body rests fitfully.

In the Baghdad Army Hospital, my physician husband stands between the beds of these two men, alert to the needs of each patient.  His staff struggles.  The American could be their brother, lover, or self, but the insurgent is the enemy.

Dennis answers their unspoken fear, "Here there are no sides, only wounded men, who love their countries, believe their religion, and deserve our best care.  Here we have one task.  We are the Samaritans.  We must care for these men equally, without judgement or preference."

At home, the children and I wait and pray for his safe return.  The stress is palpable, but normal life must proceed.  One day I buy shoes.  On the way home Gabriel, who is 12, asks gently if I meant to buy five pairs of shoes for myself.  I am stunned.  I did not.  A day later, I stack the boxes on the store counter.  I return home with one different box.  Are they the running shoes I need, to alleviate my worry?  No, they are beautiful stilettos in orange tweed.  I think of my Bosnian friend, from the year when Dennis was deployed to the Balkans.  She says what people do in war makes no sense and should be forgotten.
                                                         
                                                               *          *          *        

I still wear these shoes, a decade later and I have not forgotten the way my husband walked in his dusty boots in Baghdad.  He cared well for those entrusted to him, all children, created in God's image.  He wept and prayed over Americans and Iraqis.

Gabriel is 22 now.  In a day he will leave the Middle Eastern country in which he has been for four months.   Dennis leads the way, walking hard roads, and caring well for the faces before him.  It is my prayer that our eight children will walk in the footsteps of their dad.  I hope they will journey individually, but in the same way, respecting the dignity of men, no matter the path they choose, following the One who equips us to love our enemies.

Lifted

"First Step" is the title of this water color, painted by Deborah Robinson in 1995.  It is one in a series of the seven ethnicities of the Hawaiian Islands, originally commissioned for the Kapiolani Medical Center for Women and Children, from which copies were also purchased by a cruise line.  Elias and I had the privilege of representing the Caucasian ethnicity, interesting, since eventually our family would become its own diverse representation of the celebration of God's rainbow of children.

This morning as the sun shone into our bedroom I noticed something I've never seen before, in all these years.  Elias' little foot is lifted, and a white space exists between his heel and his shadow.  Isn't it fascinating how significant details often go unrecognized until the timing of a unique life event opens our eyes to them?

On Easter Sunday, one of our precious little sons, surrendered his life to Jesus.  He has known and loved God for as long as we can remember, but Sunday he realized it was his decision to ask the Lord for forgiveness and to take charge of his heart.  In humility and with joy he did this!  It is like his first step in his individual journey of walking with God, trusting Him to guide his life.  We asked him how he felt as we embraced him.  Smiling widely, he answered, "Lifted!"

100%

"I wish you were dead!" he yelled and ran from Olena, who stood silent and sad.  Since my struggle through hepatitis the first months after our Ethiopian adoption, 22 year-old Olena has worked with us four days a week, to help lighten the load and bless the household.  She is gentle, kind and loves the children well.  The words he yelled in her face, we'd never heard from any of the Littles, nor could we understand his outburst.

I directed the boy to 'my office', the bathroom, and sought an idea of natural consequences in my mind for his harshness.  He stood sturdy, with his feet rooted to the ground, his chin down and his lower lip pursed in what initially appeared to be stubbornness.  I leaned in to ask him what he had done, not why, as that introduces a string of excuses.  He pressed his chin down further, almost as if he were backing up, then came the flood, "I'm so sorry Mama...I didn't mean it...I don't want Olena to die!" He felt horrified at the gravity of his own words.  I reached for him, he buried his face in my shoulder and sobbed.  I did not discipline him.  We stepped out of the bathroom together and tearfully he asked forgiveness of Olena, which she gave without delay.

In our attempt to raise these Littles to love well, with selflessness, justice and compassion, they must understand mercy.  The combination of 'how' we live is this: 100% grace and 100% truth (the idea of this combo was first expressed by Pastor Jim Fleming).  On that afternoon, the child's own grief and sorrow over his sin was enough.  The lavish grace God pours over us as we seek his Truth must be reflected in our reactions to the most difficult situations our children and loved ones face.  There are times when the very best consequences are none, and I remember with humility, that this is the way Jesus ultimately loves me.

Our Cup

Good Morning!
Before the sun rises, and after my sweet husband has gone for the day, my coffee is my company.  In the darkness, I pray for everyone and everything that comes to mind, while I sip the bitter brew, wrapping my hands around my steaming cup.  Before my Littles awaken, can we talk about a very different cup from this porcelain one I hold?

In the Garden of Gethsemane Jesus said, in Mark 14:36 (NIV), "Abba, Father, everything is possible for you.  Take this cup from me.  Yet not what I will, but what you will."  These words struck me this Easter weekend as never before, as scripture often unfolds newly, with age of self and change of season.

Jesus spoke words based on his oneness with the Father and sinless heart of truth, "Everything is possible for you."  But God answered him in silence, or with the quiet no, that parents often whisper in the ear of their precious child, when they know better.  To His Father, who bases all His answers on Love, Jesus responded with obedience.  Jesus believed in Truth, offered his request, agreed with His Father's will, then he obeyed...in that order.

God can do all things, but sometimes his answer is no, even to Jesus.  Can I live this way, with unfailing belief in the impossibility, obeying the answer, no matter what it is, trusting God's will and not mine?  Yes.  Yes!  At the darkest moment of history, when the cup of sin (mine and all of mankind's), deepest suffering, excruciating sorrow and most hideous evil, was willingly accepted by our Savior, then today I can hold my cup, filled with even the hardest things I can imagine, and trust the outcome of ultimate good, because God is good.

Jesus' act of obedience is the very reason we can live in freedom from our own sin, forgiven through his sacrifice, blameless before our Holy God.  In my little life, the closer I get to God, the bigger He gets!  The outcome of God's 'no' to Jesus, was the 'yes' to salvation for me and you and all of us who surrender our lives to the Lover of our souls, Jesus Christ.  

God bless your day, I pray that you will have strength to walk in faith, trusting God, no matter what your cup may hold with Jesus guiding you.

Yesterday, six-year-old Zion said, "With Jesus, there's a party in my heart!"  Let that joy inspire us!