Oct. 31

He was waiting all day!

Every time someone mentioned dressing up he would start to shake and say, "I'm so excited! I've got the wiggles."

She's Hope and Joy.

A special trick-or-treat visit with Ms. Sally, Victor's teacher of the visually impaired. They make a great pair.

The best birthday present ever

Okay, it was a day early but....

Last spring I was approached about writing a whole-church curriculum focused on mission. I surprised even myself with a pretty quick, "Would I? Absolutely!"

This is my passion; seeing people live like Jesus. It was Francis Chan and his challenges in Crazy Love that changed my life from a comfort-seeking American Christian to one who desires to be a radical, self-sacrificing, comfort-giving Jesus follower. So yes, I would love to be part of anything that challenges others to do the same.

To be honest, we started out looking at existing books and resources but since I couldn't narrow it down to just one, and would have to write study materials to accompany them anyway, we settled on me writing it from scratch.

But it wasn't completely from scratch. It all started from years and years of notes and videos and speakers and books and Bible studies led, and most importantly, insights from Scripture. Since the Good Doctor had already set aside 4 days in April for me to spend time alone at the beach, I decided it was as good a time as any to put thoughts on paper.

God had a better plan, however, and added the proverbial cherry on top when, after 4 mornings devoted entirely to writing, the whole small group curriculum was complete. Complete, not just started. The words just came. Seven small group sessions with accompanying power point, done. Truly Holy Spirit driven. My usual angst and Satan's typical darts - nowhere to be found. None-existent. A safe space, my happy place, and my God.

Upon returning home, the Good Doctor found several Mondays when I could write. Since Monday is his day off, he stayed home with the kids while I holed up in his office and wrote. Four Mondays later there were thirty days of devotionals for the Participant's Guide - done. Completely.

Three editors agreed to read through everything - a theologian, an educator, and an English major - and by mid-July the whole project was complete: a 7 week small group curriculum, 6 weeks of devotionals, and 6 weeks of sermons - all centered on the theme of His Story, My Story, Our Story: Living Like Jesus.

It was introduced by the end of the summer and we started in September. And the Holy Spirit moved. Mightily. The stories of individual stirrings, of intimacy deepened, of decisions to love like Jesus, of lives devoted to live like Jesus, these were the reasons it was written and each testimony brought joy to my soul.

And this week, "the book" was signed by every person who desires to live like Jesus, each individual who doesn't want this study to be just a good idea but who wants it to be life changing. This book stood in the lobby as a symbol of our topic for the past several months. Today, it was joked that we were going to have a book signing, that I was going to have a book signing. But it wasn't me. I was asked to join the Good Doctor in standing with the book, to encourage those who came up to sign. But I couldn't speak. I was overcome with emotion. Joy. Pure joy. To see some of my children come forward to sign the book. To see friends whose stories include great adversity, brokenness, and healing and now embracing their roles with grace and mercy. To see friends whose stories are intertwined with our family's stories. To see friends who are struggling to accept their stories and claim their role in God's story. To see every age represented. To see the line just keep coming and coming and coming. And to hear one of my favorite hymns being sung in the background, "Take My Life..." This was why God wanted the curriculum written. This was why He gave the words so quickly and easily. This is why it was written - so that every single person can go out and love deeply and sacrificially. So that together we can be uncomfortable so that others can be comfortable. So that collectively we can impact that Kingdom for Christ.

I imagine Jesus was standing there, too. This isn't my book. This isn't my curriculum. It's His. It's His story. All His. I know this is true because some days as I read the devotional to HopeAnne, I think, "I wrote that? I don't remember writing that." I get one little part in His grand story. I want to live my story well. I want you to live yours, too.

And my Jesus smiled.

A brownie and a pen

For those who are following along in the His Story, My Story, Our Story series,

here I give you... 

the rest of the story...

Someday I'm going to write a book (Shhh! Don't tell the Good Doctor, he's such a nag about this.) and I'm going to call it, "My Jesus Smiles."

Too many of us have the wrong picture of God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit. Our finite minds can't wrap ourselves around the complexity of 3-in-1 and an all-powerful, all-knowing God who loves us despite our constant failures. So we fill in the gaps with our own small and inaccurate image of each aspect of God.

For me, this means I often forget that not only has He been there for me in the past, He will be there for me in the future. When He said, "Fear not" He meant it. When he said he would send blessing, He meant it. So to teach me this truth, I've found that He often ends each story of fear or would-be fear with an extra blessing, the holy kiss you might say. I find that if I can remember these situations from the past, I will handle new situations with faith rather than fear, waiting with expectation to not only see how God provides, but to find the cherry He puts on top as well.

We once had a foster child who was a run-away. Children and Youth gave her this label before she had even come into our care. She had already run away from at least one foster home and had managed to break free from a caseworker while being dropped off for a special life skills program. So before she even came into our home we were mandated to purchase door and window alarms. It was kind of silly, really, since they were easily disarmed and had she actually tried to sneak out through those outlets, she could easily have done so unnoticed. But we were at least compliant. And they provided many laughs when, on multiple evenings, the Good Doctor would go around setting each alarm only to forget that he had done so while making one more trip into the laundry room where the alarm would remind him of his mistake. At least I knew he would never successfully make a run for it through the laundry room and out the garage!

Thrown into parenting a child unlike any we had parented before, we quickly became experts at recognizing the tell-tale signs that an escape plan was being put into place. One Sunday morning when the Good Doctor was scheduled to preach, she refused to leave her room for church. My run-away radar was immediately alerted and I suspected that was her reason for wanting to be left behind. I'm pretty sure God chose a Sunday where I had no choice but to solve this as a single parent; it was impossible to rely on my husband. I didn't even want to let him know what was going on so he wouldn't be distracted during the morning.

I instructed the children that we were going to leave quietly for church so that hopefully she wouldn't know we were gone. I didn't want her to leave before I came back. I prayed. I put something in front of every main door and we left through one I thought she wouldn't use. This way I would know if she had run-away while I was gone. I drove the children to church and signed them into their classes as quickly as possible and then returned home. I was pretty certain she was still home since my plan had seemed to work, although I still wasn't hearing any noise from her room and she wasn't answering when I called.

I sat in my living room knowing she would have to walk through there no matter which door she chose and if she crawled out the window below, I'd hear her. I put my Bible on my lap and prayed. I asked God to tell me what to do.  I wanted to call the police, to have them sitting outside my home when she came upstairs to run. But something stopped me. I came to understand that if the police were here, she wouldn't be able to run but that would be a definite relationship breaker. The goal was always to build, not break, the tenuous relationship we had with her. I was thinking clearly enough to grab a pen so if there was an accomplice I could write down the license plate number. Now I sat in my chair with my Bible and a pen and I asked God again to give me wisdom for the next step.

And He said, "Get a brownie."

"Excuse me, God?"

"Get a brownie."

"But that doesn't make any sense. Who is it for? Why?"

"Stop asking questions and get a brownie."

Well, I could't tell God that I didn't have any brownies because He knew there were some in the freezer so I went and got a brownie.

Now I sat in my chair with my Bible, a pen, and a brownie. Okay, God, now what?

"Look at her Facebook page."

"That's silly, God. She doesn't have any devices in her room. She can't possibly be on Facebook."

But the feeling was strong, "Look at her Facebook page."

"Fine. I'll look at her Facebook page but I won't find anything because I'm telling you that she doesn't have any devices with her!"

But she did. Apparently she had exited her room while I was gone and had found the one and only device in the house which also happened to be the one and only device in the house that was not password protected. She must have been desperate as she had gone up two flights of steps to find that device. Not only was she on Facebook but by logging into her account I could see that she had contacted someone to "scoop her". I knew it was a male but that's all I knew. I didn't know how old he was or what kind of vehicle he'd be bringing, or even if he'd come with weapons (I watch too much Law and Order).

I prayed fervently while watching the conversation unfold and then I saw him write, "Leaving now." I didn't know how far away he was but figured I had anywhere from 15 - 30 minutes before he arrived. "God," I prayed, "this rule-following first-born from the suburbs is so out of her league with this hurting and abused street-wise teen from the city. I don't know who is coming or what this is going to look like when he gets here. I need you and I need you now."

And then that non-audible voice again, "Pull the plug on the internet."

Aha. Why didn't I think of that? She might know he's coming but she'll have no way of knowing when he gets here. So I did just that.

And then she came up the steps, backpack on, and without speaking, walked right by me, out the front door, and plopped herself down on the front steps.  I took my pen and my brownie and sat myself down right next to her.

"So, what kind of car are we looking for?"

Silence. So I decided to fill the silence with every word of truth, every statement of love that came to my mind. Verbal vomit. But with a goal. If she leaves, let the last words she hears be words of love and truth.

And then a VW bug rounded the corner.

"Is this the car we're looking for?????"

She looked as confused as I. But she must have recognized the driver because she headed straight for the passenger door. I headed straight for the license plate and wrote the number on my hand.  And then the driver stuck his head out of his window, "Hey, I thought you said you were allowed to come with me?" She didn't answer so I answered for her, "No, she's running away and does not have permission to do so." He looked scared so engaged him in polite conversation, asking for his name and moving on to his career aspirations.

"Ma'am, I want to go into the military and maybe join the police force."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" I responded, "then you probably don't want a police record do you?"

"No, ma'am."

"No problem. Don't take her away and you won't have anything to worry about here. Oh, and by the way, here's a brownie. It's for you."

Now he was really surprised. But he wasn't driving away. In fact, he turned to the passenger he no longer wanted in his car and started talking about his own life, "Did you know that I was in foster care?" She looked surprised. "Yeah, my mom kept kicking me out of the house and the cops would find me and bring me home and tell her that she couldn't do that. She'd take me back in but then she'd kick me out again. I went into foster care but now I live with my aunt." More silence. He continued, "You don't like rules do you? I didn't like them, either. My aunt has rules. I didn't like them at first but then I realized that they were for my own good. I started going to school and getting good grades. I'm going to graduate next year. And because my aunt trusts me? She lets me drive her car."

Now he was getting somewhere. She wasn't speaking but she was paying attention.

At this point it seemed silly for all of us to be having this conversation in the middle of the road so I said, "Do you want to come in? Why don't we go inside and chat?" Again, he looked shocked. I could see his wheels turning, This lady just met me, I was going to scoop her daughter, but she gave me a brownie and now she's inviting me into her house? He thought about it for a minute and then agreed. He pulled the car into the driveway and convinced the would-be run-away to join him in the house. They sat in the living room where he talked truth and sense about life and rules; many of the same things we had told her in the short time she had lived with us. But he had credibility. He was from her neighborhood. He had lived a similar story. I pretended to wash dishes in the kitchen, quietly so as to hear the conversation in the other room while they talked.

Two hours later, the Good Doctor arrived home to find our foster daughter amiably chatting with a strange young man in the living room while I still stood at the sink in the kitchen. The only thing he knew was a quick text I had sent to say that we had a potential run-away and that he would need to bring the children home from church. I later shared with him the story of how this young man showed up and not only did he quickly refuse to drive the get-away car (held off with just a brownie and a pen) but he stuck around to share his own story with our daughter.  His story of being in foster care himself was one that she could relate to and while she wasn't yet at the place of acceptance that he was, she listened to his tale of learning to trust and to listen to people who truly cared about him. He told of turning his life around and having goals for his future.

And I told the Good Doctor what I had learned as well. Once again, I learned that we have no reason to fear. As I had listened to the young man talking, I imagined Jesus standing next to me saying, "Remember all those times the Bible says to 'Fear not'? I mean it. You don't have to fear. She didn't run away. And I gave you an even greater gift, a special friend to speak truth into her life. Remember this in the future. There's no need to fear. Nothing catches me by surprise. Nothing."

Faith is built over time, by seeing Jesus show up, do the miraculous, and then add one more blessing just because He loves us and wants us to remember His promises.

And my Jesus smiles.

Pumpkin carving

I can pull it myself!

It's that time of year again. It's always fun to choose pumpkins together, find a unique idea for carving (well, for some of us), and then sit around and pull guts out of pumpkins.

And I'd say it was a successful year.

Victor selected his own pumpkin. You can have any pumpkin that you can carry. Sometimes you have to give up and pick a smaller one.


He chose circle eyes, a rectangle mouth, and a huge smile.

They do bear a slight resemblance, don't they? It's the smile. Definitely the smile.

He even touched a few guts in the process (but was more interested in pouring them from one bowl into another).

We even had participation from everyone. Effort, no, but participation, yes. Polite, non-complaining participation.

The look

In the past week or so I've been reviewing my notes for an up-coming speaking engagement. The topic I was given? Loving each of our children through their differences.

It's had me thinking back to when the older children were little. What were their personalities then? What aspects of their personalities were difficult to parent? Easier to parent? Are there remnants of those qualities today? Which ones? Are there any surprises in their adult personalities? Anything I easily would have predicted? Anything that frustrated me in the younger years but which is perfect for who the child has become?

And since Jesse turns 21 today, we'll just park on Jesse for a moment.

He recently started collecting snapshots of himself with "the look".

The look that said, "I'm the middle child."

(At least for now...)

Or maybe it was, "Don't you wish you knew what I'm plotting right now?"

Or just maybe it was, "Wait til you get these photos developed and see how I added character to your photo."

Whatever it was, Jesse has always been our middle child. When I was pregnant with our third child, our doctor (who saw 4 generations of our family) commented, "Well, that one knew he was going to be the middle child before you knew he was going to be a middle child."

Pretty smart man.

And we loved that twinkle, that mischievous look.

Most days.

Some days, however, that need to be the center of attention, to have fun, caused grief and embarrassment when other adults in his life called out the negative behaviors that distracted their classes. And the anger that exploded so quickly with his siblings...

But today, that need to have fun will do him well as a middle school teacher. It serves him well in middle school and high school ministry, giving him the ability to connect.

Happy 21st birthday, Jesse! Don't ever lose "the look"! God put it there, it's who you are, and you wouldn't be you without it.

Redemption wins

There's no pretty school today. Fall break. It's only noon and already I've been slapped twice, hard, on the back (the back that still suffers from the effects of another child's trauma), bear the signs of multiple scratchings on my arms and legs (I guess it's time to put the capris and short sleeves away in favor of longer pants and sleeves), have a bite mark on my hand, had forks and toys thrown at me, and yelled at enough to decrease my hearing. Why? Well, let's see, because I asked him to stop banging the silverware on the steps, the MP3 player needed charging, the chair wasn't in the right place, I asked him to use the potty, the drawer of my sewing table is fake and won't open, he spilled his water when trying to pour from one cup to the other, I won't let him use cleaning supplies, I asked him to wear underwear ..... It really doesn't matter. If he's upset, he's likely to become dysregulated, and I make a good target.

It's days like this when I say enough! I'm done. I can't do this anymore. Parenting trauma is too hard. Loving is too exhausting and painful.

But that's not an option. When we said yes to kids from hard places, we said yes to every single one of their coping mechanisms, all of their trauma-based behaviors, each and every fight, flight, or freeze response. Kind of like marriage - for better or worse.

Some days are better. Some days are worse. So I take a break and separate myself to pray. To claim that promise that this child would be victorious. He WILL be victorious.

And just when I think I can't take anymore he brings me his Braille alphabet book and sweetly tells me he found the letter U and the umbrella. He invites me into his space. So I will go.

But I will go with prayers for all of my friends doing hard things. Stepping into the darkness with people. Holding hands with the weary, grieving, broken. Allowing ourselves to be uncomfortable so others can be comfortable. So others can heal.

Where redemption wins.

Worn

Tenth Avenue North

I'm tired
I'm worn
My heart is heavy
From the work it takes to keep on breathing

I've made mistakes
I've let my hope fail
My soul feels crushed
By the weight of this world
And I know that you can give me rest
So I cry out with all that I have left

Let me see redemption win
Let me know the struggle ends
That you can mend a heart that's frail and torn

I want to know a song can rise
From the ashes of a broken life
And all that's dead inside can be reborn
'Cause I'm worn

I know I need
To lift my eyes up
But I'm too weak
Life just won't let up
And I know that You can give me rest
So I cry out with all that I have left

Let me see redemption win
Let me know the struggle ends
That you can mend a heart that's frail and torn

I want to know a song can rise
From the ashes of a broken life
And all that's dead inside can be reborn
Cause I'm worn

And my prayers are wearing thin
I'm worn even before the day begins
I'm worn I've lost my will to fight
I'm worn so heaven so come and flood my eyes

Let me see redemption win
Let me know the struggle ends
That you can mend a heart that's frail and torn

I want to know a song can rise
From the ashes of a broken life
And all that's dead inside can be reborn
Yes all that's dead inside will be reborn
Though I'm worn
Yeah I'm worn

Birthday day

Another Oct. 9. Another birthday. I still remember the first day we met you. It was the same day we realized that you and Eden share a birthday. It went down on the list of confirmations that you were meant to be part of our family. The list is long. God is good.

It's been a year of growth, of changes, of maturity. A year to become. A year of decisions. A year of growing up. Another year of deliverance and of redemption. A year of finding you.

Thank you for your perseverance, for never giving up. Thank you for loving your siblings and standing by your friends.

Happy birthday! Enjoy the day (and the day off from school)!

So go ahead and live like you're loved

It's ok to act like you've been set free

His love has made you more than enough

So go ahead and be who he made you to be

-Live Like You're Loved, Hawk Nelson

A garden full of joy

When you and your brother share the same birthday, albeit 4 years apart, one of you gets to celebrate a day early. This year it's your turn to go first and we actually celebrated yesterday since today will be busy.

The word that comes to mind when I think about your past year is worship. I love how you live a life of worship even as you move from a tween-ager to a teen-ager. You are a blessing to me and to many others. You know how to connect with kids with special needs, especially your little brother. You see the needs in the communities around you and you want to make a difference. You think outside the box when we talk about social justice issues. You see trauma for what it is and can love through the chaos without taking on the chaos yourself. And you do this all through Heaven's eyes. You are going to be a world changer.

I love to hear you at the piano, worshipping with your voice and fingers. And it's never about you.

Thank you, Eden Joy, for the garden full of joy you bring to our home!

And happy birthday - whatever day you celebrate!

To market...to market...

This month's family activity was a trip to Saturday's Market, a flea/farm market. The children were allowed to invite a friend, 'cause, why not? The more the merrier. Mariana was in the area and joined us, too, with friend in tow. We divided them into groups according to who gets along with who and who can police themselves without getting into trouble. Worked like a charm. At least, we think.

Each team had a certain amount of money to spend on a snack for themselves while there and also money to buy contributions to supper at home. Since I had assumed (correctly) that everyone would purchase dessert items, I had chicken in the crock-pot at home. The Good Doctor and I also used our allotment to add some more carnivorous choices to the mix. It was still the most unhealthy meal we've ever had but worth it.

For dessert we enjoyed sticky buns, pumpkin roll, chocolate pie, and the largest assortment of Amish made whoopee pies you'd ever find (I think three different teams each bought the latter).

Group games kept us busy til supper time and we learned a little more about each of us.

Thank yous were heard from most so we call it a win. Some people don't want to be pleased and it's not worth wearing yourself out trying. You can only do so much.

Til next month...