Anyone can draw

Inspired by the onboard education on the Disney Dream, we decided to turn some family nights into educational nights. Every Friday night is Family Night (and all are invited - just text first so we know to expect you) but last night was our first official Onboard Education Family Night.

Notice the fine print

Eden and HopeAnne decided to tackle a drawing class. Yes, the teachers need to tackle the task since we're quite the crew. Never a dull moment and lots of laughter.

They put up with us and persisted even when Tyree stole the water pitcher (presumably to fill his glass) just as Eden was to demonstrate the drawing of it.

Thanks to Mariana's growing collection of various, unique colored glass vases for the future wedding, we had instant still life. Pick your poison, people.

Victor had a lot of questions, struggled with the noise and laughter, but did his best to listen and draw his Coca-Cola cup to the best of his ability. He even drew a table line when Eden said we should add that important element.

Jesse was to evenly distribute the kneadable eraser but instead kept most of it for himself. Apparently he thought he was in the sculpture class and not the still life class.

We quickly discovered that some of us got all of the talent, a few got a little, and some got none. But it doesn't matter as that was not the point. No one can accuse us of boring dinner parties.

Everyone's favorite distraction, TJ!

She spreads hope

The timing was impeccable as God's timing always is.

After a discouraging weekend, a wild goose chase, and more questions than answers with one prodigal...

Pictures of a new baby from another.

And in response to, "Can we come visit?" An immediate, "Yes!"

For one whose mother is not, cannot, be in her life, another chance to speak life and encouragement. You can do this, Mama.

But the disparity is obvious. One who wanted a family her whole life but when she got it, feared every part of it, but in leaving and wandering, is still drawn to it, stands outside the door and wonders if it can really be hers.

One who has had a family from the beginning, is loved and loves in return, and who is learning to share that love with another. One who always wanted to meet and know more about her first family and since she has, she understands how important it is to know that you are loved, to be nurtured and raised in love, to connect and to attach. She loves well and she spreads hope.

A good reminder, in a time when people have a different definition of success than you, when they're looking for human success, immediate success, and not God's definition, that God is still in control, and every one of his children has a story, and none of those stories are over until they are over!

He pursues the one, leaving the 99, and He calls us to do the same. It's wearying, it's heartbreaking, and sometimes it just looks hopeless. We never give up because He doesn't give up on us.

We spread hope.

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.

Role models

In my prayers this morning I released "the one" to Jesus. He came from behind and put His arms around her and held her. She was smiling. They walked off together. I asked Him if she'd be okay. He told me that it would be a long road but someday she "will know".

But then He showed me a picture that was also part of Victor's story a few years ago. I saw a red carpet and it led to a very large stage. On that stage stood my family and Jesus holding a baby. Children started coming in from all sides to join us until there was quite a crowd on the stage. He said, "These are my children, Cindy. These are your children. You will show them my love. You will bring them to me. You will rescue them. It will be hard. You will get dirty. Your heart will hurt. I will be here. Have faith. Move mountains. Break chains. Be faithful. You need only be still. I will bring them to you. You will know. Trust me.... This wasn't just about loving "the one", this was also to prepare you..."

I love the stories of Corrie ten Boom. Her family chose to do the hard and hid Jews during the Holocaust. They knew the risk. But they also knew it mattered to each one. And they were caught. Corrie lost her dear sister and her father in the concentration camps. But after her release she was still able to say it was the right thing to do and to do the hard work of forgiving.

Jim Elliot is another person I like to read about. God gave him a heart for a remote tribe in Ecuador.  He and his family knew the risk and Jim, along with four other missionaries, were killed while trying to connect with the people. Later, several of the widows returned to live with the very same people who had killed their husbands.

And Mother Teresa. What beautiful stories there are of how she loved the outcast. She knew the risks of disease and dirt and poverty yet she chose to live among them every single day. So humble, so wise, so full of love, and so open to giving that love away.

Social media was not even an option for each of these people. But even if it had been, I'm pretty certain Corrie ten Boom wouldn't just have been writing thought-provoking Facebook posts telling others to join the movement to hide Jews from the Nazis while she and her family continued to move about freely in the community and earning a living in her father's shop. And I don't think Jim Elliot would simply have been sharing blog posts about how others should relate to violent people groups while he and his family were safe and secure living the American dream. Mother Teresa? I don't think she would have been fulfilled by just re-posting challenging memes about loving the poor, the sick, and the vulnerable while spending her days attending sermons and lectures in large cathedrals or churches. Instead, each of these individuals would have been doing. And not because they were trying to make a point or turn the attention to themselves but simply because they knew that it was what every Christian is called to do. And if they weren't on the ground serving "the one", they were on their knees with their Lord, intimately communing, finding refreshment for the needs of the day, getting their marching orders, asking for and receiving wisdom. If they had just talked and not been willing to sacrifice comfort, finances, and safety for "the one",  how many lives would never have known the love of another, the that comes from the love of a Savior? I guess their lives still could have influenced others, but it wouldn't have been a model of love and service, it would have simply been a model of talk. And we certainly don't need any more Christians who are all talk and no love.

Jesus was once asked to clarify which commandment was the greatest. He answered with not one, but two commandments and I think there's a reason they were paired together; it is impossible to do one without the other:

Teacher, what is the greatest commandment in the Law?

Jesus replied, "Love the Lord your God 

with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.

This is the first and greatest commandment.

And the second is like it:

Love your neighbor as yourself.

Matthew 22: 36 - 40

No, they wouldn't just have been writing about loving and serving, they would have been doing.

Pray for the one

I just finished packing up her bedroom. The beautiful, highlighter marker blue bedroom that a community helped to create. Everything that was given to her is all washed, folded, and safely stored. She came with one suitcase and a few things in a garbage bag. Waiting for her now are 3 suitcases full plus 3 smaller bags besides.  You loved well. We loved well.

Barring a miracle, she is choosing not to return. It breaks our hearts but we cannot force it; would not want to force it. Love can be given and light can be offered but there is always freedom to choose to accept and to someday, hopefully, reciprocate. For now, it's just too hard.

It doesn't mean that we have given up on her. Far from it. We cry for the 1 even when surrounded by the 99. We break for the vulnerable one, the one filled with fear and shame and who, for now, cannot see beyond the hurt.

The past couple of days I have not been able to shake the thought that I need to ask for more purposeful prayer. God has impressed upon me that she came on a Thursday and she left on a Thursday. Since I can't shake the thought, I have to think there is something significant there. I know what it's like when a prayer request is right in front of you. You remember it often. If you keep a written list, it's there. But time goes on, you forget, it gets buried in the list. We begin to wonder if the prayers matter. Let us not forget! For 16 years no one knew to pray, no one cared. But now we know and we can't forget. The love of the Father, that goes after the one, won't let us forget.

So, I have two ways for us to remember. The first is to declare Thursday the day to remember to pray for our one. If you let me know that you are committing to this task, then I will try to find a way to remind you every now and then.

The second is to pray when you hear Bethel Music's song, No Longer Slaves. There are songs that were part of the process of bringing HopeAnne, then Shoun and then Victor into our home. Whenever I hear those songs now, even 9 years later, my thoughts go right back to those moments of desperate trust. There are several that I heard while we were fighting the system, moving mountains, and breaking chains to show her what family and love look like, but No Longer Slaves is actually a memory someone else shared with me. One of the high school youth leaders shared with me how she saw our daughter singing the phrase, "I am a child of God," when this song was sung one Sunday night. Oh, how we pray that someday she will know her worth, that all her fears will be gone, that she will know love and family.

You unravel me, with a melody
You surround me with a song
Of deliverance, from my enemies
Till all my fears are gone

I’m no longer a slave to fear
I am a child of God

From my Mothers womb
You have chosen me
Love has called my name
I’ve been born again, into your family
Your blood flows through my veins

You split the sea, so I could walk right through it
All my fears were drowned in perfect love 
You rescued me, so I could stand and sing 
I am a child of God

Some people have told me that in tough times they don't want to hear that God has a purpose for the pain but I want you to remind me of that. Please tell me there is purpose! Without it, why love til it hurts? For me, there is hope in knowing that there is a plan much greater than my finite eyes can see.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. 1 Cor. 13: 12 - 13

Miracles still happen. We are called to care for the vulnerable. We are called to ask the God of the Universe and He will answer. In His time and His way, He will answer. Foster care is spiritual battle. Won't you join us in mobilizing the forces of Heaven?

Called

I've been thinking a lot about calling lately because sometimes living out your calling is really, really hard. And that's okay.

And that's what I've been thinking about.

When I read a book, I want a story about a character who does something, who accomplishes something, or makes a difference. But that story would not be very exciting if it didn't involve chaos, struggle, and the unknown. And the protagonist would not mature or change if he or she did not have to go through the struggle.

The same is true of our calling. It gives us purpose and it's how we make a difference in this world. But it always involves something beyond ourselves, something that forces us to lean on the One who called us. And when we step back and take a look, we can see that something new was born in us as well, an internal change that is necessary for the next steps we are called to take.

The fight was hard. The struggle was intense and the wait seemed long. It's still hard. But God does not waste the wait or the fight or the struggle.

A good friend suggested we find a project for the wait to show that we were fighting hard. We took pictures along the way and sent them along so she could see the progress and know we were working to bring her home.

Since blue and flowers are favorites, we incorporated both, drawing our own flowered designs on some of the patches.

And then the mountains moved even before we expected and she was here before the project was finished but no one was complaining.

In the end, the project was just as much for us as it was for her. A little bit of ourselves to welcome a new family member, to show we cared, to say, "You matter."

But something else was very close to my heart during this process, a reminder that was right there always threatening to bubble over in emotion and that was this: What about the ones who have no one to fight for them? So many hurting people in our world. A few have someone to care, someone to fight for them. But how many others do not? But if we each lived out our calling, would there be someone to fight for each of the others? I think so because it matters to this one, and that one, that one, and each and every one.

For whom are you called to fight? To be a voice? To make a difference?