Category: General

Moments of Renewal

I can’t help but think about the Lord making all things new. What does that mean, really? How does that translate into our own lives?

This is what I have discovered, and in some ways, continue to discover on a daily basis.

Our relationships are renewed day in and day out.

New friendships are formed, old friendships are re-ignited, and hardened friendships are mended.

Each day starts just like the days passed. The sun rises, the tasks are at hand, and we are given the unique opportunity to foster hope into the lives of others.

In my personal life, I feel as though the Lord has refreshed and made anew so many things lately.  Watching my oldest children meander their ways in their elementary school years has been a little nerve-wracking, yet refreshing.

Discovering the world through the eyes of a two-year-old is such a gift. I forget, sometimes, just how incredible creation is until I am able to witness it through the eyes of a toddler. He is such a gift to us.

And then, the relationship with my husband seems to be renewed daily.  Despite the grind of raising children, demands of work, and staying afloat in a world that seems to be sinking, I find myself loving and appreciating the husband, father, and person he is more and more each day. This is also a gift.

In these moments of renewal, I think back to barrenness. I think back to those days where the only thing in sight seemed to be desolation.

In these moments of renewal, I also think about the promises of the Lord. I revel in the fact that Scripture is relevant and alive today in my life, and in yours.

I can’t help but think about the Lord making all things new.  What does that mean, really?  How does that translate into our own lives?

This is how it translates in mine. Each day I am given a new opportunity to…

forget the past…

look forward in hope to a new thing…

embrace what is springing up…

and treasure the gifts of this life.

Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.
– Isaiah 43:18-19

a broken jar of clay

While studying the story of Hannah for a project I’m working on, I became a little emotional thinking of her. In some respects, I found myself yearning to be sitting next to her while she cried out to the Lord in her anguish over being barren.

I wanted to put my arm around her, comfort her, and tell her that everything was going to be okay.  Although it may sound odd, I felt a kindred connection to her. Tears flowed from my eyes in reading of her and picturing her during her time of need.

Hannah, a broken jar of clay, sought out the Lord in her greatest need.

She didn’t stray from it.

She didn’t make excuses for it.

She declared it.

I felt an overwhelming sense of joy for Hannah, and the gift of a son, Samuel, that she was given. Her story, her life, and her prayers, are so relevant in this world.

I had the realization that Hannah’s story has been told and read through generations and generations of women throughout the world. The power of one woman and her desperation to be a mother has given hope to so many….countless upon countless women….including me….another broken jar of clay.

This one woman, full of anguish over her barrenness, sought the Lord, trusted Him, and never gave up.  Hannah lived many, many years ago; yet, her life and her story continue to resonate in this very time.

Hannah, a broken jar of clay, sought out the Lord in her greatest need.

She didn’t stray from it.

She didn’t make excuses for it.

She declared it.

Are you full of anguish?  Are you in need of answered prayer, a glimmer of hope, and life beyond the sadness to which you dwell?  Are you a broken jar of clay?

Seek out the Lord in your greatest need.  Do not stray from it.  Do not make excuses for it.  Declare it.

Declare the Lord.

Hannah was praying in her heart, and her lips were moving but her voice was not heard. Eli thought she was drunk, and said to her, “How long are you going to stay drunk? Put away your wine.” “Not so, my lord,” Hannah replied, “I am a woman who is deeply troubled. I have not been drinking wine or beer; I was pouring out my soul to the LORD. Do not take your servant for a wicked woman; I have been praying here out of my great anguish and grief.”
-1 Samuel 1:13-15

Thank you, Lord, for blessing Hannah in her greatest need. Thank you for her, for her life, and for her example for all of the “Hannah’s” in the world.

ReMoved (film that is a must-see)

I was approached by the writers/filmmakers of the incredible short film, ReMoved, to promote their Kickstarter campaign for their follow-up film, ReMoved, part two.  My first thoughts were, “OF COURSE!”

As a professional who has been in child welfare for the past thirteen years, and as a mother through foster care/adoption, I absolutely feel that there is an incredible need to stand up for the cause of foster children.

If you missed it, here is the original film titled “ReMoved”.  I urge you to watch it.  The first time I watched it, I was greatly moved by it.  I thought about the kiddos I have worked with in years gone by.  In some respects, I thought about my own children…

“What if they were left to grow up in the midst of chaos?”

“What would have happened to them if we did not choose to adopt them?”

The writers/filmmakers are making a second film that tells more of the story of the girl to whom your tears may have flowed for in the original video.  It also explores the relationships with case workers, foster parents, and birth parents.

Here is the link to their Kickstarter campaign.  Visit it.  Support it.  Pray for it.  Get involved.

Kickstarter campaign:  www.removedfilm.com

Walk Boldly Through It

If we could speak our own future into existence, know every nook and cranny of our lives, and look ahead with the knowledge of what is to come, then where would faith be in our lives?

At times, I often thought, “I sure wish I knew where this is going, what is going to happen, and what is going to come next.”

If we knew how our futures will unfold, where would faith be in our lives? Why would we rely on our Heavenly Father to reveal things to us in His timing?

Where would God be in our lives?

Dear friends, the future may not seem clear to you. You may just see a blank space, a repeat of the same routine day after day, or a hopeless void of what may not happen.

However, God knows your future.

He knows where you will lay your head. He knows where your feet will walk. He knows the colors of the canvass that will paint your life. And, He knows the void that is in need of being filled.

If we knew how our futures will unfold, where would faith be in our lives?

Have faith. Trust God. Walk in the assurance of His grace, and live your life.

You are only given one life on this Earth.

Live it.

Love it.

Walk boldly through it.

2 Corinthians 5-7: Now the one who has fashioned us for this very purpose is God, who has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come. Therefore we are always confident and know that as long as we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord. For we live by faith, not by sight.

Happy Eighth Birthday, Baby

Today is my oldest son’s eighth birthday. Tomorrow, we will celebrate with a gaggle of hyper boys, cake, presents, and fun. Today, though, we spent time as a family.

On each of my children’s birthdays, I always escape back to where I was when they took their first breath of Earthly air.8thbday

For two of my kiddos, I had no idea they were even born into the world until those fateful calls from social workers. I did not meet my son until two days after he was born. I met my daughter about seven weeks after her birth. I knew of the birth of my little one, but I was not present for it.

Do you want to know something? While I have had moments when I wished that I was there to hold them the minute they entered this world, I do not regret our experience. It was an arduous path filled with sorrow, and marked with lots of waiting, praying, and clinging on to that space filled with hope, but it is one that I would walk again if I had to.

Being foster and adoptive parents completed us. It made us so incredibly aware of our own faults, our blessings, our trials in life, and just how rich our lives actually are.

I would not trade our experience for anything in the world.

Today is my son’s eighth birthday. Today, I thought of his birth mother. I thought of the moment I first saw him. I thought of years that have come and gone, and I thought of the years ahead.

I love my son. I love him with every single ounce of my existence. I love him despite my own flaws, his quirks, and our faults left somewhere in between.

8th selfie
Happy Eighth Birthday, Baby. You are such a gift to our lives. You have colored our world with more than we could ever ask for. You are an incredible God-given treasure.

We love you forever.

Children are a gift from the Lord; they are a reward from him.  -Psalm 127:3

Ever have one of those days? {hope in the promise of Christ}

Ever have one of those days or nights where you wonder, even wish, that the Lord would return? Do you ever feel a longing as if your soul is wanting to settle into the Home to which it belongs?

I’ve been feeling that longing lately. I’ve been doing my duties on Earth, but with thoughts of a life Eternal with my Savior. There have been times during the days when I know I’m not ready for His return, and yet, there are moments when I’m practically begging for His return.

I recently went to a Hillsong Worship service.  Normally, maybe I would call it a concert, but it was far from one.  Yes, the band was welcomed by admiring fans, but the shouts of joy, clapping, and praise were all for Jesus.  It was not a concert. It was a worship service.  A multitude of fellow believers were packed into a church with ears, eyes, and hearts settled upon worshiping the Lord. It was beautiful. It was inspiring. It was incredible to be a part of.

I felt the Lord’s presence during that evening. I felt the love of His church, the desire to draw closer to Him, and the gentle reminder of His presence in all of our lives.

The next day, I got up and felt sadness. I wanted to go back to the night before when hands were raised, hearts were open, and God was present. I even thought, “If that is a taste of Heaven, then I can’t wait to be there.”

Several days out, I’m still thinking back to that night of worship. I look at the heavens and wonder, “Where you are You, Lord? When will You come?”

And then, I am reminded that it is all in His timing, not ours. There are far too many who are not ready for His return. Perhaps, my own heart has some mending to do.

So, for today, I will hang on to the joy found in the treasure of a relationship with Christ. I will sing songs. I will speak His love to my children. I will lift others up, and I will pray for my own deficits that do nothing for the Kingdom of God.

Friends, hang on to that joy found in your relationship with Christ. Cherish those moments of worship where you feel His touch in your lives.

Pray for our world, our children, and our enemies. Pray for our friends, our family members, and our neighbors.

Pray for those to whom you would otherwise turn away from.

Pray for opportunities to show the love of Jesus to others. Pray for moments that will draw others closer to Him, and in turn, will draw you closer as well.

Ever have one of those days or nights where you wonder, even wish, that the Lord would return? Do you ever feel a longing as if your soul wants to settle into the Home to which it belongs?

Me too, sweet friend, me too. And for this reason, I cling on to the hope of a future found in the promise of Christ.

Dear Parent of a Sick Child {letter #4}

Dear Parent of a Sick Child,

You are lonely, aren’t you?  You have spent many days surrounded by people who care, but there are moments when you feel like the loneliest person on Earth. Although you have had your share of visitors, kind words, gentle sentiments of encouragement through the written word, and comforting touches, you still feel like a small island in this vast ocean of life.

You continue to walk around…

an isolated warrior…

a weary soldier…

a desperate mother…

a lion-hearted father…

in a battle not of your own making.

You hear about and see all moms and dads with their babies enjoying the sun of the summer, traversing through the seasons, and experiencing a life enriched with joy, milestones, and celebrations.  Yet, there you sit.

Waiting.

Waiting hand-in-hand with your child who has barely been awake the past few days.

You visualize her running in the sun of the summer.  You think about the future, and what is to come.  You dream of the milestones, the intricate details of development, and the celebrations you have been able to plan.

You beg for a life beyond all of this.

You yearn for a life farther away from sickness.

You desire never to visit this place again.

You stare at her.  You wonder, “Will she ever wake up again?  Will she ever experience a life outside of these sterile walls, and the beeps of these machines?”  In these moments, your own vision of parenthood, and your dreams of it, seem to evaporate.

You think, “Will I ever wake up to MY child… my child before this illness?  Will I ever see her energy, her enthusiasm for life, and her humor again?  Will this silence ever stop?  Where is our life…our life before all of this?”

Dear Parent of a Sick Child,

Your continual stance in the deep hours of the night mean so much to your sick child.  Your gentle grasp, your words of comfort, and your whispering of hope for life beyond this affliction, carry weight.

All of these things have a gravity of their own.  They are not measured in the physical lineage of this world.  Instead, they are mounted upon that seemingly invisible wave of fortitude that courses through your body.

You have the moxie to show this wayward season in your life that it is just that…a season…a temporary stay…a time that will not define your child, your parenthood, and your character.

With each glimpse of life outside of illness, you are anchoring your child and your own parenting experience to the hope of the future.

Hang on to that anchor.

Throw it onto land.

Proclaim it.

Set your vision on the shore of healing, and the life that is in sight.

Dear Parent of a Sick Child,

You are lonely, aren’t you?  You wonder about life beyond this sickness.  You remember those precious moments before this sadness entered your life.  You cherish with anticipation the visions of your child playing in the wonders of the world, dancing in the rain, experiencing a first crush, crying over a broken heart, going on a first date, graduating from school, and eventually, marrying the one who stole her heart.

You dream of your child launching herself into this world so that it can catch a bit of her radiance.

To be honest, I do not know what you are going through.  My children…my babies…are all seemingly healthy.  I know this can turn on a dime. From my own experience, I have learned that life is fragile.  One day, things seem okay.  The next, you are side-swiped by a diagnosis.

I hope, and pray, and give my own energy to the promise that my children will never experience the life-altering, nearly fatal, and forever-changing illness that I survived as a child.

I do not write from a point of complete understanding of what you are going through.  Instead, I simply write from the vision of what my parents must have felt while watching me fight for life during the eleventh year of my walk on this Earth.  I also write from the words that have come from their own mouths, and the mouths of observers when escaping back to that fateful time in my own life.

I write letters in retrospect.  I write in remembrance of their bravery, their quiet, yet strong presence, and their gentle proclamations that I would beat the hostile intruder that made its way to my life.

Dear Parent of a Sick Child,

I know you feel lonely.  I know you get tired of seeing the blessings of life that are happening around you.  You must get angry.  You must feel a twinge of jealousy.

You cry out to God in your anger, and in your weakness.

Please know that while you are feeling helpless, and maybe even insignificant, in this big world of unknowns, your presence is perhaps the largest and most beautiful sight in your sick child’s eyes.  Your own sense of loneliness is not seen by your child.

Instead, your nearness to the illness, and your child, has helped to underwrite the story of hope, and the melody of compassion that your child hears, and may even dance to in the future.

Continue to be there.  Continue to be that hand that can be held in the darkest of hours, the agonizing moments of pain, and the stillness of the day.

Stay strong, parent of a sick child.  Stay courageous.  Stay hopeful.

Stay.

Although you may feel like the loneliest person on Earth, your presence is a pillar of gladness that helps your child.

Together, you are not alone.

Dear Parent of a Sick Child {letter #4}

Dear Parent of a Sick Child,

You are lonely, aren’t you?  You have spent many days surrounded by people who care, but there are moments when you feel like the loneliest person on Earth. Although you have had your share of visitors, kind words, gentle sentiments of encouragement through the written word, and comforting touches, you still feel like a small island in this vast ocean of life.

You continue to walk around…

an isolated warrior…

a weary soldier…

a desperate mother…

a lion-hearted father…

in a battle not of your own making.

You hear about and see all moms and dads with their babies enjoying the sun of the summer, traversing through the seasons, and experiencing a life enriched with joy, milestones, and celebrations.  Yet, there you sit.

Waiting.

Waiting hand-in-hand with your child who has barely been awake the past few days.

You visualize her running in the sun of the summer.  You think about the future, and what is to come.  You dream of the milestones, the intricate details of development, and the celebrations you have been able to plan.

You beg for a life beyond all of this.

You yearn for a life farther away from sickness.

You desire never to visit this place again.

You stare at her.  You wonder, “Will she ever wake up again?  Will she ever experience a life outside of these sterile walls, and the beeps of these machines?”  In these moments, your own vision of parenthood, and your dreams of it, seem to evaporate.

You think, “Will I ever wake up to MY child… my child before this illness?  Will I ever see her energy, her enthusiasm for life, and her humor again?  Will this silence ever stop?  Where is our life…our life before all of this?”

Dear Parent of a Sick Child,

Your continual stance in the deep hours of the night mean so much to your sick child.  Your gentle grasp, your words of comfort, and your whispering of hope for life beyond this affliction, carry weight.

All of these things have a gravity of their own.  They are not measured in the physical lineage of this world.  Instead, they are mounted upon that seemingly invisible wave of fortitude that courses through your body.

You have the moxie to show this wayward season in your life that it is just that…a season…a temporary stay…a time that will not define your child, your parenthood, and your character.

With each glimpse of life outside of illness, you are anchoring your child and your own parenting experience to the hope of the future.

Hang on to that anchor.

Throw it onto land.

Proclaim it.

Set your vision on the shore of healing, and the life that is in sight.

Dear Parent of a Sick Child,

You are lonely, aren’t you?  You wonder about life beyond this sickness.  You remember those precious moments before this sadness entered your life.  You cherish with anticipation the visions of your child playing in the wonders of the world, dancing in the rain, experiencing a first crush, crying over a broken heart, going on a first date, graduating from school, and eventually, marrying the one who stole her heart.

You dream of your child launching herself into this world so that it can catch a bit of her radiance.

To be honest, I do not know what you are going through.  My children…my babies…are all seemingly healthy.  I know this can turn on a dime. From my own experience, I have learned that life is fragile.  One day, things seem okay.  The next, you are side-swiped by a diagnosis.

I hope, and pray, and give my own energy to the promise that my children will never experience the life-altering, nearly fatal, and forever-changing illness that I survived as a child.

I do not write from a point of complete understanding of what you are going through.  Instead, I simply write from the vision of what my parents must have felt while watching me fight for life during the eleventh year of my walk on this Earth.  I also write from the words that have come from their own mouths, and the mouths of observers when escaping back to that fateful time in my own life.

I write letters in retrospect.  I write in remembrance of their bravery, their quiet, yet strong presence, and their gentle proclamations that I would beat the hostile intruder that made its way to my life.

Dear Parent of a Sick Child,

I know you feel lonely.  I know you get tired of seeing the blessings of life that are happening around you.  You must get angry.  You must feel a twinge of jealousy.

You cry out to God in your anger, and in your weakness.

Please know that while you are feeling helpless, and maybe even insignificant, in this big world of unknowns, your presence is perhaps the largest and most beautiful sight in your sick child’s eyes.  Your own sense of loneliness is not seen by your child.

Instead, your nearness to the illness, and your child, has helped to underwrite the story of hope, and the melody of compassion that your child hears, and may even dance to in the future.

Continue to be there.  Continue to be that hand that can be held in the darkest of hours, the agonizing moments of pain, and the stillness of the day.

Stay strong, parent of a sick child.  Stay courageous.  Stay hopeful.

Stay.

Although you may feel like the loneliest person on Earth, your presence is a pillar of gladness that helps your child.

Together, you are not alone.

how I wonder…

School started this past week for my children.  My oldest son entered his second grade year with excitement.  He may not admit it all of the time, but he loves school. He grins from ear to ear when walking through the halls, and enjoys being around kids his own age.

My two-year-old seems to be exploding in his development.  Smiles, giggles, energy, and “Watch me, Mommy” all seem to captivate his world right now.  He is a happy, and healthy little boy.

My daughter started Kindergarten – she started Kindergarten!  Watching a little one grow into his or her own unique being, and enter into a new world of discovery, is both exciting and a little nerve-wracking.

The night before school started, I sat by my daughter’s bedside as she said, “I can’t go to sleep, Mommy.  My brain doesn’t want to.”  I know she was feeling anxious about the her first day at school, and tried to encourage her to get some sleep.

“Sing to me, Mommy.” she said. “Sing Twinkle,Twinkle Little Star….”

As I sat beside her singing “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star”, I looked around her slightly darkened pink and green room, and my eyes landed on her name spelled out in bright pink letters, a Cross hanging by her bed, and more than enough blankets to keep her feeling secure through the night.

As I softly sang to her, and gently rubbed her back, I thought about the mother’s around the world who are doing their best to sing their children to sleep. Under devastatingly tragic conditions, there are so many who are trying their best to soothe their children into a restful night’s sleep.

With the sound of gunfire, threat of violence, and hazards that make up the darkness of night, they might just be whispering….

“Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,

How I wonder what you are.

Up above the world so high,

Like a diamond in the sky.

Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,

How I wonder what you are.”

As I sang this song to my daughter, I peered through her curtains into the night sky. I thought about the mother’s looking up into the Heavens and wondering when God will deliver them from despair.

My mind escaped to the mountaintops in Iraq where children, mothers, and fathers are clinging to a sliver of hope…to that glimmer of light in a darkened place.

And then, I turned to my daughter, half-asleep, snuggled into her warm bed, and I felt thankful and sorrowful at the same time.

In my home state, a terrible thing has happened.  A young African-American male was shot and killed by a police officer.  Honestly, I do not know all of the details of what happened.  It is still a tragic and heart-breaking situation, though.

The aftermath has been a week filled with incredible anger and riots. Confusion, chaos, and images of seemingly palpable rage have splattered social media, television, and any form of news outlets.

Behind it all is a mother and a father grieving for their son.  A mother and father who, under tremendously sad conditions, are crying woeful, and deeply afflicting sobs for their son to whom they will no longer feel his embrace, no longer visualize his future, and no longer hear his voice.

“Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,

How I wonder what you are.

Up above the world so high,

Like a diamond in the sky.

Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,

How I wonder what you are.”

And then, I turn to my children, half-asleep, snuggled in their warm beds, and I feel thankful and sorrowful at the same time.

I’m thankful that some of my daily challenges as a mother include getting the kids out the door in time, deciding what they need to wear, assuring they are at least trying to use their manners, scheduling their extracurricular activities, and getting home in time to prepare dinner.

And, although it might sound odd, in some way, my heart is so incredibly sorrowful for too many who do not have the luxury of worrying about these things.

I feel guilty…I feel sadness…

My heart is heavy for the mothers whose daily challenges are keeping their babies alive, clothing them in whatever rags they can find, teaching them survival skills, visualizing (if only for a moment) a future for their children that does not include the threat of terror, having a home, a bed, and food, and burying their babies before they even have a chance at a life.  My heart is especially stricken with the thoughts of so many who are being persecuted for their faith or color of skin.

During this past week, I have celebrated my own children’s successes, fresh starts, and fun hobbies.  Not too far from these experiences have been my thoughts of the world to which we live in.

Although my daughter loves it when I sing, “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” to her as she drifts off to sleep, my heart is singing…

“Jesus, Jesus Savior Lord, 

How I wonder when You’ll come.

Up above this world so wrong, 

It is Your peace to which I long.

Jesus, Jesus Savior Lord,

How I wonder when You’ll come.”

 

“Jesus, Jesus Savior Lord.  

How I wonder when You’ll come.

Up above this world so torn,

We cry out; our hearts are worn.

Jesus, Jesus Savior Lord,

How I wonder when You’ll come.”

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.” – John 14:1-3

Gift Ideas for Foster Care and Adoption

Do you know someone who has recently became a foster parent, or is going through the adoption process?  Do you need some ideas for gifts to give?  Here are a few ideas to get you started:

  • Gift cards to a variety of retail stores (Foster families often take children in a “moment’s notice”, and may need to run out and grab a car seat, clothing, and other essentials for taking care of children.)
  • Gender neutral items (Even though a family has a preference for gender, sometimes they are selected or called about a child of the opposite gender.)
  • Gift cards to restaurants, zoo passes, movie tickets, or other entertainment venues.  Sometimes, actually often, a two parent home with no children instantly turns into a two parent home with three children.  Eating out, going to the movies and other forms of family entertainment can get expensive with a large family.)
  • Picture frames and scrap-booking materials (Foster families are asked to keep a Lifebook for each child in their care.  A Lifebook is essentially a scrapbook of the child’s life before foster care and while in care.)
  • Children’s hygiene necessities (Often, families are bombarded with clothing, toys, and other nice gifts, but they may not have a supply of pediatric fever reducers, pain medicines, toothbrushes/toothpaste, or other hygiene products.)
  • Photography Packages (Professional photography can get expensive.  Consider going in with other friends/family members and purchasing a photography session.  It is a wonderful moment when newly adopted children become part of the family portraits, and is a “rite of passage” of sorts.)
  • Foster Care and Adoption resource books (Families may need to read and learn about a variety of challenges they might face.  Reading is a great way to learn from the experience of others.)

One of my favorite gifts after adopting my oldest son (our first adoption) is pictured below.  My co-workers purchased it for me.  It meant so much because they prayed for our journey as foster parents.  They prayed for our son’s “case”.  They prayed for our son.  Gifts like this one can mean so much for a family who is starting a family or expanding a family through foster care and adoption.

plaque

Do you have any other ideas?  If so, please share!