Category: Inspiration

What Adoption Means: Adoption is just another way God Blesses us

“What Adoption Means” Post #8 – Even though we are well into December, I’m continuing my posts from fellow adoptive parents on what adoption means to them.  I have found that a lot of the messages I have received are ones where people want to tell their stories of adoption.  We hear about birth stories.  We listen to women who have given birth describe their pregnancies, and their deliveries, so when someone has the opportunity to share his or her adoption story, I think it is worth reading!

Here is an international adoption story written by Amy, a mother who knows her life would not be complete without her daughter.  Adoption Means #8

“Well to start out… when Mark and I started dating we both expressed interest in adoption.  I personally wanted to only adopt but he wanted biological children also, so we started our marriage with the intent to have two biological children, and adopt two children.

On our 3rd wedding anniversary, we decided to start trying to have a baby.  Eleven and half months later, I was pregnant with Elijah.  My pregnancy went fairly well accept I gained seventy-one pounds!

Delivery was a different story.  It was hard.  Twenty-one hours after my water broke, I was rushed in for a c-section. Not fun!  After that experience, Mark changed his mind about having another bio child.

When Eli was five-months-old, we started talking about adoption. We didn’t want our kids to be very far apart so in April of 2005, we signed paper work with Christian World Adoption.  Paper work kept coming for the next two and a half years!  It was so hard waiting and waiting.  I thought we would never get a referral.

Once all our paperwork was in we had to wait about three months (April to June 12) before we got the phone call that we had a baby!  Our daughter was born May 20, 2007. We were so excited!

They e-mailed us a picture and mailed the rest of our paperwork to sign.  The first time I saw Elena, I was amazed at how beautiful she was. Her eyes were so piercing. I knew when I saw her that we needed each other.

The Lord placed her in our home.  

It was just… right.

For a months everything was going just as we thought it would, and then, the Guatemala program turned. We started hearing bad stories about trips to Guatemala. People were not getting the babies they were planning on. Mix ups with children.  Stolen children.  The program in Guatemala was shutting down.

When we got our referral we thought that we would have her by Thanksgiving.  Nope.  Christmas?  No, again.  We knew that the program was coming to an end, but not even our agency could tell us the deadline date.

We were so nervous.  We didn’t know if we would ever get to go to Guatemala.  All we knew is that if we got our paper work out of the Guatemalan government by Dec. 31, 2007, then we would have a chance.  We asked everyone we knew to pray and fast.  (Really, we had been praying all along and had been fasting on Mondays for a couple of months)

There were so many people fasting and praying with us.  It really is amazing how people can ban together at difficult times.  We decided her name would be Elena Marie.

In December of 2007, we found out that all we had to do was wait for a court date with the Guatemalan embassy.  PRAISE GOD!!!!!!! On January 23rd (1 month later), we got word that our court date was set for February 9th!  Talked about scrambled eggs.  My brain was crazy messed up!

We got to our hotel in Guatemala at 2:00, and Irma (foster-mother) and Elena were supposed to be there at 3:00. We freshened up a bit, and then at 2:40 we went down stairs to wait.  My nerves were shot.  I was shaking and jiggling my legs so hard.  To see the video, it was pretty funny.

At 4:20, they walked through the doors. Elena was asleep. She is so cute when she’s asleep.  She looked like an angel. All my nerves were at peace.  Irma didn’t speak any English and Mark and I speak very little Spanish.

The first 30 minutes,  I just let Irma hold her (she had Elena from the time she was two-days-old until she placed her in our arms).

 I felt like I was respecting her by allowing her to place her in our arms in her timing.

After about an hour, we asked Irma if she wanted to have dinner with us.  She said, “Yes.”  It was so neat getting to know her.  I knew that the more I got to know her, the better I would understand Elena.  It was so true.

Elena immediately attached to us.  That night she cried for me when I went to the rest room.  She slept all night and was great.  Eli fell in love that day! ( He still is. ) She loved us.  WE LOVED HER! ( not like it was a surprise!)

The next night we had dinner with Irma and her husband, Oscar. We hired a translator for the hotel. We received excellent advice and tips for Elena’s habits and personality. It was so fun to sit down and visit with them.

The next day we went to the embassy for our appointment. It really wasn’t anything like I expected.  It was really informal!  We made plans with Irma and Oscar to go to church with them on Sunday.  Our agency told us to not to leave a certain area in Guatemala City but we did.

It was so exciting.  They sang the same songs as we do just in Spanish.  The Holy Spirit was overwhelmingly strong.  I think I cried almost all of the first part of the service.  Irma was too!

I didn’t understand anything Pastor Cash Luna was saying, but it seems to be the most important message I have ever heard.  After church, Irma and Oscar came back to the hotel with us for one last meal together. We really enjoyed our time with them. When it was time for them to leave, Irma came to hug me goodbye.  It was so hard.  We just stood there in the middle of the restaurant and cried just embracing each other.  It was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I thought we were both going to fall. I was holding her tiny under 5 ‘ body up.  Her head was laying on my chest.  I love her so much.

She is a part of my family now.  She raised my daughter the first 9 1/2 months of her life.  She loves Elena.  She will forever.

It is amazing how much you can learn from someone you know nothing about.  I still pray for her and think about her all the time.  We have sent gifts and pictures and letters , but we get no response.  We don’t know if she gets them, or if it is just too hard for her.

Everyone was so excited to see her; especially my Dad, James.  Oh yeah, and Mark’s youngest sister Tiffany! Everyone immediately loved her.  When she was thirteen-months-old, she started walking and her and her BIG brother were inseparable. They love each other more than most siblings that I have met.

I truly believe every Christian family should make it a priority to adopt.

There are so many children that need us and believe it or not… we need them. Our lives would not be complete with out Elena.  I love her as much as I love my biological son Elijah.

Adoption is just another way God blesses us with kids and builds our families.  Every child deserves a loving family.”    

Tribulations and Triumphs

Do not fear your tribulations.  Without them, you may never savor the taste of your triumphs.

These words came to me as I was packing up our car for a weekend road trip to my oldest son’s gymnastic competition in a city a few hours away.  I’m not sure why they did, but I took the moment to jot them down.  Throughout the drive, I kept thinking about them.

Tribulations and triumphs.  Heartache and hope.  Despair and contentment.  I’m pretty sure these words make up much of the human existence.

The gymnastics competition went well for my son, and for the team.  He made some mistakes, but did his best, and his team won first place. Gym

On the way home, our van broke down.  It was unexpected, and quite random.  We just put new tires on, and had it completely serviced a few weeks ago.  A hose broke and sent smoke and fluid throughout the engine.  Stuck on the side of the road with children, my mother, my husband, and cold weather, I recalled the words,

Do not fear your tribulations.  Without them, you may never savor the taste of your triumphs.

At the time, I did not embrace these words.  If anything, I was pretty annoyed. Thankfully, we were able to get our van towed to a local mechanic, and my children, mother, and I were able to get home through the help of family.  My husband stayed behind, and arrived safely home the next day after the van was fixed.

I’m not exactly what is going on, but it seems that lately I have been stuck somewhere between a blessing and a curse.  I take two steps forward, then wham…I have to take four steps back.  Unexpected and costly medical issues have come up recently.  We have also had vehicle issues, and random household repairs that all have been quite expensive.  This incident this weekend just seemed to be the icing on the cake for us, and ended up costing more than we initially thought it would.

Do not fear your tribulations.  Without them, you may never savor the taste of your triumphs.

As the day progressed, I thought more about these words gifted to me on our way out-of-town.  I thought that maybe someone else needed to hear them.  There are so many people going through tremendous battles in their lives.  Keeping them all in mind, I thought, “I can write about these words.  Surely there’s a blog post there.”

I’ve realized that while someone else might need to read them, they were very much meant for me.  I have been told, “God must be getting ready to bless you big-time; otherwise, you would not be going through what you are going through.”  I’m not so sure I believe this.

I do not believe God owes me anything more than I have already been given.

I have a family.  I have a home.  I have many other things in my life that I consider a blessing.  I have love in my life.  I have salvation.  After this, nothing else really matters.

Do not fear your tribulations.  Without them, you may never savor the taste of your triumphs.

The truth is that I have struggled lately fearing tribulations.  Perhaps other mothers (and fathers) feel this way as well.  News of violence around our community and our world seems to be commonplace.

There is not one day that I drop my children off at school and wonder about what they might face during the day.  I also think about the world to which I am raising them.  Truthfully, I have begged for Christ to return.  I have yearned for it.  If not for my own feelings of fear, but for the sake of my children.

And yet, I return to the many tribulations in the past and how they have turned into triumphs.  I look back and recognize that I have always been given just what I needed, right when I needed it.  I return to the fact that each day is a gift.  Each day is an opportunity to embrace this incredible faith in Jesus Christ.

Do I fear my tribulations?  At times.

Do I walk around with a bad attitude?  Sometimes.

Do I wish that life was just a bit easier at times?  Of course.

Have I tasted the victory of triumphs?  Yes.

And, do I recognize that the greatest triumph of all is found in Christ?  

Absolutely.

Christ triumphed for us all, and the taste of His victory is so sweet.

Do not fear your tribulations.  Without them, you may never savor the taste of your triumphs.

ways of God

I do not understand the ways of God, but I understand this:

He continues to create, orchestrate, and demonstrate His faithfulness in the lives of His children.

My children are not of my own flesh and blood. I do not have any stories to tell about their growth in my womb, the experience of labor, and the subsequent delivery. I do not have much to say about any of that, but boy, I have a lot to say about their “births” into my life.

And this, you see, THIS is why I fully embrace and recognize the incredible scripting of God’s story in my life, and in yours.

I cannot fathom a life without the children that God has given me. I would not trade it for anything in this world.

I would not even trade it for the gift of pregnancy.

And this, you see, THIS is why I fully embrace and recognize the incredible scripting of God’s story in my life, and in yours.

The next time you wonder where God is in your life, I urge you to take a look around.

He is in the midst of the people He has chosen for your lives.

He is in the middle of your heartbreak, your successes, and your declarations of freedom.

He is in the valleys, on the mountaintops, and somewhere in between.

He is backwards, forwards, and in the present.

He is right where you are.

My children…my ornery, spirited, challenging, yet beautiful children are exactly what and who they are meant to be in my life. Praise God for that!

And this, you see, THIS is why I fully embrace and recognize the incredible scripting of God’s story in my life, and in yours.

I do not understand the ways of God, but I understand this:

He continues to create, orchestrate, and demonstrate His faithfulness in the lives of His children.

He is backwards, forwards, and in the present.

He is right where you are.

Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable his judgments, and his paths beyond tracing out! -Romans 11:33

Dear (Foster) Momma of a Stranger’s Child {letter #4}

Dear (Foster) Momma of a Stranger’s Child,

A year has gone by since the child of a stranger entered your home.  You look back on the year, and it seems like a blur.  On one hand, it feels like the slowest year of your life.  On the other, it has gone by in a flash.  So much has happened, but one thing that seems to stick out the most is this,

You are no longer loving on a stranger’s child.

The stranger that you swore you could not begin to understand is not a stranger to you anymore.  No.  She is someone you have experienced an array of feelings over.  You have gotten angry at her choices.  You have felt pity for her own life story; especially the parts you have learned about her childhood.  You have been exasperated by her failure to respond, felt fear over her sudden motivation, and then, felt incredible sadness over her life falling apart again.

The stranger that you swore you could not begin to understand is not a stranger to you anymore

You don’t want to care about her.  You don’t want to pray for her success.  Still yet, when you look in the eyes of the sweet little one that you have grown to love, you cannot help but catch a glimpse of her.  You see her in the way he gets a certain look when telling a little fib.  You see her when he smiles a certain way.

You catch moments of her when he holds his tongue a certain way while concentrating on what is being said.  You’ve seen it as well…at court hearings, in meetings, and in pictures.

The stranger that you swore you could not begin to understand is not a stranger to you anymore

Dear (Foster) Momma of a Stranger’s Child,

It has been a year since your eyes first met the stranger’s child.  It has been a year since you tucked him in for the night, attended his meetings at school, watched him unwrap presents on special days, carried him while he was sick, cried with him when he was crying for his first Momma, stayed up all night to watch him just in case he needed you, and found yourself falling in love.

It has been a year since you sat quietly at that first meeting just taking it all in.  It has been a year since you heard the allegations, attended the court hearings, helped with visits, and started praying fervently for God’s will to be done.

It has not been easy.  You know that.  You have even thought to yourself, “I don’t want to pray for her life to fall apart again, but how do I pray about this love I feel for him? How can I separate my selfish love/desire to be his forever Momma while also praying for the very soul who birthed him into the world?”

You look back at the year and cannot believe how far you all have come.  The little one who entered your home is making incredible strides.  He still has his moments of complete melt-downs (which are all completely heartbreaking), but these moments seem to be further apart.  In their place, you are now witnessing the growth and gifts of a child to whom had been stifled by the chaos of neglect.

You look back on the year, and while you do not see a whole lot of progress in the stranger whose child you love, what you see instead is a human being that is and always will be near to your heart.  You see someone, once a child in need herself, who has failed time and time again, but you cannot help but yearn to see her through eyes of love.

After all, when you look in the eyes of the sweet little one that you have grown to love, you cannot help but catch a glimpse of her.

You look back at the year and you remember when you started on this journey.  A bit naive?  Perhaps.  A bit of a superhero complex?  Maybe.  A bit scared?  Absolutely.  You recall that first phone call about placement, driving to pick up the little one, nervously greeting the case worker for the first time, meeting the stranger that you did not understand, praying and crying in your pillow at night, exhaling in exhaustion after the court hearings, and welcoming case managers, attorneys, and others involved in child welfare into your home on a routine basis.

You look back at the year and you remember those special moments of discovery and healing that you and the little one have embarked on together.  You recall the joy at first successes, the sadness of first disappointments, and the day in and day out of growing a child who belongs to someone else.

And then…

The stranger that you swore you could not begin to understand is not a stranger to you anymore.

She is now someone you have come to care about.

After all, when you look in the eyes of the sweet little one that you have grown to love, you cannot help but catch a glimpse of her.

Most of all though, you are beginning to recognize the gift of life that the Lord has given you.  You are able to see His hand-prints and His footprints that have marked the path to which you have walked this last year.  You see how He has answered your prayers. Each day, you have grown more in your walk with the Lord.  You feel renewed, refreshed, and refined.

You look back at the year and you now see how the very child you love, the stranger to whom you swore you could begin to understand, and the reflection of yourself in the mirror are all part of a bigger story that is still being written.  You see your part in the story of a precious life that was crafted by our Creator in Heaven.

Dear (Foster) Momma of a Stranger’s Child,

You are no longer loving on a stranger’s child.

You are loving on His child.

Psalm 139:1-18 (The Message Bible)-  I look behind me and you’re there, then up ahead and you’re there, too – your reassuring presence, coming and going. This is too much, too wonderful – I can’t take it all in! Is there anyplace I can go to avoid your Spirit? to be out of your sight? If I climb to the sky, you’re there! If I go underground, you’re there! If I flew on morning’s wings to the far western horizon, You’d find me in a minute – you’re already there waiting! Then I said to myself, “Oh, he even sees me in the dark! At night I’m immersed in the light!” It’s a fact: darkness isn’t dark to you; night and day, darkness and light, they’re all the same to you. Oh yes, you shaped me first inside, then out; you formed me in my mother’s womb. I thank you, High God – you’re breathtaking! Body and soul, I am marvelously made! I worship in adoration – what a creation! You know me inside and out, you know every bone in my body; You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit, how I was sculpted from nothing into something. Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth; all the stages of my life were spread out before you, The days of my life all prepared before I’d even lived one day. Your thoughts – how rare, how beautiful! God, I’ll never comprehend them! I couldn’t even begin to count them – any more than I could count the sand of the sea. Oh, let me rise in the morning and live always with you! 

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

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.

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