A Time to Grieve

God was so gracious this weekend, in that we were able to find respite for all three girls, and my mom took the boys. It's been a tumultuous week to say the least, as plans for Little Sis M have changed from second to second, literally.

The boys and I were taking Little Sis to her respite. As I began unbuckling her, Daniel (3), began kicking, screaming, and crying uncontrollably, saying, "Mommy, it's not time for her to go yet. I'll miss her too much."

I tried to explain to his little mind, that we would all be together again tomorrow, but even when the time does come for her to leave, it will be okay because God is a big and good God no matter what happens.

He didn't get it.

A short hour later I walked into Lifeway to find a Bible to send with Little Sis. I'm not sure what happened, but a wave of grief and disappointment hit me. I began weeping in the middle of the store, pretty uncontrollably. Yes, everyone watched in pity. My heart kicked and screamed within me, saying it's just not time yet. Everything in me felt that God wasn't big enough, and Jesus couldn't still be on His throne if my heart was this heavy.

Praise God His Son didn't act on His feelings in the Garden. And Praise God, Jesus trusted His Father enough to share His plea, because I know He understands.

We know we're called to orphan care, but this unique aspect of orphan ministry brings another creepy baggage with it...that of grief. We're told the goal is reunification; we understand it, and we even beg God for it, but we also realize the truth that there will most likely be some who stay, some who return, and some who go to entirely different homes.

But understanding these things doesn't change that we've done the diapers for the last six months, or that she's reached for us when she's cried. It doesn't change that we're the ones who've whispered the name of Jesus in her ear every chance we get, and we're the ones who've hit our knees every morning, crying out for her heart to long for a Savior even now. It doesn't change that in every sense of the word, except the legal one, we have been her family.

She has been our daughter #3, and our daughters #1 and #2, will be here for a season. These girls are worth celebrating, and they are worth grieving, especially when you know you may never hear their voices or see their faces again.

So we grieve. But this week, I've realized I've grieved before my sons with the belief that I trust my God with eternity, but not with today. I've grieved as if I'm a victim of a broken world, rather than a daughter of a Victor who is redeeming that world.

I've held in the tears, and let them fester to bitterness and unbelief, telling them their Heavenly Father isn't big enough to take it.

So today in the car, my three sons and I wept together. We held hands and cried, and told God we were sad and mad that things hadn't quite gone as we had hoped.

Caleb squeezed my hand and prayed, "Sometimes, God, I get really discouraged that you've told our family to do this. It's really hard, God. But like Mommy says, 'You are still God, and Jesus is still on His throne, so we know you won already.'"

I almost let my despair make me miss it. I almost cried Uncle. I almost chose comfort.

But by His grace, I let my sons taste the suffering of their Savior. I let them see the glimpse of the grief the Father had as He surrendered His Son. I let them see that the pain, the sadness, the tears are real, and we own them as we grieve a broken world and the deep discomfort of letting go.

But...

In that same moment they point to a victory we already have, and we can share in the suffering of the cross, because it's been completed, and we know the end. And as we taste the pain for this very short season, we will realize the joy that conquered death and despair forever.

I almost missed it.

Father to the Fatherless

I gave Jamie the perfect gift for Father's Day.

I ranted, raved, kicked, screamed, and I have to say, it was the perfect pity party of a day for me. I made sure this amazing father and husband knew absolutely nothing was going my way.

He held me and wept with me.

I loved hopping on Facebook yesterday and seeing everyone's comments, rejoicing over their amazing dads and husbands. It forced me to pause for a second and consider...

It was 10 years ago last week I made a commitment to this man. 10 years ago that we walked around our apartment parking lot planning the two children we would have five years apart. Planning the expensive schools we would send them to, and swearing we would never homeschool. It was 10 years ago we plotted amazing career journeys, and dreamed wonderfully vain dreams of big homes and nice cars.

And, it was 10 years ago Jamie looked at me and said, "Above all else, I want the heart of the Father."

Now it's today.

We are blessed. But our vain dreams are fleeting away, and our hearts cry has become as Aaron Ivey sings, "Distribute what we have so that all may taste and see Your kingdom come."

And Jamie's longing to look like his heavenly Father, has caused him to become the leader in our crazy pursuit of a life where our family's characters are constantly changing, the bed sinks somewhere below the hundreds of loads of laundry, the grocery bills insanely mount, and all there's to show is yet another turkey sandwich dinner.

Is it worth it the sacrifice?

He leaves most days before 6 in the morning, and comes home at 6 in the evening. After serving and meeting important needs all day, He enters a realm where half the occupants have never known an example of a father, and they're begging him for one more look, one more prayer, one more laugh...

Is it worth the exhaustion?

Jamie would have to give his answer, but I can share my side of the story. In the six short months we've begun to care for orphans in our home, there have been nine. Nine.... little girls who have never known their daddy, who have never had anyone tell them they are worthy in the appropriate sense.... little boys who've never known anyone to represent and model all the crazy things they have bottled inside them, who have never had anyone to tell them they have what it takes.

Nine...who have never had anyone to read the gospel aloud to them, discipline them with the heart of a Father, sing them to sleep, and laugh over them as they greet the morning.

They say there are 147 million orphans in the world. I've met a mere nine, who've had a glimpse of their Creator through the heart of my husband, a glimpse of a Savior through the mercy shown through my sons' father.

A mere nine of 147 million who have watched a man they barely know wrestle, delight, admonish, and celebrate his three sons as they become little men of God who also want to look like their Father.

He longed to have the heart of His Father...and that has led him to be a Father to the Fatherless....

I would say it's worth it all and more.

Heavy-hearted Hope

The time has come that really in the back of our mind, we've dreaded for the last five months. We received word this week that we need to begin preparing for Little Sis M's leaving us.

Three years ago, Jamie and I set out to adopt. I wanted a little girl, and I wanted to rescue someone. So, when this little black-eyed baby was our first to foster, there was no doubt in our minds. We've made ourselves very clear to DHR from the beginning that we would love to keep her.

But, you see, this ministry isn't about me, or Jamie, or my boys, or even Little Baby M. This ministry is about His kingdom coming to earth. I was reminded of that today.

We got the phone call on Monday, and we've had a good week of tears, mixed with a VBS in our backyard, a tree struck by lightening, and everything else that goes with raising 6 kids. We received a request from M's family for a visit. We've been trying and praying for this for a while.

On the way to our meeting at the park, my soul kicked and screamed at God. I called Jamie too many times crying, saying I couldn't do this, and why did we ever obey the Father's leading.

Then, I sat for two hours on a park bench with a woman who told me her story. She told me the story of her children, and the brokenness of her life these last four years. I watched her hold this little girl I've sang to, prayed over, giggled with, and longed to be mine. She slept on her grandmother's chest, so perfectly. And I heard my Father's voice so clearly...

This is about Me.

And so then I took this woman's hand, and shared my story. I told her of my only hope, My Savior Jesus Christ.

Then, we prayed together and wept.

I wanted a little girl, whose hair I could put bows in, and I could parade in front of others. My dreams are so very small.

He's chosen my family to bring hope to the hopeless, to loose the chains of injustice, the bind the brokenhearted, and to bring freedom to the captive.

This isn't about me.

Today, on a park bench, the very glory of God was present. And I was part of it. We'll meet again to pray, talk and hold this sweet girl we both love in a week.

The time is coming soon for us to say goodbye to this daughter we love deeply, but we believe we are part of something that is bringing His kingdom into the lives of families here on earth.

It's not about us.

A Lie

It's been a rotten week. I've complained, cried, and stomped my feet real good. Our two new R's are transitioning, not great, but ok. It's not as much them, as it is me.

You see whenever God is using you, or leads you to answer a call, you can bet that's the last place Satan wants you. So expect an attack from every angle. In other words, I think it's safe to say that if you aren't fighting a battle in your life, you might want to check what you've settled for. Our enemy prowls around, looking for whom he may devour. If I'm the target, that doesn't seem like a life of ease and chocolate.

Anyway, through these new additions to our family, God has shown me some dark places I have failed to trust Him. He's asked, Do you really believe I'm enough? In two days we've experienced a busted car, busted head, and busted air conditioner...not exactly how we wanted to break the bank.

But, in my heart, I'm experiencing things much darker. I've bought into a lie. Somewhere between the branch through my window and the child always in my shadow, I began believing I'm alone in this battle, in this fight for these hearts. I'm alone in raising these girls, and boys, for a God's glory whose abandoned me to do His work. I bought into the lie that He has brought me to this place to leave me unprotected, unequipped, and unprovided for.

I bought into the lie that I'm... an orphan.

Today was the perfect storm. I rose at 3 am to do my Walmart trip. I decided to not spend time with my Father because I could fix things better on my own. Then, in the middle of the car packed with seven screaming, hitting, kicking individuals (I would be the 7th). I broke.

I can't do this alone, Father. Have you brought me here to leave me?

His answer over the next hour was...

• Four completely "random" text from friends saying they were lifting me up right at that moment.
• An older woman who I only know in passing me "randomly" asking me if she could pray for me on our knees right there, for joy and strength. She knew nothing.
• An envelope with cash in our mailbox.
• Dinner left by someone on our front porch.
• A friend asking if she could begin loving on Big Sis R.
• Another friend asking if she could begin watching Little Sis R regularly for me.
• Flowers on the front porch from my senior high gang.
• And a call with a new chance to share our story for the kingdom.

I bought the lie that I was alone; it was up to me to fix, order, maintain, and survive.

I'm an idiot.

Jonah 2:8 says, "Those who cling to worthless idols, forfeit the grace that could be theirs." I almost missed the precious graces He had for me today through the body He's called and provided to hold me up in my calling. I almost missed it.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow.