Some Days I Forget My Reward ~

I sat in the child welfare conference area beside friends for whom we had battled in prayer.

Children for whom we had wept from our knees. 

My heart was filled with praise to see a room full of adoptions celebrated, yet shadowed with the quiet understanding to the lessons we had been learning in light of our calling becoming increasingly defined in the past months. 

Stepping into this world of foster care, our dreams craved a finalized adoption, another child, and new face.

Yet God has continued to say, No.

His plans for us have been distinctly different. We've delighted in walking with families and witnessing restoration, and we deeply feel these experiences will continue to shape our future.

Yet I'm ashamed to say not a day goes by that my eyes aren't pricked to tears and my feet aren't tempted to stomp and display a tantrum in rebellion.

I despise the jealousy, mingled with joy, that wells within me as I note my precious friends' adoption trial dates on my calendar with prayer.

It was this past Christmas Eve morning: the fact I had just been woken to sounds of vomit from the boys' room captured how I felt about foster care in perfection.

After cleaning the mess off the floor, I locked myself away in the basement to scrub the upchuck of my heart.

It wasn't pretty.

I demanded and bargained. I reminded God of every single thing to which we had said, Yes. I explained to him that I was fully aware that those efforts did not earn my salvation, but meeting me halfway would certainly be more than sufficient.

There, you have it. The nasty ugly.

How precious my Father did not leave me there.

As God asked Job in Job 38 ~

Where were you when I laid the earth's foundation? Tell me if you understand. Who marked off it's dimensions? Surely, you know. Who stretched a measuring line across it? On what were it's footings set, or who laid its cornerstone....? ~ Finish the chapter. It's humbling.

In the quiet of my soul I knew He was beckoning us to lay it all down once again. He wasn't surprised by my fresh bout of pouting. He calls me to be a living sacrifice. And I'm pretty sure that anything alive, being prepared for a kill, uses its reflexes in defense.

So He's teaching me to be still.

He's restoring my hunger for Him, to love through Him by abiding in Him.

He's reminding me that Jesus is enough.

My heart could only reply, as King David in I Chronicles 17:16, 

Who am I, Lord God, and what is my family, that you have brought me thus far?

And I worshipped.

~~~~~

The countdown is on to my Blog Birthday party! Join us here.

Because of Jesus ~

It's my Birthday, and you're invited!

Okay...

1. I really do plan to begin posting regularly again.

2. Please pray for us as we have been quiet on purpose, wrestling through some heavy shadows. Pray for wisdom, for abiding peace and resting hope.

3. Don't let my silence hold you back from jumping in on your invite to my...

36th Blog Birthday Party!

The entire gang voted on this one :)

I cannot believe this will be our fourth annual celebration!

When I turned 33, you guys showered us with diapers for Jefferson County Department of Human Resources.

33 Boxes for my 33rd Birthday!

 For my 34th, you rocked the Shelby County Department of Human Resource's playrooms!

Kristin and I kicking off the painting!

Last year, you poured into Lifeline's new counseling program with tools and therapy needs for kiddos in care.

This year, we met with caseworkers, foster parents and supervisors to identify one of the most consistent, urgent and expensive needs in the community of foster care...CAR SEATS!

Imagine scrambling to say yes to a four-year-old in the middle of the night, but there's no car seat. That could possibly hinder you from being able to be that child's safe place for the moment.

Only to wake up the next night to relive the scenario, but with an infant.

Typically, child welfare supervisors are required to have a car seat for each stage available to their caseworkers; however, Jefferson and Shelby Counties have been slammed with incoming cases since early August, and there are little-to-none available or remaining.

So...here's our challenge :)

Can we round up 36, or 56, or 106 car seats for kids who will enter care in the coming weeks and months in order to support foster parents and caseworkers, and hold up their hands as they answer, YES, with excellence and love? 

Can we do it by my 36th birthday on March 4th?

There are four ways to participate:

1. Purchase any type car seat, contact me {cafranktie@aol.com}, and we will arrange pick up.

2. Clean out your garage and car! If you no longer need a car seat you have, you may donate it! The  car seat must not have been in any accident at any point, and please check it's expiration date.

3. You may always give a tax-deductible donation online at The Forgotten Initiative, and please note Birmingham Birthday.

4. Would you pretty please share this post? The more people we invite, the more awareness is raised, and the stronger our efforts are together!

The longer Jamie and I are involved in foster care, we are increasingly convinced this must be a community effort to support child welfare services, the families and children in crisis, and the foster families and mentors with faithfulness.

What a simple way to do as God commands His people in Jeremiah 29, Seek the welfare our city.

And while you're at it, you get to say, Happy Birthday to me :)

Because of Jesus ~

The Quest for Satisfaction

What a difference a year makes...

I'm ashamed at how neglected this space has become, and yet recognize the need we've had to step back and contemplate some significant changes in the ministry to which God has led us.

I've stolen a few moments of quiet today as footballs whiz by my ears and little princesses in tutus brush my leg to dwell on the reality that this past year was one of healing.

It was a long season of embracing the calling we now know we cannot escape and girding ourselves with His abundant grace to walk forward with hope.

We've come to an understanding that as John Piper said, Ministry is not what ordinary Christians do. It's a lifestyle devoted to making much of Christ.

My friends, that is not comfortable or easy.

Some days, I'm not even sure I would say I believe it is worth it.

But the corners of my soul resonate with a Yes.

Each day we peel back the layers a little more and realize this thing we do is messed up. It doesn't make sense. It's not natural, or clean or black and white.

Instead, it's muddy, and messy, and so very grey.

But as my friend Jeff Huey once told me, It's often the grey where God moves greatly.

With each passing day, I increasingly have come to the truth that my own means of survival is by, as it says in 2 Corinthians 4:8, fixing our eyes not on what is seen, but what is unseen.

Foster care is crammed with the unseen.

All of real ministry, the down and dirty, truly takes form in the unseen.

This past year, I had such dark moments of feeling so very lonely.

I've considered more and more how foster care {or any ministry} is an actual state of being. If we are truly surrendered to our calling, we cannot pretend that it will not infiltrate every space of our lives.

This could be a terrifying truth, or powerfully freeing.

Because when we own this and are able to embrace it, we are likewise able to own that in this life we are continually waged in a war, deep in the trenches.

And daily, we must take up the full armor.

We are finally able to lay aside our complexes to fix and rescue, and instead stand firm...and when we have done all, we stand.

We're sometimes asked what the "end game" is in our ministry. What is the point when we will be satisfied and fulfilled...when it will be completed?

Only a few years ago, I would have said it was when the word adoption had sealed a deal.

Now, we say Jesus.

Our reward is not a child, or many children.

It is not a successful reunification or another chance to share our story.

Our reward is Jesus Christ.

He is the end of our quest for satisfaction.

I'm reminded often of Jude 1:24, To Him who is able to keep you from falling and to present you before His glorious presence without fault and with great joy...

Friends, this year, if we truly surrender ourselves to the hand of God's work, it's gonna feel some days like we are falling.

There will be moments we are tempted to despair, to pull the fuzzy blanket over our heads and hide with the chocolate truffles.

BUT GOD...

He is making all things new, not all new things.

He longs to give us a fresh vision of His Son.

Before foster care, I didn't need Jesus, like on my knees crying out with groans.

Jesus used foster care to save me. This is the space He calls me to intentionally experience Himself for my good and His glory.

In order to hope, we must have a need for hope. In order to trust, we must have a need to trust.

My friend, we are waiting expectantly for Jesus, and Isaiah 64:4 promises that, He acts for those who wait for Him.

Our lives are meant to make Jesus believable to the world.

The hope and power to do this must come from something beyond ourselves.

For me, it has meant spending these last months with the truths and promises taped to the ceiling and walls, by the bed on nights when I wake from the sounds of their nightmares.

It's carving space out to preach the Gospel to ourselves, to each other, to our sons, and to the children entrusted to our care.

It's intentionally redefining success to not be a ribboned finish line, but daily fixing our eyes on Jesus who both authored our faith and has promised to perfect and finish it.

He is the beginning and end. 

Your life is rooted in the unshakable sovereign purposes of God. 

You have been chosen, and consecrated, and formed and appointed for a great purpose. 

~ John Piper 

Because we are GREATLY loved ~

We will never have it together.

Many of you know our early years' marriage story.

But in case you don't, I'll fill you in...it was rough.

Sweet Man and I are products of two very different families. If you couple that with the reality that we are both beyond stubborn, independent and insanely selfish, it shouldn't surprise you that I called home after being in our wedding night hotel room a whole hour, weeping to my mom to come and get me.

She gently encouraged me to get a grip.

Now take that frustration and compound it by hundreds of days of unwillingness to bend or grow on either of our ends, and you're greeted with the natural result of numerous nights of my jumping up and down on the dining room table screaming, or pouting and whining to manipulate our personal agendas.

We were messed up.

From the outside, you would never know it. 

We knew the Christian script well. 

We mechanically danced the waltz we'd been taught to do, but we were professional fakers.

Mix this scenario with three surprise blessing pregnancies in three and a half years, a sick son and gallons of sin...and you have a picture of our ticking bomb.

But friends, we all have a ticking bomb.

It may not be your marriage, but there is a space you're striving to control, to juggle, to protect. You're unknowingly preserving its idol status.

You next natural question might be, How did you ever get from there to here?

From weeping in my daddy's lap to let me come home, to grasping that Jamie is the primary catalyst of my seeing my Savior on this earth and becoming more like Him?

It was a train wreck of coming clean.

We got real with those around us, let them into our muck and grey, to wade through it with us.

It was May 18th, 2007, when we hit rock bottom. I was six months pregnant with Daniel, Benjamin was at the doctor every other day, vomiting and so very sick all the time, Caleb was surviving, and Jamie and I despised each other.

But something shifted that day. 

For so long, we had bought the lie that we could not be used by God until we were able to pull ourselves together. We believed the nasty whispers that in order to do life with the body of believers, we had to be neat and tidy, presentable and appropriate.

On that afternoon, we fell to our knees together and said, Enough.

We called those we considered close to us and shared the truth that we were broken and at the end. 

They came, and for the first time in our five years of marriage we were exposed, our sin, our desperation, our aching and scars.

Then, we turned to God, weeping from our knees and said, Take it all. Take our lives, our sons, our home, our marriage, money and dreams, and just make it Yours, whatever you want, however you want it, because it's not working our way.

Friends, in that moment, for the first time in our marriage, I knew I wasn't going to suffocate from my own need to control.

I was free from myself. 

We weren't our own anymore.

And we've never looked back.

People often remark to me in conversation, We want to do something like you do when we have it more together...

When there's enough money...

Or the bigger house...

Or our kids' grow up...

Or we retire...

Or we don't fight anymore...

Women tell me they will join a small group when their hearts are in a more stable place. 

Families will open their doors to hospitality when their house is in better shape, the new project complete.

Christ-followers commenting they'll incorporate outreach into their lives when they cross the next time hump, financial crunch...

Friends, the Gospel is for the broken.

It's about beggars discovering the Bread of Life in the midst of our famine of the soul.

We're all desperate, and if we say we're not, we've missed one of the most beautiful cornerstones of life...

To be utterly exposed and needy together, with one another before our Savior who became exposed for us.

Come, ye sinners, poor and needy,

Weak and wounded, sick and sore;

Jesus ready stands to save you,

Full of pity, love and power.

Come, ye weary, heavy-laden,

Lost and ruined by the fall;

If you tarry till you're better,

You will never come at all.

View Him prostrate in the garden;

On the ground your Maker lies;

On the bloody tree behold Him;

Sinner, will this not suffice?

Lo! the incarnate God ascended,

Pleads the merit of His blood;

Venture on Him, venture wholly.

Let no other trust intrude.

Let not conscience make you linger,

Not of fitness fondly dream;

All the fitness He requireth

Is to feel your need for Him.

I will arise and go to Jesus,

He will embrace me in His arms;

In the arms of my dear Savior,

Oh, there are ten thousand charms.

~ Joseph Hart, an 18th century minister who strived to have it all together, 

before he finally fell in desperation at the feet of his Savior.

Redefining Success

I can count on three questions to be asked in every panel and training:

How hard is it really to let go?

How are your own kids impacted?

and...

How many success stories have you seen in your journey?

That final one, it's my trigger. 

I reply, What do you consider success?

Well...a thriving family, no longer dependent on the state or government, no longer supervised. You know; you don't worry if you're gonna get another call about them.

And always, the tears silently fall.

I don't have one. You've got to redefine success.

Blame our culture, society, or the Americanized Church... I'm not sure.

But we've somehow qualified our efforts of ministry with a dependable outcome.

But obedient ministry does not equate success in the world's terms.

Whether we care to acknowledge it or not, we want so badly to plug our faithfulness into an equation.

If we pray the listed prayers and have our children memorize the correct verses, our parenting will produce godly children.

And if we take them on missions trips, that's the icing on top. They may just end up in Africa....missionaries.

If we make ourselves available to our husbands and daily pray for them from our knees, our marriage will be blessed.

The only problem is...some of the most godly mothers I know, are crying out for their wandering adult children from their knees...35 years later.

And some of the most faithful and devoted, prayer-fighting wives...are begging God for their husbands to repent...even after he's left.

If I showed up to my ministry of being a wife, a mother, a friend, a foster mom tomorrow because I was guaranteed a profitable return here on this tangible earth, I would be left desperately aching.

Do I hope for it, pray for it, strive for it with all that I am?

Yes.

Do I stand for it, believe in it, and know that He can accomplish it with all that He is?

Even more so.

But do I recognize that He is sovereign in the petitions He answers with... Not Yet...and even...No?

Do I increasingly grasp that perhaps success is not the trophied finish line, but the faithful fight of today and the obedient response asked of me in the tomorrow?

Is there an abiding realization that His accomplishment is already complete in me as He sees me as His own Son, and my merits are simply an offering of praise...each step in this race of endurance?

So if you ask me how much true success I've seen in our ministry of foster care, I'll smile and tell you through steady tears, abundant success, but not what you would expect.

I've seen parents show up when the world was stacked against them.

I've seen mamas stand in brokenness when they have been stripped of all dignity.

I've see social workers answer the call in the dark hours of the morning, day after day.

I've seen children, survivors, forgive when they don't even understand what that means, and love with an unconditional love I can't even comprehend.

I've seen foster parents with open arms and broken hearts, obey through tears.

I've seen the Church respond to the Call to Rise up.

And, more than anything, I've seen my real mess exposed, so that I can meet the real Jesus again and again.

My Friend, that is success.

Removing the Mask...

O Lord, You have searched me and you know me.

~ Psalm 139:1

I play the part well. 

Don't we all?

Those of us born into this first world of affluence...

Birthed into an arena of privilege.

We delicately craft our masks for the ball.

Fashioned with glitz and flair, anything to keep one another from looking,

From seeing, what lies beneath the shell.

Because what is hidden are the truths that haunt us...

The whispers that awaken our minds in the early morning hours of the night. 

And as we rise to embrace the chaos...

We have somehow owned the false tragedy that to be a Christian is to wear the glamourous mask well...

All the while stifling the seeping darkness, the aching to be deeply known...

To be able to fall at the altar filthy, wreaking of perfumed stench, blemished and broken.

We bite the bullet that silences our souls, purchasing the weapon that tells us...

You will never be enough.

You must be more.

And as we dance our appropriate dances, a hungry world awaits.

Our children watch and study the moves that win our applause.

And a Father's arms reach longingly.

For even the darkness is light to Him.

And our little ones flee in rebellion because they too learn to repeat the mantra,  I will never be enough.

And the broken lost lose heart because all the pennies they scrape together could never earn them a place at the ball, though they would give their lives for it.

Failing to understand that to wear the mask is to sell the soul.

Friend, remove your mask with me.

Know me, and be known.

Perhaps our place on the ladder has heavied our poverty of soul.

Dance with me.

Not the scripted advancement, purposed with an end.

But with abandon and gracious delight...

Twirling to the cadence of the One from whose presence we can never flee.

...That for which you were made.

The World is watching. 

They are waiting on the edge, straining to hear the ancient song stifled by our masks of religion and duty.

They are searching for the tune that reminds them they are fearfully and wonderfully made, designed in a secret place, hemmed in on the wings of the dawn.

So remove your mask with me and dance in His beauty ~

Ancient Paths

But Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed.

~ Luke 5:16

It's the end of a long silence.

The closing of our intentional summer.

I've been quiet on this front...on so many fronts.

In the last months, Jamie and I have found ourselves at this crossroads.

The newness of our calling is gone. We've experienced the firsts, seen God's hand in beautiful ways...

The goodbyes still ache, but they are expected.

The hellos are tragic, but we've learned to prepare.

The grief is deep, but we understand how to walk it.

Yet, this ministry remains so hard.

When the call comes that the child who once called you Mama is returning to care, it doesn't fit into a "box."

When you hear she's been abused again...

The story has repeated itself once more...

When their mama calls to tell you that DHR is beating on her door another time, and she's launching her Hail Mary.

Foster care doesn't feel good.

And this summer ~ in the midst of the sweltering days ~ I've felt this ache to be uncalled.

To return to the simple.

To throw up my hands in cynicism and say they were right...it's not worth it.

We've shared this with people we love ~ who love us ~ and to be honest, the responses haunt me...

You've done your duty. It's okay to back out.

Your season of ministry is finished. Good job. You've worked hard. It's enough that it should last you for a while.

I told you; your efforts would never change anything. These people are different. They are hopeless.

The words fell like daggers to the heart.

So we withdrew for this season, to the lonely places of our hearts, to cry out to our Father.

And He whispered, I am making all things new.

Not all NEW THINGS.

He is restoring the ancient paths...
Rebuilding the age-old foundations...
Unloosing generations of bondage.

Ancient Paths Counseling

You see all of us experience new things...the fresh marriage, the first years as a parent, a career...
His love for us.

But the newness fades with passing days...

The things that delighted us begin to feel like burdens, and Satan twists our excitement to cynicism through the web of ingratitude.

This does not mark the end of our calling...it cannot.

It establishes the beginning of our depth, our pursuit of the ancient paths, when we truly begin to understand the Alpha and Omega.

In the last month I've had three different foster families contact me saying that they are done; this is too hard...They aren't like us.

I've talk with a mama who said her adoption was a mistake. She must let her child go.

I've wept with wives who have said the marriage can't be fixed. It's the end of the line.

Friends, there is no poetic way to say this...

It is not about us, our feelings, or our comfort. 

It is about Jesus.

We are working to display a weight of eternal glory, following our Savior who for the joy set before Him endured the Cross so that we may have life, and life abundantly.

But that does not mean we can simply bow out.

Young or old; rich or poor; educated or uneducated...we do not have the privilege to turn a blind eye to the broken.

We are agents of His mercy, catalysts of change for the Kingdom of God....

The continuing incarnation of Jesus Christ still here on earth.

You are called to the sufferer.

You are commanded to bring the Hope you have been given to weary ones.

You are challenged to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, be a voice for the voiceless, give water to the thirsty, and visit the destitute.

This does not save you, but as you feast on the abundance of the One who longs for you, you will long to make Him known to the nations.

Press into the Father.

Return to the Ancient Paths.

We have.

And in the end His voice is certain, the Lumpkins are missionaries to this strange world of foster care.

Our being, our marriage, our family was designed for this.

Where is He calling you to return to the Ancient Paths?

What does $10,000 mean for TFI Birmingham?

We're entering the final lap of our back-to-school matching challenge...

And there's a major push to the finish line.

Our goal is to equip 150 vulnerable children in crisis situations within the Birmingham area with a strong tangible foundation for the 2014-2015 school year.

Children like Dyshawn will be walking into their kindergarten year with mountains of memories and struggles, yet starting behind does not have to be another insecurity.

Children like Shameka, Swansia and Kyron are on track to begin reading this year, but they will not be allowed to attend school unless they have the necessary supplies and uniforms.

Young men like Kamelle are entering their critical middle school years alone with little to back them up.

All these children and more still need sponsors.

It only takes $75 to provide a child in our city with new shoes, socks, underwear, two school uniforms, a backpack and all necessary supplies.

If you feel called to aid in any portion of this, you may make a tax-deductible donation online here, but please be sure to mark Birmingham TFI where appropriate.

But in addition to these sponsorships, an anonymous donor has committed to matching each contribution dollar for dollar up to the amount of $10,000!

What does this mean for us?

Daily, my partner-in-crime, Kristin, and I are called by DHR requesting help with beds for children being place that day. Your donation purchases the first bed some children have had in years.

When three teenagers who have been waiting for more than 10 years to be adopted finally have the chance to meet their forever family, your donation provides them with fresh clothes and haircuts so they can go with confidence.

This year your donations provided Mothers' Day gifts to more than 30 foster mothers to cheer them on in their calling.

It enabled children to be reunified with their families when it was simply a dresser and a crib standing in the way. 

You provided Christmas delights and back-to-school needs for hundreds of children throughout our city.

You celebrated weary social workers with surprises and meals.

Your donation this week will establish our ability to meet all these needs and more in the coming school year.

Will you join us?

Pray. Share. Give.

Is it worth it?

Wanna know a secret?

I'm a doubter.

I've heard the name of Jesus whispered over me since I before I could talk.

My Bibles are worn from the days I've traced His name with my ink.

But in the stillness of the night, when I'm wrestling to rest from fitting the pieces of the broken puzzle of our calling,

I wonder if it's true.

If it's worth it.

I often read posts from foster parents or ministry leaders claiming the various hardships and trials they encounter, and the question is always posed...

But is it worth it?

"Definitely," they answer.

I know I'm a sinner, but the truth is some days, I want to crawl into the cocoon in my bed, stuff my face with chocolate truffles and drown myself in Coca-Cola and say, No, not a bit.

I know the Truth.

I know what I'm suppose to say.

I suspect what you want me to say.

But I don't perform well with expectations.

So I'm real.

When I can't remember their faces, or when their hand prints have faded from the walls, or when the closing paperwork is shipped and filed...

I wonder what it was worth.

Another case closed. Another child home. Another day done.

My friend, that is foster care.

There are spaces you celebrate, and you know the reunification is healthy. The answer is right. The hope is firm.

And sometimes it happens where the hand prints stay, your name becomes their own, you witness and take part in the lifetime process of healing.

But when you have reached that space, you've crossed the river of foster care and entered another land.

Some of us are asked to remain in the realm of foster care.

To wrestle with the gray areas and the decisions we don't quite understand...

And I tell you, if you don't have it written across your mirror, chiseled into your mind ~

He is God, and I am not.

Despair will gnaw achingly at the hope you profess.

The thing is, as our pastor shared yesterday, when we begin with the doings and actions of man, we will always end with the conclusion that God is the problem.

When the case doesn't go as a I plan, when the healing doesn't come as I desire, when the job falls through and the relationship ends in abandonment again...

If my anchor of Truth has not sunk deeply into my soul, I will drift away.

I must begin with God.

Because the reality is, some days, the only thing that answers the question, Is it worth it?

Is, I obeyed the One who bled for me. 

He told me to say Yes, and His grace empowered me to answer; because on those days, the ruins seem grander than the work at hand.

Photo Credit: NationalReview.com

Because He is Worthy ~

Seven Things I Wish I had Grasped Before Walking the Aisle {and some TMI thrown in}

It was 13 years yesterday.

As I wrapped gifts to celebrate a daughter's birthday, then lined the kitchen table with eight children's dinner plates and waited for baseball practice to end, I felt certain this was not what I had pictured holding my weeping daddy's hand as he walked me slowly down the aisle.

Maybe that's God's mercy...

Maybe that's His humor...

Maybe that's His pursuit...

Whatever it is, I realized there are a few things I wish I had grasped before those doors swung open and I saw this good-looking guy that day...

1. Marriage is not a fairytale ~ Abandon the expectations.

Coming from a couple who was told by our counselor that our Myers Briggs types have the highest percentage of divorce, the imagination of it possibly being a fairytale should have been a joke, but every woman was a little Cinderella once upon a time.

Our first year was dark, like black hole dark. So were our second and third. Jamie and I are polar opposites on every personality test in every area.

Our expectations of one another lined our coffins. There was no way for us not to hit a dead end.

But it was the dead end that saved our lives.

In honesty, it wasn't until Memorial Day 2007 when we wept from our knees beside our bed and surrendered our vision of our marriage, our family, our careers and futures to our Savior that our dance ~ the real one ~ began.

Before then, we had simply been attempting to take one another out by stomping on the others toes the hardest.

2. I'm not Wonder Woman ~ Own that.

Although my anniversary gift would suggest differently...

                  

I'm not, but I really wanted to be for Jamie. That's what you do when you love someone, right?

WRONG.

I crashed and burned early on, and to burn out on the most significant and present relationship in your life is intensely depressing.

After our dead end, we sat down, and I asked, What are the three constants you desire from me {aside from my love for Jesus}? 

Creative dinners? A clean house? A fit body? Intentional motherhood? Lots of sex? A consistent income?

Because Folks, I can't do it all.

Jamie doesn't care if we eat sandwiches every single night of the week; if I have spent my day being an intentional mother, and I'm still ready to jump him when he comes home, he's in heaven on earth.

That doesn't mean we don't ever have dinner, but it did help me prioritize what matters to Jamie and not exhaust myself trying to be all things to all people in my home.

3. Intimacy doesn't just happen ~ Pray for it.

One of my first prayers every, single morning is, God, thrill me to Jamie's touch today.

The Father longs for us to delight in one another in this area, and Satan longs for it to be screwed, twisted and stale.

It is worth fighting and planning for, and the reality is when you have a crazy life, sometimes you've got to plan...

Or at least get locks on your doors that work.

4. You really can't plan your family's growth ~ If God has another plan.

As we drove home from premarital counseling, Jamie said, I think two kids would be perfect. Maybe four or five years apart?

Me: That sounds good. Maybe we could pray about three?

Jamie: Sure, but definitely not more than that.

By the time we had been married five years, we had three sons from three different attempted forms of birth control.

I was a postpartum nightmare walking.

That dead end day, we said it...No more preventing children. We'll leave it to God totally.

I have not been pregnant since that day, and we have not attempted to stop the biological growth of our family in any way, shape or form.

You can throw all your medical books and advice at me, but when it boils down to it, God's going to accomplish His purposes as He sees fit.

And it's beautiful to abandon your dreams to that in the way He calls you to.

5. Marriage does not make your root sins disappear ~ It often accelerates them.

Marriage embodies our deepest achings and longings. It's the fulfillment of companionship, years of relational wandering...the climax of our finally belonging.

In that moment and the months that follow, a little lie implants into our new found spaces of comfort, and the battles we once forged against impurity and recognizing our beauty in Christ become backdrops.

Until the roots unknowingly dig deeper and begin to shift the convenient foundations we've come to know.

Our enemy prowls seeking whom He may devour.

He does not pounce.

He is not irrational.

He stalks and waits and weaves webs of doubt and insecurity.

If we are not sinking deep into the truths of the Word and constantly preaching the Gospel to ourselves, we will be shattered with the raw surprise of sin.

6. Determine your standard of living early on ~ And don't let it creep as your income grows.

One of the first things Jamie said to me in our premarital counseling stage was, We will determine what we need financially to live when we're young and broke, and we will not let our money control us as we grow older.

I thank God for this conversation every day.

Yes, caring for eight children is quite different than when it was just us. It requires a bit more financially.

This does not mean we don't make room to enjoy the money God provides.

It doesn't mean we're intensely frugal {because I stink at frugality}.

But, it does mean we weigh everything that comes our way.

It means we recognize we are simply stewards of God's provision to us.

It means we don't cash in on first-world luxuries because we made it a priority early in our marriage to view our money in a very different way than the culture does.

7. Marriage is not about my happiness ~ It's about Jesus.

I'm can't remember every second of these last 13 years.

I'm not sure where the days, or weeks, or months have gone.

I can guess that the difficulty to number these moments will only accelerate we grow in our married life.

The culture longs to claim these times. Satan longs to mark these moments.

Our marriage is one of the primary things the Father is using to make Jamie and me look like His son.

And we don't look a whole lot like Him right now.

So it's a slow process of chiseling, pounding, hammering...

And most days that doesn't feel good.

But every now and then, Jamie will do something, and it takes my breath away because I see straight through Him to the heart of my Savior.

I sometimes imagine what it will be like to look each other eye to eye one day in the presence of Christ, to utterly grasp that the culmination of every step in this journey we call marriage has simply laid the stepping stones for the eternity for which we were designed.

I want to taste that a little more every day.

Because of Jesus ~

I am not missional...or radical.

A year ago I wrote a post reflecting on a number of articles circulating regarding the dividing line of "radical" or "missional" Christianity.

Recently, I've caught similar opinions and views circulating once again, and I deeply needed to revisit the Truths I know.

When we said we were becoming foster parents, it was interesting how many people commented, You must go to Brookhills. Granted, it was about the time when the church was making a monumental commitment to loving our city's foster care community.

Yet we responded, No. We don't.

Then, when we said yes to Mattie, our beautiful teenage Chinese daughter for a season, as our first placement, I laughed at the amount of times someone said to me, You're doing this because you've read Radical.

{We love you, Coach David, and I did begin the book finally last year after my initial post, but it was a casualty in the 100-day stomach virus, and I haven't gotten another copy.}

My Friends, we are not missional or radical.

We are deeply loved, incredibly cherished, and desperately pursued.

We didn't consciously think, It is not enough to be a family devoted to raising Christ-followers. 

Because that has and always been one of the first and highest callings the Father has placed before us.

BUT...

I remember the darkness of depression.

I recall the imprints that the chains of self-preservation chiseled into my soul.

I know what it was to live without grasping I was passionately loved by my Creator.

And the moment the scales began to peel from my caverned heart...

When the light began to penetrate the corners I thought were buried...

I couldn't help but turn to another and whisper through my tears...

I was made for more. 
You were too. 
There is One who died to to be strong for you.

The Gospel is not stagnant water.

It is a living, breathing river that must go somewhere.

That is the Truth of the hope you have been given.

There is no divider between this Gospel and a missional or radical lifestyle.

When our eyes are opened to the One who has shattered our night, we are no longer our own.

We no longer want to be our own.

We live utterly and completely for another.

The reality of this moves us outwardly in our marriages, towards our children, to our neighbors, our community, the city, our nation, and the world.

Because every, single one of the these spaces is waiting, perched in longing, to hear the the hope for which they were crafted.

Carrying the presence of Christ into an aching world is not a title or a label...

It is your design. It is your purpose. It is your calling.

Because my Friend, she is not a project or a bullet point on my agenda...

She is a daughter of the King of Kings.

But how will they know unless they are told?

And who better to tell than the beggars who have found the bread of life?

Because of Jesus alone ~

To Spark Your Creativity {My Heroes Flashback}

Last year, two little girls took our TFI back-to-school challenge to heart.

It moved me to tears to learn of the ways they spent their summer in order to sponsor children in care who were just like them, just from slightly more challenging backgrounds.

Visit their stories again, and allow your creativity juices to flow on how you can make a small sacrifice to partner with us for this year's $10,000  Matching Challenge in an effort to provide back-to-school needs for our city's children in crisis situations!

Originally posted, August 2013 ~

Meet ELLA...

She's nine years old, in the 4th grade, and she loves to read, play soccer and piano.

Ella was a creative entrepreneur and constantly contrived new ways to meet the goals she felt God had led her to make. 

From Ella...

Hi, my name is Ella. This summer my goal was to raise $100 for foster kids' school supplies. I got my goal, and it was so exciting! First, I sold book marks for $1.00 each. Then I did a lemonade stand. We raised $30! Then, I did chores for the rest of the money. I did this because I wanted foster kids to have school supplies. It made me feel very happy. We also have a foster kid. 

Because of Ella, a little girl began her school journey of preschool with hope and confidence, even though she is terrified of the world swirling around her.

~~~~~~~~~~

Meet ELISABETH... 

She's seven years old, in the second grade, and she loves ballet and horses...

And she sacrificed her summer to love kids just like her, but they just happened to be foster kids.

Elisabeth worked a number of jobs and earned enough money to sponsor a little girl beginning kindergarten this year, in a new home with a new family...a world unknown to her.

From Elisabeth ~

I am so glad I donated this money to help another child in need. I felt like the Lord was calling me to do this. So I did! I hope this will make her feel loved and cared for.

~~~~~~~~~~

To be honest, I had moments this week when I allowed the whispers of the Enemy to become greater than the Truth. I wondered if any of this was scratching the surface and making difference. Then I would glance at these pictures on my computer and remember that Jesus said...

Let the little children come to Me, and do not hinder them. 

For the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to those such as these. 

~Matthew 19:14

Thank you Ella and Elisabeth for being the hands and feet of Jesus. Thank you for being examples of faith to all of us. I'm so honored to call you sisters in Christ Jesus.

Looking to our Savior,

The Matching Challenge

Go ahead and decide you're gonna share this before you even read it :)

You've read here a number of times in regards to our efforts with The Forgotten Initiative.

Nationally, our team works to bring hope and purpose to the foster care community as we meet tangible needs and seek to support the various role players with encouragement.

Though locally our initiatives take many forms throughout the year, our anchor projects and commissions ~ particularly from Jefferson County DHR, who supervises almost 1,500 of the state's 5,500 children in care ~ are Christmas and back-to-school needs.

This year, we have been asked to sponsor 150 school age children for the 2014-2015 school year. Many in Jefferson and Shelby County foster placements and family preservation situations often are unable to attend school until after Labor Day because of financial needs for uniforms and school supplies.

To sponsor one child, you may make a donation of $75. This provides a child with three new uniforms, a new pair of shoes, socks, a backpack, and all needed supplies for the upcoming school year.

That means, we need to raise $11,250 (75 per 150 children) by June 20th.

There was a moment last year when we were asked to provide a lesser amount for the same project by a supervisor.

I looked at my partner Kristin and laughed.

There's no way. We're not to that level yet.

My sweet friend looked at me and said, Let's just see what God does.

We met that goal, surpassed it, and were able to cover the spaces where a number of churches and business had to back out of their commitments.

As a result, more has been asked of us this year.

BUT, an anonymous donor has committed to match all donations for this project through June 20th up to $10,000. Friends, that means every dollar is actually two.

This is a HUGE incentive for us as we begin to plan for our financial support in the coming year.

Would you consider partnering with us? Any amount helps! Consider joining together as a Sunday school class or small group! Hold a lemonade stand as a family or a garage sale!

You can make your tax deductible donations out to LIFESONG FOR ORPHANS and note Birmingham TFI in the memo line. Then send to:

The Forgotten Initiative
PO Box 40
Gridley, IL 61744

OR!

You may also donate online by going to: www.theforgotteninitiative.org/get-involved/donate, but please be sure to mark BIRMINGHAM.

Whether you are able to support financially or not, would you commit to pray?

1. For children in foster care placements currently removed from their homes.

2. For families in crisis situations, under DHR and government supervision.

3. For the social workers who labor endlessly on behalf of these children and families. Pray that their hope and vision would be restored.

4. For the judges who make critical, life-changing decisions on behalf of children in care. It is God who turns the hearts of judges. Pray that they would hear the deepest needs of these children and rule accordingly.

5. For us as we seek to faithfully and creatively answer the call to empower those involved in the realm of foster care.

And know always, we cannot do this alone. We were never meant to do this alone. We need you.

Don't forget to share!

Looking to Jesus, the Author and Perfecter of our Faith ~

When the World doesn't quite understand...

"Road not Taken" by Robert Frost, 1916 ~ TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. He didn't write it for himself, but for war buddy who always second-guessed the choices he had made. Yet, I watched a Christmas day interview from years ago, and Frost was asked, What are your greatest regrets? He responded simply by quoting this timeless classic. Once upon a time, I wanted to grow up to make you happy, to make you approve, to make you proud. Perhaps you were family, maybe an acquaintance, or leadership in church. Maybe you were simply a stranger I met, and I simply wanted to be known. I sought strived after the checklist I was certain would meet the requirements of my attaining your recognition: the career, the husband with status, the appearance, the clothes, the house, the car...the endless spinning wheels of emptiness. Then one day I heard it from our pastor's wife, Wendy Allison. She quoted Jonah 2:8, Those who cling to worthless idols, forfeit the grace that could be theirs.  And in an instant I was naked, gutted...and free. Because earning the false grace of this world and its approval had cost my very identity, my soul. Suddenly, owning that truth, forced me to come clean. As a recent Need to Breathe songs says, there is a deep broken beauty in "surrendering to your design." Lovethispic.com And, dear World,  I was never designed to meet your approval or expectations. I was crafted to be beckoned to a call that shatters your boxes, mystifies your understanding, defies your boundaries... I was woven together for the One who {as Andrew Peterson sings} defeated Death at Death's own game... My addiction of reputation and recognition had brought me death upon death...the pending death of my marriage, my vision of motherhood, my hope, my longings, my dreams... And that day I returned home, surrendering the idols that had kept me alive, to their Death...those things I thought this world needed from me... And as Jonah wrote...their death, brought grace to life. In turn, He's invited me ~ me ~ to bring that same grace to the darkness of those who thought their stories had ended. From the outside looking in ~ There are days my life does not make sense.  There are moments you wish our adventure was over.  It would be more comfortable for you...and for me. But my Friend, remember, we were not made for this world. We were made to look like Jesus. We are clothed in His righteousness now. And, one day the hammering and chiseling will be complete for us to be fully like Him. That is worth the death of every idol. And that is worth the cost of taking the path less traveled because it will make all the difference. Because of Jesus ~