Midweek Meditation Revisited - Be Inspired!!!

I used to have a regular feature. Each Wednesday or Thursday I would take a moment to post something, aside from adoption, designed to boost our walk with Christ. Sometimes write-ups, sometimes videos from YouTube, sometimes personal experiences. But as life moved from regular to incredibly random as our school year ended and our house sold, Midweek Meditation faded, then dropped off completely.

I miss it.

So, today, I am bringing it back. (Drum-roll, please!)

Each year our denomination hosts a conference - a spiritual get-together where people/families from around the country, and sometimes the world, unite for several days of spiritual instruction, prayer, and fellowship. We always look forward to these. This year it will be held at the Cohutta Springs Conference Center in Crandall, Georgia. The theme is, "Here Am I, Send Me."

I have been asked to cohost one of the afternoon meetings focusing on missions work. I have been compiling quotes from missionaries for the powerpoint portion of our presentation and have been incredibly blessed by what I've read. I just have to share!

Read these and be blessed!

"If a commission by an earthly king is considered an honor, how can a commission by a Heavenly King be considered a sacrifice?" - David Livingstone

“In the vast plain of the north, I have sometimes seen, in the morning sun, the smoke of a thousand villages where no missionary has ever been.” Robert Moffat

“We talk of the Second Coming; half of the world has never heard of the First.” Oswald J. Smith

“Some wish to live within the sound of a chapel bell, I wish to run a rescue mission within a yard of hell.” C. T. Studd

“I have but one candle of life to burn, and I would rather burn it out in a land filled with darkness than in a land flooded with light.” John Falconer

“The command has been to “Go” but we have stayed … in body, gifts, prayer and influence.”

“You can give without loving. You cannot love without giving.” Amy Carmichael

“The mark of a great church is not its seating capacity, but its sending capacity.” Mike Stachura

“Would that God would make hell so real to us that we cannot rest, and heaven so real that we must have men there.” J. Hudson Taylor

"The Great Commission1 is not an option to be considered; it is a command to be obeyed" — Hudson Taylor

"Never pity missionaries; envy them. They are where the real action is — where life and death, sin and grace, Heaven and Hell converge." — Robert C. Shannon

"Any church that is not seriously involved in helping fulfill the Great Commission has forfeited its biblical right to exist." — Oswald J. Smith

"If God calls you to be a missionary, don't stoop to be a king" — Jordan Grooms (variations of this also credited to G. K. Chesterson, Thomas Carlyle and Charles Haddon Spurgeon)

"If you found a cure for cancer, wouldn't it be inconceivable to hide it from the rest of mankind? How much more inconceivable to keep silent the cure from the eternal wages of death." — Dave Davidson

"The vineyard includes the whole world, and every part of it is to be worked. There are places which are now a moral wilderness, and these are to become as the garden of the Lord. The waste places of the earth are to be cultivated, that they may bud and blossom as the rose." Ellen White

"Prayer is the mighty engine that is to move the missionary work." — A.B. Simpson

"The will of God — nothing less, nothing more, nothing else." — F. E. Marsh (also attributed to Bobby Richardson)

"If the Great Commission is true, our plans are not too big; they are too small." — Pat Morley

"The history of missions is the history of answered prayer." — Samuel Zwemer

"The gospel is only good news if it gets there in time" — Carl F. H. Henry

"The best remedy for a sick church is to put it on a missionary diet." — Unknown

“Every great work of God, first is impossible, then it is difficult, and then it is done.” Hudson Taylor

"All the money needed to send and support an army of self-sacrificing, joy-spreading ambassadors is already in the church." — John Piper

"I believe that in each generation God has called enough men and women to evangelize all the yet unreached tribes of the earth. It is not God who does not call. It is man who will not respond!" — Isobel Kuhn, missionary to China and Thailand

"Go, send, or disobey." — John Piper

"He is no fool who gives up what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose" — Jim Elliot, missionary martyr who lost his life in the late 1950's trying to reach the Auca Indians of Ecuador

"Christ wants not nibblers of the possible, but grabbers of the impossible." — C.T. Studd

"No one has the right to hear the gospel twice, while there remains someone who has not heard it once." — Oswald J. Smith

"God uses men who are weak and feeble enough to lean on him." — Hudson Taylor, missionary to China

"One soul is of more value to heaven than a whole world of property, houses, lands, money. For the conversion of one soul we should tax our resources to the utmost." Ellen White

“This gospel of the kingdom will be preached in the whole world as a testimony to all the nations and then the end will come.” Jesus

“Here am I. Send me.” You :)

What I Missed

Sometimes time passes much too quickly. Sometimes time doesn't seem to go fast enough. And sometimes I just wish time would stand still and let me linger in the moment.

Yesterday, Quinn turned 23.

As I sit here writing this, my mind reels at the amount of time that has passed and how much he has grown up, and, somehow, I can't help feeling a little cheated.

I missed sitting next to his bassinet in the NICU unit due to the respiratory failure he suffered as a newborn.

I missed his first smile, his first steps, his first word.

I missed kissing away his first boo-boo, praying away his first nightmare, and calming his first fear.

I missed his first day of school, his first swim lesson, his first best friend.

I met him when he was only five. Having been placed in over ten foster homes already, he was a new placement in the group home where my sister volunteered. But she was not content with just visiting Quinn at the group home, she brought him home with her. And I promptly fell in love.

For the next four years, Quinn visited us regularly. During that time, my sister married and moved away, so I kept up the visits. When I couldn't go, my mom went. We adored him.

Finally, when he was nine, after jumping through many hoops, they allowed me to officially bring him home as a foster child. It would be two more years before I could finally adopt him.

But those years of foster care and group home care had left terrible scars upon his heart.

How do you learn to trust when the most important people in your life have not kept their promises?

How do you form attachments when the people in your life keep changing?

How do you fit into a family when you've never had one?

And so the battles began...

For the next seven years we stumbled along the path of healing, experiencing every emotion possible in the process - white hot rage, sorrow, joy, failure, success, peace, frustration, hope, love.

Sometimes I would lie in bed at night and, as the tears spilled down my cheeks, count the years left until he turned 18. Would we make it? Would we survive? I didn't know. I could only hope and pray. And pray. And pray. And pray...

Raising Quinn was hard.

It was frustrating.

It was good.

It was beautiful.

It

was

worth

it!

Today, I look back and am amazed at how fast it all went. Those frustrations? Those moments of discouragement? Those hard spots? Gone.

Quinn's all grown up now and lives far away. I miss him. Oh, how I miss him. I miss that little boy who used to cuddle with me when no one was looking. I miss his little hand in mine. I miss our good-night hugs. I miss reading stories to him. I miss the time I missed with him. And I simply hate it that I only got him for half of his childhood. But in my heart I know, that given the chance, I would do it all over again.

Sometimes time passes much too quickly. Sometimes time doesn't seem to go fast enough. Sometimes I wish time would stand still and let me linger in the moment for just a

little.

while.

longer.

Happy Birthday, Quinn!

Love, Your Mom

Orphans in a Land of No Freedom

Today is Independence Day.

The Fourth of July.

A memorial of our freedom as a country and as individuals.

A special day indeed.

Today we will eat our fill of potato salad and corn on the cob and watermelon.

We will enjoy the company of friends and family.

We will laugh.

We will sing.

We will celebrate.

And in all of our joy we might forget those who are not as free.

Those who suffer under unfriendly governments that severely limit

every word,

every thought,

every action,

even if that action is one of kindness.

Like caring for the orphans of North Korea

Who are routinely cleared off the streets like garbage.

Locked away in prisons like criminals.

Used in forced labor camps as slaves.

And forgotten.

Please take a moment today,

in the midst of your joyous festivities,

to bow your heads and remember

God's forgotten children.

Those who do not yet know the blessings of the freedom we celebrate today, but, with God's help, someday will.

Please take a moment to watch this video message from a former North Korean orphan who is now fighting for the lives of other North Korean orphans.



Have a blessed and safe Fourth of July.

My Favorite Four-Letter Word of the Day

We moved everything out of our house and into storage while we wait for our new place to become ready. For the time being, we are "camping out" with friends. The girls find this all ridiculously exciting. I, on the other hand, am looking forward to being settled again -
soon.

But for now, I'm just excited that the house is officially
SOLD!

Boxfuls of Memories

We're moving!!! After much waiting, nail biting, praying, and more waiting, we are actually moving. We have boxes piling up around the house and bags of stuff heading out the door to Goodwill. We're walking down memory lane. "Remember this?!" is heard often around our house as treasured relics are drug out of dark closets and once again shown the light of day.

It's those memories that come back one by one and whisper in my ear as I pack up random objects.

While folding Maya's pink and lavender crib blanket, I remember bringing our three girls home. I can still remember tucking them into bed that first night. My heart was completely overwhelmed yet bursting with happiness all at the same time.

Maya learned to talk here.

Alyssa broke through her shell here.

And Nikki learned to trust here.

The house that had once seemed almost too big and too quiet, was quickly filled with the squeals, laughter, screams, and happy chatter of three little girls settling in.

A greeting card with Korean writing flutters to the floor. I pick it up and remember the call we received requesting that we host two Korean high school, non-English speaking students whom we had never met. Somehow we squeezed them in. Eight people in a four-bedroom, two bathroom house for three months! We taught them English. They taught us about Korea and its beautiful culture. We laughed and loved some more. When the time came to send them back home, I could hardly believe how attached we had all become in such a short time. Tears flowed freely at the airport.

Glancing out the window, I notice a fresh crop of weeds. Last year Billy stayed part of a summer with us and removed all of them on one hot, sweaty afternoon. We'd hoped he would stay longer. But, he enjoys his quiet and that is something we are in short supply of at our house.

Removing the photos stuck to my refrigerator door, I smile at the picture of chubby, little Edward. Kirrisa had her baby-shower for him here. We all patted her belly and loved on her little one, even though we hadn't met him yet. Now she is expecting baby number two.

Packing away birthday supplies reminds me of my dad's 80th birthday party that was held here. Friends and family gathered around to celebrate his life and their friendship with him. Now, he battles cancer and we are uncertain of how much longer we will be able to have him with us. I shake my head, pushing that dark thought quickly away.

We've outgrown this house. It's time to move on. But as the house empties the echoes that remain are those memories of happy days spent here. I know we will make many new ones at the next house, but just to be on the safe side, I'm boxing up all the memories we made here and bringing them with us.

Good-bye old house! Thanks for the memories!

Fashionably Challenged

Before leaving the privacy of our home and entering the public domain,

I always

inspect/correct/modify

my children's attire.


Is their hair neat?

Are their clothes clean?

Are they dressed appropriately for

the present weather conditions

or

function

we will be attending?


DO THEIR CLOTHES MATCH?!


This last one is a biggie since,

and I won't name names,

some of my children are a bit

"fashionably challenged."

Anyone else encounter this in your home?

It Could Have Been Awkward...

The food was spread on the green table cloth. Pink and yellow flowers adorned the center of the table. Hanging from the spreading branches of a nearby oak tree a pony pinata awaited its inevitable fate. Maya beamed! This was her birthday party and she was excited!!!

Soon, family and friends began to arrive and the introductions began. "Maya, this is your cousin," her birthmother smiled. Maya hung back a little. She has always been shy around new people, even if they are related to her. I nudged her gently and whispered, "Say, 'hello.'"

The emotional struggle over whether or not we should continue contact with the girls' birth mother had originally been a difficult one for me. And, while planning Maya's party, I found there were still some internal battles yet to be fought. Do we allow Maya's birth mother to invite members of her family to attend? If so, how many? Will it be awkward having members of her family and our family together?

We decided to invite Maya's birth mother to ask various members of her family to attend and also to help provide financially for the party. She did both. At the party four cousins and her mother (the girls' grandmother) attended. After the initial, rather formal introductions, we ate, played games, broke open the pinata, unwrapped gifts, smiled, and laughed together. It was almost as if we were all part of one big family.



When it was over and the goodbyes were said, I breathed a sigh of relief. Everything was okay. My sister caught my eye and smiled, "It went very well." Her words echoed my thoughts. Maya had bounced between adoptive and birth family with ease, smiling all the while. Although we all arrived with our own set of adult-sized apprehensions, they were all put aside for the love of a child. Maya had her special day and we were all happy to be a part of it.

Open adoption does not work in every case. But there are times when all adults involved can, with God's help, put away their own fears and focus on the child's needs and make it work. That is when the child really benefits. I never understood that before, but I am learning it day by day. Maya's smile is helping me.

Foster Care Heritage

Growing up, the term "foster child" was common in our home. After all, it described the childhoods of our mother, uncle, and aunt. We had three grandmothers, when all our friends had only two, and a host of relatives. We never really distinguished who was a biological relative and who wasn't. It didn't really matter to us. We just knew we were loved by a lot of people.

It wasn't until I was grown and a foster mother myself that I began to fully grasp the trauma involved in all of it. At the age of twelve, my mother and her sister, age 10 at the time, were taken away from their biological parents, separated from their brother, and placed in a stranger's home. They had not come from a violent family or a family with substance abuse problems, as is commonly the case today. Rather, their family was quite poor and, according to my biological great grandmother, not fully capable of raising their children to adulthood. Great-grandma, who was already caring for another grandchild, stepped in, contacted authorities, and the move was made. My mother, aunt, and uncle became wards of the state.

It was in foster care that my mom and her sister met Jesus. They each made the decision to give their lives to Him and trust Him with the things they could not understand. Eventually, my aunt married a missionary and had three children. (They now have three grandchildren.) My uncle and his wife of 50+ years have one son and one granddaughter. And, of course, my mom married my dad. In December, 2007, they celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary, surrounded by their five children, thirteen grandchildren, and a host of friends and relatives -- including members of Mom's foster family.

As an adult, Mom reunited with her biological family, but she never lost contact with the family that helped raise her. She called two women, "Mom," who were gracious enough to acknowledge each other's role in her life. (Both dads were deceased by this time.) She is called "Aunt Evelyn" by both biological and foster nieces and nephews. We have aunts, uncles, and cousins who share no blood ties with us, yet are just as close as those who do. We laugh together at weddings, anniversaries, reunions, and bridal/baby showers. We cry with each other at funerals and memorial services. We email and Facebook and visit and share. It's what families are supposed to do.

On one of my visits with Grandma I asked her why she had become a foster parent. She told me she had once seen a little girl with a torn and dirty dress, disheveled hair, and empty eyes. Her heart broke for that little girl. Then and there, she promised God that one day, if she were able, she would open her heart and home to children in need. Over the years she made good on her promise.

By the time Andie (who is now 16!) made me a mom, Grandma's health was fading. She had become legally blind and had to be moved to a care facility. Not knowing how much longer we'd have her with us, my mom and I decided another trip to Denver was necessary. I had one burning desire -- to introduce Andie to Grandma as soon as possible.

At their meeting, Grandma's face lit up. Andie hung back a little, but Grandma knew just how to melt the ice. She rummaged through her cupboard and found a cookie! In no time, Andie was feeling right at home. After enjoying Andie for a bit, Grandma turned her face towards mine, "You will never regret this," she smiled.

About seven months later, Grandma was gone. Her great, big, loving heart stopped. Her hands, which had blessed so many lives with her care, comfort, and good cooking, were still. Her smile faded and her quick laugh was silent. A stone slab now marks the place where she awaits the resurrection.

But her legacy lives on.


Four generations! Two sets of foster moms and daughters.

Then I heard a voice from heaven say, "Write: Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on." "Yes," says the Spirit, "they will rest from their labor, for their deeds will follow them.
Revelation 14:13.

Sitting On Pins and Needles

Every once in awhile something comes into your life that seems entirely too good to be true. We are sitting on the threshold of a moment like that right now.

Waiting.

Checking our emails.

Jumping whenever the phone rings.

Sitting on pins and needles.

Giddy.

Distracted.

Hopelessly distracted!

Jittery and a little unsure.

Oh, please, please, God, let it be true!

Happy Mother's Day!

This year I have been truly blessed to discover the blogging community. To meet other mothers and hear their stories and learn from them has been priceless. I wish all of you a most wonderful Mother's Day!