Fundraising for Perpetuity

This is the deal...

We seem to continually find ourselves in fundraising mode. Either we are raising money to bring orphans here or we are beginning an adoption process or we are helping someone else fundraise to meet their hosting/adoption goals. And as much as I have kicked and screamed and fought it, I have finally come to accept it as a regular and blessed part of our lives.

Soooo...

I started thumbing through some of my kids' artwork and photographs that I have saved throughout the years. My girls and I imagined them as tee shirts, mugs, key chains, and more. The more we talked, the more my kids got excited about it all -- especially the part about getting to keep a portion of the profits. How cool is that?! They are paid designers before they can even get a driver's license!

I have no definite long term plans for these products. They're being sold on a first-come, first-buy basis. We first want to raise the money we need for our homestudy and upcoming adoption. Then, depending on how well everything goes, we'll use it to help other families adopt as well.

Check out a sample design HERE, make an order, and/or let us know what you think.

It was the Christians...

This!

This needs to be framed and hung on the walls of every church building in America.

"When I grew up in the orphanage it was Christians who came and built nicer buildings. Christians who bought us beds, clothing, and provided money monthly for food. It was a Christian who wrote a letter in a shoebox, who first told me I was loved. It was the Christians who met all my physical and material needs in that orphanage.

"But it was also Christians who neglected my biggest need. Children in orphanages don't need more money, nicer buildings, or better clothes. I am not an orphan because I lost my home or provisions. I am an orphan because I lost my parents. I needed a mom and a dad. I needed a family. Christians treated all my temporary symptoms of need but never cured my long term disease of being an orphan. I am still an orphan."

-A quote from a 30-year-old orphan who aged out of an orphanage where he had lived his whole life; spoken at the CAFO Summit 2013

What Does a Family Look Like?

When people think of a family, this is probably what initially comes to mind...



Or this...


Or this...


A family might also look like this...


Or this...


But what if sisters look like this...?


Or brothers like this...?


What if siblings looked like this...?


The truth is, a family can look like any and all of the above. A family can be built by birth or adoption, or both. Either way a family unit is God's gift to us that we may experience a little of what His love is.

"God sets the lonely in families." Psalms 68:6

Missing Daddy

Daddy left for two weeks. In a little over eight years of marriage, it's been his first trip away from home. I can't say I like it much.

Coming home from the airport, even the noise of the children didn't cover the deafening silence of his absence. The house felt strangely empty. Alone.

There's a cold spot in bed next to me. There's too much quiet in the evening after the kids go to sleep. There's no one to toss the little ones up in the air. And I'm really hoping I don't kill his fish that he so trustingly left in my care.

I began motherhood as a single mom, adopting two children before marrying him (see My Birthday Letter to Andie). It's just been a while since I've been alone for this much time. And phone calls do not replace having him here! Physically, I can manage everything I usually do at home. But, my heart feels like it's pumping at half the power.

It'll be good to have him back again.

The Least of These...

"On the street I saw a small girl, cold and shivering in a thin dress, with little hope of a decent meal. I became angry and said to God, 'Why did you permit this? Why don't you do something about it?' For a while God said nothing.

"That night God replied... 'I certainly did something about it...I made YOU.'" -- Adapted from Latin America's Casa Alianza, which cares for homeless children



"The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me." Matthew 25:40.

My Birthday Letter to Andie

Andie,

You are my first child, but the second oldest in the family. (Adoption can make a family funny that way.) You are my dream-come-true, but I was so nervous when the call came asking if I would take a two-year-old who bit and threw tantrums. I was a basket-case by the time they knocked on my door. What had I gotten myself into?

You were so tiny and vulnerable. The social worker put you down on my floor. Two plastic grocery bags contained all your earthly possessions -- diapers, a doll, and some clothes. After signing some papers, the social worker left. Just another day on the job for her. But for you and me, it was the first day of being a family.

You stood still beside the couch, quietly looking me over. My stomach was in knots. Did I know what I was doing raising a child by myself? I had signed up for foster care classes so confidently--all smiles. And now? Here you finally were in my house and I was at a complete loss. "What am I going to do with you?" I whispered as I sank to my knees in front of you. Your dark brown eyes looked intently into mine. Then, slowly, you walked over to me, put your arm around my neck, and hugged me. "Yes, that's right!" I smiled, holding you tight. "I'm going to love you!"

Suddenly everything was clear again. We would take one day at a time. God would lead and we would follow. You and me. That's how this family started. And that's how this family has grown.

One year later, Quinn joined us and became your nine-year-old big brother. You called him "Tin," and adored him. And then you fought with him. And then you adored him. And then ... well... you remember. :)

And then one day, you realized our happy little family was missing something very important. We had no daddy! So you took it upon yourself to pray a daddy into our family. For three years you prayed. Every morning and evening, at every meal, at every church function, during prayer request time at school, at every opportunity you asked God to give you a daddy. It became a little embarrassing for Quinn and me, but you were relentless!

And God answered your prayer. Eight years ago, Daddy and I got married. You were the flower girl and a happier flower girl there never was. When Daddy and I got into the car to head off for our honeymoon, you pranced out towards us wearing your dress and my veil. You told me you loved me and gave me a single white flower. You were no longer my little princess, you had become our little princess.

The years have flown by. Quinn is grown and on his own. We have three new girls in our family and who knows how many more to come. Today you turned sixteen. You are my helper, my friend, my daughter. You are an incredibly caring and loving young woman and I am so proud to be a part of your life. I'm looking forward to seeing what God will do in the next sixteen years of your life and beyond!

Hugs and kisses,

Mom

Waiting ...

I am a doer. From the minute my feet hit the floor in the morning until the last hour of the day, my brain and hands are in constant motion. It is when I am required to wait for something, that I struggle the most.

Waiting, for me, is discouraging. If I can push, grunt, and struggle towards a goal, I am content. But to wait, to stand still and watch life pass by, is sheer misery. It is when I begin to fall apart. I question myself. I question God. I whine. I complain. I doubt.

I've read the Bible verses. I've even quoted them to others trying to encourage them as they wait. But, I am ashamed to say, I still have not yet learned how to wait well. And so, God is giving me another chance to learn this lesson. I am waiting again.

We want to adopt again. It started as a small flicker of a desire in our hearts about a month ago and has slowly begun to burn with greater intensity. We have not yet contacted an adoption agency, because we are still stuck in the questions. Where do we adopt from? How many? Boys? Girls? Ages? How will our girls respond to another child or two at home? How will we raise the money? And, suddenly I am overwhelmed.

I've come to realize something about waiting. Waiting periods are the time when the foundation of a dream is being laid. It is the time when God prepares us -- physically, mentally, and spiritually -- for our next adventure in faith.

And so I wait for God's answers to come. I don't know yet the path we will walk, but I do know that God is preparing us for the journey. In faith, I reach up my hand to grasp His and hear His promise, "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11.

Midweek Meditation

Osiyo! Thought I'd post this song in the Cherokee language for my Midweek Meditation in honor of my daughters' Cherokee heritage. The Cherokee National Holiday is held over Labor Day weekend at their headquarters in Oklahoma, and, although, we live far from there, we celebrate too by spending the day learning about Cherokee history, language, culture, and cuisine (only the vegetarian part though).

It is believed that this song originated somewhere along the Trail of Tears, when the Cherokee Nation was uprooted from their tribal lands and forced westward. Called "Orphan Child," it is a simple reminder that we are all orphans in need of adoption by our Heavenly Father, whose love encompasses all nations, tribes, and people.

"After this I looked and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and in front of the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands." Revelation 7:9.




This is performed by the Cherokee National Youth Choir. You can hear more of their work here:

Tears of the Orphan

143,000,000 orphans worldwide and counting ...




"Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world." James 1:27.

The Long Trip Home

The trip home from Georgia was long and filled with delays. We left my sister's house at 10 a.m. Eastern time and arrived home at 2 a.m. Pacific time (5:00 a.m. Eastern time). A total of 19 hours of travel time is hard on anyone, but even more difficult when you are only four. Or maybe it's the other way around!

The first leg of our journey was relatively uneventful. A pleasant stop at American Girl Doll store in Atlanta preceded our arrival at the airport. Maya picked out her souvenir and I chose for the other girls left home with dad. At the airport I decided to check in curbside. Plans changed when Maya told me she needed to use the restroom ... now!

No problem. It wasn't too hard to hurry with two suitcases, two carry-ons, a purse, and a booster seat OR even to pack them all into the stall with us. A near-miss, but we made it and emerged from the stall all smiles. Off we sailed to check-in at the counter.

One-and-a-half pounds overweight on checked-in luggage would cost me an extra $50. I had to quickly reshuffle. I would now carry that one-and-a-half pounds onto the plane myself. After lugging my baggage over to a cart (they wouldn't take it at the counter) we were off to security.

Oops! The security officer noticed I had no boarding slip. Back to the check-in counter Maya and I walked with our two carry-ons, including the extra one-and-a-half pounds of stuff in them. Waited politely for the person in front to finish, requested the boarding slip which the ticket agent insisted she'd already given me. Back to the security line at a slightly quicker pace. In the interim, the line had grown from one single line to three. Waited again. Smiled politely at the fellow cattle, ahem, passengers, shuffling along beside me. And then...

Broke into a sweat getting off shoes, sweaters, opening the laptop, and sliding everything through the x-ray machine under the scrutinizing eye of security agents and with the collective breath of the masses behind me hot on my neck. Took a deep breath as I padded barefoot and undignified through the metal detector. Then repeated the above process trying to re-collect my belongings, plus that extra one-and-a-half pounds which had begun to feel a lot heavier, off the conveyor belt. Then to find our gate...

Maya informed me she was hungry as we jogged towards our gate. I made her all kinds of promises IF we could just make it to the plane on time. I was beginning to worry a little. Engaged in a delightful conversation with a missionary's widow on the shuttle towards our gate. Maya attempted to stand without holding onto the safety rails. Not a good idea.

We arrived at the gate just as they were summoning the last two boarding zones. We'd made it! I was feeling a little wobbly in the knees. Maya promptly began a conversation with the man sitting next to us. I wasn't really in the mood to meet anyone at the moment. But Maya was insistent.

Santiago turned out to be pleasant enough. He and his wife are trying for children. The subject of adoption came up and suddenly, I was all ears. The quick flight to Charlotte was uneventful. I shared some information with Santiago, which he jotted down, and we were off.

Charlotte at last. A leisurely lay-over awaited us and we browsed through various shops. Maya was fascinated by all the people who rushed past us. Those waiting for our plane seemed especially friendly. I had no idea they were angels in disguise.

A big man introduced himself as "Big Bird" when Maya asked. A mother traveling with her two teen-age sons, Kendal and Riley, sat across the aisle from us in the plane. We smiled politely to each other as the plane backed out from the gate. And then ...

The pilot's voice informed us a repair was needed. It wouldn't take long, he assured us. Not more than an hour ... or so. We were free to leave the plane and walk around the airport while the repair was completed. Noooooo! I thought. Maya simply bounced on the seat next to me waving her miniature Disney princess figurines to Kendal and Riley.

For the next two hours we wandered aimlessly through gift shops. Maya waved at every fellow passenger she recognized from our plane. (I had never talked to so many people on one airplane in my life!) She informed "Big Bird" that our plane was "sick" and needed to be fixed. Riley and Kendal entertained her for much of the time. They seemed to have more energy than I did at the moment.

Mercifully, they transferred us to a new plane. After a bit more across-the-aisle banter between Kendal, Riley, and Maya, everyone settled down for the flight home. Home! What a sweet thought, I mused, as I drifted off to sleep with Maya snuggled on my lap.

And somewhere during our flight, while we slumbered peacefully up in that starry sky, Maya peed on me.



P.S. A big thank you to Kendal, Riley, and "Big Bird," for being so helpful and kind! May we be blessed to meet more like you.

Borrowed Blog

The following is from a blog I read recently. It is, I believe, an excellent answer for why we choose to adopt, especially the last paragraph. It is written by a young, single woman who has adopted 14 daughters from Uganda ... so far. She is also a teacher there. I hope you are as blessed by this as I was. For more information on her work in Uganda visit amazima.org or click the "Amazima" link on the left of this blog.

Teenagers and a Lesson from Jacob

I come to you humbly asking for prayer. Especially for my three oldest daughters, and for wisdom for me! All mommas know it: teenagers are hard. Three teenage girls are harder. Three teenage girls from different tribes and cultures and pasts trying to live together in one bedroom are harder still.

In an effort to be real, I want to tell you. Adoption is wonderful and beautiful and the greatest blessing I have ever experienced. Adoption is also HARD and painful. Adoption of older children is a beautiful picture of redemption. It is the GOSPEL in my living room. And some times, it just stinks.

As a parent, it stinks to not know when your daughter took her first steps or what her first word was or what she looked like in Kindergarten. It stinks not to know where she slept and whose shoulder she cried on and what the scar on her eyebrow is from. It stinks to know that for ten years of her precious life you were NOT the shoulder she cried on or the Mommy she hugged.

As a child, it stinks to remember your biological parents’ death, no matter how much you love your new Mom. It stinks to have your mom be a different color than you because, inevitably, people are going to ask why. It stinks that your Mom wasn’t there for all the times you had no dinner and all the times you were sick and all the times you needed help with your homework. It stinks when you have to make up your birthday. It skinks when you can’t understand the concept of being a family forever because your first family wasn’t forever.

And every single day, it is worth it. Because ADOPTION IS GOD’S HEART. He sets the lonely in families. Adoption is the reason that I can come before God’s throne and beg Him for mercy, because He predestined me to be adopted as His child through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will— to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given us in the One he loves.

My family, adopting these children, it is not optional. It is not my good deed for the day, it is not what I am doing to “help these poor kids out.” I adopt because God commands me to care for the orphans and the widows in their distress. I adopt because to whom much has been given, much will be demanded. I adopt because whoever finds his life will lose it but whoever loses his life for HIS sake will find it.

Some days, my friends, it is not easy. Today, it is not easy. The HURT in my daughters’ hearts is big and real and as their mother, I want to fix it and know that I CAN’T. So I lay it at the feet of my Father and rejoice to know that if we are children, then we are heirs - of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in His sufferings - in order that we may also share in His glory. And I call out to the Holy Spirit knowing that He is able to save completely those who come to God through Him, because He always lives to intercede for us.

A sweet friend pointed me yesterday to Genesis Chapter 33. Esau and Jacob are meeting for the first time in a long time. As Jacob approaches Esau, with his many children following close behind, Esau asks,“And who are these with you?”

Jacob’s reply:“These are the children that the Lord saw fit to bless me with.”

We get all the questions. “Why do you do it?” “Why so many?” “How in the world…” “Why these specific girls?” “Why the number 14?” “Do you think its ok to adopt as a single Mother? Don’t they need a father too?” “Do you think they will have issues since you are not the same race?” We also get the compliments. “I don’t know how you do it!” “Good job!” “You must be so responsible!” “Your girls must be so well behaved.” We get crazy stares and huge smiles and every look in between.

Adoption is beautiful. Adoption is hard. Adoption is the Gospel of Christ and the promise of God’s love and redemption lived out in our lives. So I ask for your prayers. Prayers for understanding and peace and trust and the power of God that is more than all I can ask or imagine. And to the questions and the comments and the compliments, this is my reply: “These are the children that the Lord saw fit to bless me with.”

Adoption Lullaby

Beautiful Adoption Story

I've spent way too long trying to figure out how to show videos on my blog (frustrating). So I'm going to just put this into this post. You need to see this story!

The Blind Side

I'm not a football fan. I'm not a Sandra Bullock fan. I'm not even a Tim McGraw fan. But after watching this, I am a big Tuohy fan.

The Tuohy's were a rather ordinary Christian family until the day God asked them to do something very out of the ordinary. He asked them to care for one of His bigger kids who needed a family. (By bigger I mean 6-foot, 4-inches, and 310 pounds!)  When the Tuohy's opened their home and hearts to Michael Oher, they had no idea of the journey they were embarking upon. They did, however, know Who would be directing it. Placing their complete trust in their Heavenly Father, they started out on the road less traveled and graciously left a path for others to follow.

Cautions:
1) A couple scenes where cussing is used, some with a bit of violence. (He did grow up on the wrong side of the tracks.)
2) One very modest bedroom scene, but I still won't let my younger kids watch it.
3) Why couldn't they dress Sandra Bullock more modestly?!

Handprints on My Heart

Everyone has a passion -- something that drives and gives them purpose in life. Some enjoy nothing more than curling up with a good book and slipping away into another life spelled out upon the pages before them. Others thrill to the adrenaline rush and heart-pounding excitement of excelling at an athletic competition. And still others seek to better the world by bravely exposing evil and changing things for the better.

My passion is kids. Over the years I have worked with hundreds of children -- either through teaching, volunteering, foster care, or as is the case for five very special kids, adoption. Seeing the world through their eyes, watching their lives unfold day by day, and guiding their development is my highest privilege. It is my joy. It is my heart.

Each child who has walked with me in my life's journey, either for a moment or a life time, has left something behind -- a little handprint on my heart.