Posted in Uncategorized

difficult good news.

It’s hard to believe that what is actually “good news”, can cause so much confusion and hurt.  Yesterday we received an update from our agency about the girl we were on our way to adopting.  The girl who’s mother they were told had passed away.  The girl who’s father even signed relinquishment papers declaring he could not care for her, and is letting go of that burden.  The girl we thought was going to become our daughter.

Her parents came to pick her up.

Just like that.  As if it was some long summer camp, or extended babysitter and now that season was over.  It’s a confusing place to be, because honestly we don’t know who to be upset with.  The parents obviously thought the orphanage was the only option for the survival of their child temporarily, and did what they had to do, in order to survive.  The orphanage responded based on the information they were given.  Our agency was acting in what they believed to be the best interest of a child they were told was an orphan, and a family who wanted to care for her.

And so, Francoise will continue to be named Francoise.  She’s with her parents now, as we would want her to be.  We’re so thankful for the rescue that has come to her life.  At the same time, we grieve.  We mourn the brokenness of a world where confusing situations like this can happen.  We are angry at the systems of oppression and corruption that have led to these moments.  We are exactly where we were before…waiting on God, and praying for Him to bring healing and redemption to the people of the DRC.

It’s hard to let go.  To find the pictures we had printed, the ones we’ve been looking at every night before bed.  The background image on my phone.  The picture we may have given or sent to you.  To tell our children, with smiles on our faces, that Francoise’s mommy and daddy were able to come bring her home, trying really hard to say it as good news.  Yet still offering to hold them – knowing somewhere in them is a sort of “letting go” as well.

If this all raises questions for you, welcome to where we are.  There’s a lot we don’t know, and much of it we won’t ever know.  We’ve shared what we can at this point.

It’s at this point where I would usually turn the corner, and offer a hope for what comes next.  A few words that clean up the mess I’ve talked about, and package it inspirationally.  I don’t have that this time.  I pray for Francoise and her parents as they begin a new life together.  I pray for the renewed search for a young girl who needs a family, and for our journey to raise what’s still needed to bring her home.  I pray for encouragement from God.  Please join us in praying.  Thanks.

Posted in Different Moments, Different Thoughts

re-pacing.

I remember college life.  Staying up late talking to a certain someone until I’d lost the ability to connect my words with logical thought.  (We still joke about how one night, reeaaalllly late into a phone conversation, I asked her if she wanted her vegetables mashed.  It was time to sleep.)  Those same late nights were often followed by early mornings, jumping from class to class, connecting with as many people as I could because I was socially devouring each moment like the socially repressed awkward high schooler I was.  In the midst of chaotic college life, a few times a week, I would attend a class that stood out a bit from the others.

The professor began class, not by ringing a bell or hollering a cattle call.  He began with a prayer.  It was not usually a long prayer, at least if it’d been written out.   Usually it was only a few words long.  But the way it was prayed, gathered our souls in poignant silence.  I know I have friends who actually wrote down many of his prayers, even though he would probably laugh at such a thing.   It wasn’t about a gnostic search for meaning in mysterious short phrases.

It was.

About the power of words, and

Changing.

The pace.

Of our hearts and minds.

Toward Christ.

rubygolfI was reminded of those valuable transitions this morning as our 3 year old brought frustration to the table for breakfast.   We’d had a great morning already.  I started out with a jog (old school DC Talk!!) as we’re in the midst of “Couch 2 5k”.  Then I came home and helped get things ready for the day, helping the girls say “good morning” to our chickens, etc..while mom made breakfast.  I really needed to take the van in for a repair, but was delaying so I could sit with the family to eat.  Nevertheless, I kept glancing at the clock.  Finally we sat down to warm plates of eggs, bacon, and toast.  As we held hands around the table, I asked Ruby to pray for our meal.  So she began praying.

In this case, it wasn’t an incredibly soul-provoking pace of words.  But she prayed for so. Many.  Things.  Her prayer rambled on for quite sometime, including a prayer for our chickens…and finally I realized I was tense.  I need reminders like a 3 year old praying, to force me out of my tense need to control my daily schedule.  Moments that take power away from me, and invite me to experience a moment without anxiety over what else needs to happen.

Finally, even she forgot she was praying as her eyes began to wander around the room.  We lovingly encouraged her to close with a collective “Amen”, and the meal began.   Sure my eggs had lost some heat.  The fresh raspberry jam had made the bread a little soggy.  But the quieting, and slowing of my soul was a delicious moment I’m still thanking my 3 year old for.

May we find ourselves breathing slower in frustrating moments today…with a smile on our faces that comes from a thankful re-pacing of our day…