Did You Ever Imagine?

Navigating our way through a sea of strollers after a long two days at the homeschool convention I looked at Andrew and said, "Did you ever imagine that one day you would be at a homeschool convention?"

I laughed when he said, "No way," because I felt the same way. I always loved having been homeschooled, but never thought I would pursue it with my own family. In my opinion, it just didn't suit my personality (most days, I am still of that opinion!), but a little over a year ago God started putting quiet and very obnoxious thoughts in my head that we should consider homeschooling. NOOOOOOO!

After a lot of prayer and discussion we decided to jump in and I was glad that I was jumping into the shallow end of the pool with Kindergarten since we were about to be parenting a newborn! We almost have a year under our belt and there have been a lot of overwhelming days. I still haven't figured out how to take care of an infant, do school, keep up with the laundry, and still be part of ministry without nearly losing my mind, but I suppose that's just life and motherhood, no matter what circumstances there are.

Yet, even with the hard days, there have been a lot of great things about homeschooling, things I was reminded of at the convention this weekend. It isn't a path for everyone and sometimes it can get a little lonely when you aren't surrounded with other people walking the same journey. It was great to be reminded of the reasons we have chosen to homeschool and be encouraged that we aren't alone in it! Here are a few reasons I was reminded of this weekend:

Homeschooling is a great way to practice discipleship with your kids. It certainly isn't the only way to do this but it does make it a little bit easier to be present for all the teachable moments in a day (even if sometimes the rate at which teachable moments come can make you want to lose your mind). The speakers and workshop leaders reminded us of this a lot this weekend. I really do love that we have the freedom to incorporate spiritual training, life experiences and ministry into our school day in ways that we wouldn't otherwise be able to. It's easy to lose sight of this when school is stuffed between loads of laundry and infant feedings, but it's there.

And then there is the fact that the homeschool community is family oriented. It isn't just family-friendly, it is shaped by and around families! There were kids everywhere at the conference. Babies were strapped on, slung on, and stuffed in carriers everywhere you turned. As a mom of an infant, who often is excluded from things because I have a baby in tow, it felt so nice to be a full member of the community. I've always loved that homeschooling is a diverse age environment, socialization isn't limited to peers.

Because of this, I love that everyone is a full member of the community in homeschooling. Youth were given important and visible roles in running the convention. Judah participated in the kid's program during the two days of the convention and the program was run almost entirely by 13-18 year olds (with 11 and 12 year-old helpers)! Youth also helped with conference registration and logistics, and introduced each workshop. The convention reminded me that children are capable of so much when we empower them along the way and walk along side them.

At the end of the conference, the kid's program did a presentation for the parents of the things they had been learning and doing. I was amazed at the how many verses and songs they had learned. Of course, my child was only singing and signing when he wasn't being distracted by the waving arms of his neighbors or when his mouth didn't need to be a beat box or when he wasn't practicing his disdain for personal space with the other children's faces, so who knows what he learned, but still.

As I watched the presentation and all these things were running through my mind I was so grateful for the opportunity to do this. Who knows what the future will hold or where and how the Lord will lead our family, but I tried to let go of the feelings of being overwhelmed and embrace gratefulness. Because, even though my wiggly, beat-boxing, six year old makes me want to tear my hair out, and finding just the right curriculum and figuring out lessons plans makes me crazy, it really is a blessing to be able to do what we are doing.

For however long this season is for our family, I am grateful that life doesn't always (if ever) turn out like you expect it to. For example, you might find yourself exhaustedly wading through a sea of strollers, laden down with babies and books at a homeschool convention...crazier things have happened.

Judah was so excited to meet Mr. Demme, the creator and instructor of Math U See (Judah's math curriculum).

This kid was a champ for two days straight...he needed to join some of the other babies and stretch out from time in his carrier!

Terrible quality photo, but we actually caught him doing some of the hand motions to the songs!

What the City is Teaching Me about Lent

Lent gives us an opportunity to refocus our lives as followers of Christ. It beckons us to once again be intentional about walking with Christ and to continually sacrifice ourselves and our earthly belongings on the alter before Him so that we may know even greater victory through His life.

Traditionally, for many of us, this includes the discipline of being without. We give up something that takes up a lot of our time and our passion, or something that offers us particular comfort. We fast from meat, or chocolate, or Facebook, or television and pour the time and passion gained from going without these things more intentionally into Christ. These can be beneficial sacrifices, and the Spirit can work mightily through these disciplines, but, too often, in our lives of excess and plenty, we relegate these lessons of dependence on and lowliness before Christ to this one season.

Lent isn't just a season, it is an attitude of frailty before our all-powerful King. It is the anticipation of His love and mercy to bring victory to our brokenness. Believers in the city, who know what it means to be be without, understand this in a deep way.

In a Lenten devotional called Journey to the Cross it says that during Lent "We want to shake up our lives significantly enough that when we reach out for our usual comforts and grasp a fistful of air, we are forced to cling to Christ." This describes life in the city for believers. It isn't something they have to do intentionally in the forty days before Easter, it is lived every day.

Life is chaotic in the city. Lives are shaken and comforts stripped away. Yet, it is here that I have seen some of the bravest examples of hands, that would otherwise be "grasping a fistful of air," clinging to beloved Jesus.

Have you ever thanked God just for waking you up? Over and over I have heard believers in the city utter this prayer and it humbles me every time. It comes from a heart of gratitude, humility, and trust. I have watched men and women trust God to make up the difference in their bank account when bills are due and understand deeply that they will surely turn back to alcohol or drugs or broken relationships if not for the saving power of their Messiah.

A Lenten heart realizes it was not awoken by its own power or for its own purposes. It recognizes its own frailty and, yet, boldly and prophetically declares the victory of Christ in all seasons, especially in times of want and need and brokenness. My experiences and friendships in the city these nine years have taught me so much about what it means to have a Lenten heart.

I have seen these Lenten hearts at work in the city -- grandmas raising their precious grandbabies on little energy and less money, friends wrapping loving arms around the mother of a child lost to violence, neighbors sharing a sparse pantry with a person in need, brothers declaring victory over addiction to a new believer -- they are emptied of self and worldly comforts, but full of trust in and anticipation for our victorious King.

May all of our hearts this season be awakened to this truth.

Reborn to Fight for Freedom

Today I am grateful for the unique way that the Body of Christ has fought, and continues to fight, for freedom. I am thankful for the men and women of God throughout the years who have stood on the knowledge that we are all imprisoned in our humanness until Jesus set us free, and let that knowledge embolden them to do courageous things for Christ.

Today I want to take a moment to be thankful for those who have fought against oppression and prejudice, and to be challenged by their bravery.

Because men and women stood with Christ in the gap of injustice, my family was made possible.

Because men and women spoke out against mockery. slurs, and character assassination because of the color of someone' skin, my sons can be assured of their worth to one another, to our family, and to Christ.

Because men and women climbed on buses and endured brutal beatings to stand for equality, my family can grow in the comfort of our love for one another.

Because men and women chose non-violence as a way to embody the sacrificial love of Christ for ALL people, my sons will walk through life, hand-in-hand, as brothers.

Because men and women, like Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., lived out the truth that "greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends (Jn. 15:13)," my family lives securely.

Because of the imperfect but bold faith of men and women like Dr. King, my sons know that they don't have to be perfect in order for Jesus to use them mightily for His Kingdom.

I am grateful for the victories won over injustice, but the fight must continue. As the Body of Christ, we must continue to stand in the gap for those who still feel the sting of prejudice and the oppression of injustice and poverty. There is not a gender, race, or socio-economic class that is outside the loving reach of Christ's victory and freedom...this is why we preach the Gospel to all people (and most importantly to ourselves). This is what we must live out, even on the hard days, even when the fight asks everything of us.

As people of Christ we were reborn to fight for freedom, serving the One who has all the victory. Jesus laid down his life so that we may be reconciled to God and set free from the oppression of our sin.

Church, let us stand with Christ and the men and women who make up our rich heritage, and boldly declare through our words and actions that we are a people of liberty and of life. Run to those who are suffering and perishing with the open arms of Christ. Live as living sacrifices, as those who have sacrificed before us, so that all people can know the freedom and security that we know through our Savior.

A Month of Josiah

One month ago from now I was puking my guts out from all the anesthesia I'd had on an empty stomach and I was completely over the phrase "You'll just feel some pressure." Ironically, the only person who wasn't lying when they said that phrase was the lady who put the giant epidural needle in my spine...but I digress.

A few hours before that, and 22 hours after the whole saga began, we finally got to meet our brand new and not at all tiny son, Josiah. Twelve days past his due date, Josiah (then still fondly referred to as "Tater Tot") was in no hurry to make an entrance. Hours of really fun and very unproductive procedures had only gotten me 4 cm dilated. Then, at about four o'clock I was dosing in and out while we were waiting on the doctor to discuss our options when nurses suddenly came running through the door. The baby's heart rate had dropped for the second time and a few frantic minutes later they were rushing me down the hall for an emergency c-section, leaving Andrew alone in our room.

Those few minutes were terrifying and confusing as I lay paralyzed on an operating table with medical staff running all around me. But, our hurried prayers were answered when they got the baby's heart monitor hooked back up and his heart rate was normal again and the medical staff were able to slow down and wait for my doctor to arrive. Andrew was broughtinto the room then and we decided to proceed with the c-section anyway.

Andrew said it looked like they were trying to wrestle a hog pulling him out. Then we heard, "He's huge!," "Big boy!," "Is that a toddler?" They pulled down the sterile sheet so that I could see my doctor holding up our son. There he was, a giant red baby with arms and legs hanging like long monkey limbs and the hands and feet of a two-year-old. I saw him and thought, "That weird looking kid is mine. How strange." Then they put him on the scale, 11.03 blinked and held, and I thanked the Lord for c-sections! They handed him to Andrew and we stared at his chunky face that looked just like my baby pictures and it still felt surreal. There he was, baby Josiah.

A few hours later Andrew brought Judah into the hospital room, he had a bouquet of flowers, some pictures he had drawn, and wore a sweet, excited, almost embarrassed, smile as he met his little brother for the first time. We told him his new brother's name was Josiah Malaki, which means "The Lord helps," and "My Messenger." This was the little brother Judah had waited months for and it was love at first sight.

Life's been a blur ever since. It seems like it's been forever since our family went from three to four and yet it went by in a flash. Life is slowly beginning to stop its reeling. Today I forged through two giant piles of revolving laundry that have been permanent fixtures for the last few weeks. Some days we're getting a rhythm back to our school days. We're starting to get the hang of scheduling everything around feedings and learning to plan an extra hour to get out of the house on account of the blowouts and peeing all over the couch and the outfit changes.

As someone who tends to focus on the future and try to get through difficult seasons by relentlessly attacking problems with possible solutions, I'm trying to learn to live in the moment. I've been forced to slow down on life that does not involve breastfeeding and diaper changing and teaching a Kindergartner math. I'm trying to remind myself that these moments will go by quickly and neither of my boys will be little and needy forever.

A month of Josiah has brought a lot less sleep and an appalling amount of money spent on diapers. It has also brought laughs and fat baby cheek snuggles and sweet big brother kisses. It has brought tears (the good and the bad kind) and joy. Tonight Judah prayed for Josiah to grow up to be a great man of God, to love him and serve him, and I echoed his sweet and tender prayer for both our amazing boys.

I Have Two Sons

I have two sons. One son was brought into our family through adoption, the other will join our family by birth in a few weeks.

These boys will share so many things: a crazy family that loves them, a room, an identity as missionary kids, inside jokes, vacations, but one thing they will never share is the color of their skin and the things they encounter in the world because of it. I pray they will understand one another and stand by each other in the face of these experiences, but particularly when it comes to being a person of color in our society, one will experience it by proxy and the other will experience it personally.

As a mother of a black son I dread this truth. Several years ago we visited a civil rights museum and I stood in front of a blown-up image of an African-American student in Little Rock, Arkansas, walking to school after desegregation. Behind her is an angry mass of white faces and I stood transfixed with horror at one woman's face, her mouth open wide, expelling hateful words, brows furrowed with determined fury. In my mind, suddenly the young black girl she was screaming at was my son and I had to hold back the tears as I thought about someone spewing such hatred all over him, merely because of the color of his skin. I thought, for the first time, what it is like to be the mother of a black child. The helpless feelings of sorrow and anger at the injustices, and even dangers, your children face. I felt them too as I stared at that photo.

Today it is unlikely my son will be followed down the street being hatefully screamed at, but he will experience many subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) acts of racism, people and systems that consistently make him question his value as a young black man. In the face of current events my heart is heavy with the pain and anger and confusion that still makes up the issue of racial injustice in our cities.

Whether some people want to admit it or not, the reality is that if both my sons decide not to walk with the Lord and make terrible moral and legal choices in life, one will most likely be given the benefit of the doubt and every opportunity to change, and the other will likely be labeled and dismissed. One might get community service and the other prison time. One might be pepper-sprayed and the other shot. It is so much less personal to think about this truth in light of differing communities, but having that divide present under my own roof makes it a more intimate pain.

As I have watched the events of Ferguson, Missouri, unfold and witnessed the frenzy of angry and unloving words unleashed in the world of social media, I find myself deeply troubled...both as a mother of a black son and as a Christian. The incident that touched off the eruption is not 100% clear, the diluted messages coming from within the community makes it difficult to hear the truths being spoken, and the aggressive and uncompassionate backlash from those watching widens the chasm between people.

Facts and law are not unimportant to the Lord, but if that was all He looked at we would all find ourselves condemned. The facts and laws involved in these current events are important but they do not tell the whole story. We, as the Church, have the opportunity to reclaim the story that is unfolding for the Kingdom. Redemption and transformation won't come from the law or from being right; it will come from the power of grace changing hearts. And, no matter how impossible a task this seems to be at the moment, Christ makes all things possible in Him. Standing hand-in-hand with brothers and sisters in Christ from different backgrounds and with different opinions is made possible because we are one family in Him.

Many Christians seem to be abdicating their role to stand for justice because they see a lack of clear and "practical" steps to be taken. I certainly do not have all the answers about what has to be done, but I know Someone who does. And, I know a good place to start is in humility. Jesus Christ stood silent in the face of his opponents, an extra act of sacrifice as He went to the cross for them. Can we, as His Body, not find it in ourselves to listen more than we speak, to be slow to anger, and quick to love? Can we lay down our literal and metaphorical weapons and reach for someone's hand instead? Perhaps it will be in these moments of self-sacrificing humility and in a quiet affirmation of people's value to the Kingdom that God will make the next steps clear.

I have two sons and God breathed life equally into each. They will stand hand-in-hand because they know they are of the same family...even when the tough times come because that is what brothers do. I pray that we may do the same as the family of God.

Time is a Gigantic Freight Train

Time. How can something that passes objectively at the same, steady pace be experienced so subjectively? In some seasons time seems to elongate. It stretches and sags in the middle like salt water taffy on a pulling machine. And then in other seasons time seems to barrel toward you like an ominous and gigantic freight train.

I have to admit that as I get older I have more of the latter experiences than the first, but right now I am most definitely finding myself playing chicken with the freight train of time. And, it is sort of freaking me out.

Our family is awaiting some major life changes in the next few months, ones that require a great deal of physical, emotional, and mental preparation. They are exciting changes but, as with any major transitions, they require a lot of work...and if you are a worrying planner like myself, they also consume a great deal of soul-energy.

Homeschooling. Some days I just wonder what I am thinking! School starts sooner than I would like to admit and with everything else that has been going on this summer, I am just now getting the details nailed down. I'm buying curriculum and trying to figure out a good planning method and I can't seem to think clearly with the light of a freight train flooding my eyes! I know that God led us to this decision, for at least this season in our lives, but God's leadings tend to take us straight outside of our comfort zones.

Baby. AHHH! We're having a baby in two and a half months. It still seems sort of surreal, except that we have a crib and I have a little human kung fooing around in my uterus. But, two and a half months? We don't have a name picked out yet! That might not bother some people (ahem, Andrew!), but I like to feel like I have a little cushion of time before deadlines and there isn't one blasted name on our list of potentials that I feel at home with yet. And, it feels like such a very big deal to name a human!! We've got classes to take and stuff to buy and life as we know it to kiss goodbye...in only two and a half months.

Judah. My crazy nut of an only child. It's just two and a half months until our family isn't a family of three but of four! I'm not an overly emotional person but for some reason it's hitting me really hard (we'll blame it on the pregnancy hormones). It's just been the three of us for nearly three years now and it's hard to imagine life where Judah isn't Daddy's only buddy and Mama's only favorite boy. Intellectually you know that it all just works itself out, that somehow God arranges it so you think two (or three, or four, or five, if you are so inclined) little humans are the most amazing people on the face of the earth, but your heart has trouble believing it before it happens. The dreaded and mostly irrational Mom-guilt has started to set in as I know more of my time will be directed away from Judah and I frantically want to somehow slow down the rushing of time to cherish these last months with only him. The two-year anniversary of our forever day with him is coming up and the topic of adoption makes my Mom-guilt all the more acute as we prepare to toss another major life-transition onto a five-year-old who has already seen too many. I trust that this change will bless beyond all of our expectations, but I also know that it will add to the list of things he will have to wrestle through as he processes adoption as part of his story.

If I wasn't already exhausted from growing a little human inside of me 24 hours a day, all the soul-energy I've been expending on these things has left me totally worn out. I've found myself succumbing to a paralyzed fear as I stare down the tracks of time and see the inevitability of change. When I do try to figure out the details a sense of dread sweeps over me, mostly eclipsing the joy that is awaiting us on this journey. It's time to change that because, no matter what awaits us, God is good and He has filled our lives with blessings. (I wouldn't mind if time would ease up a bit though!!)

Regular Mama

"I have three mamas!" Judah exclaimed. "M. and C. are my foster mama [his two dear previous foster mamas are one to him]. J. is my birth mama. And, you are my regular mama."

It never felt so good to be a "regular mama" as I looked at his sweet and eager face, grateful that God had written these important women into my son's story but that I was blessed to have him forever.

With the anticipation of a new baby in the house this year, conversations like these have tripled in frequency. Birth parents and adoption and skin color and the meaning of family are discussed and mulled over and questioned at somewhat of a dizzying pace these days. 

Thinking about the baby, the other day Judah said with a big smile, "We'll see...if the baby is going to be black or white, a boy or a girl!"

I laughed because he was so genuine about his excitement but it hurt me to have to explain again that the baby's skin color would match mine and Andrew's and not his. I could see on his face that he was disappointed as he tried to process. We talked about his birth mama and how he grew inside her tummy and how his skin color matched her's but that God made family to be so much more than matching skin tones. 

Adoption is a blessing and joy, but moments like these remind me that there is also deep sorrow and loss involved in adoption. Judah often talks about his birth mama and how he misses her. He tries to process being the only brown boy in our family, and in the last year and a half, in most of our general acquaintances. He mulls over the new name he received at adoption, sometimes with happiness and other times with sadness. 

My kid is fiercely loved by so many people and is one of the most genuinely happy and loving kids I've met. He has a spiritual openness and awareness that makes prayer time with him sweet and awe inspiring. We encourage a relationship with his birth mama and are open to relationships with other's from his birth family as God opens the doors. All of these things infuse confidence in him and give him a foundation to stand on, but it is natural for him to struggle to make sense of the losses as well as the blessings and to wrestle with his identity. 

As I am soon to add birth mama to my resume, the adoptive mama in me has been struggling with the implications for our family, particularly for my son. I know that as much as I love him and as much as I celebrate his life, I cannot shield him from suffering the loss and confusion that come with adoption. The fierceness of my love can give him a softer place to land when he falters, but it cannot eradicate entirely the sadness and doubt he will encounter. This regular mama's heart breaks when I think about that.

But, I also know that the Lord has fitted our family together perfectly and that His love for my son swallows mine whole. As the days dwindle where I get to be mama to only one amazing child I think with both trepidation and joy what a birth child will add to our family. In the end, for all the changes it will bring, I can come back to the fact that although technically I will be an adoptive mama to one child and a birth mama to another, God orchestrated it so that I'll really just be a regular mama to both.