Camera Lens and Apples

I love photography.  As the one behind the camera I am able to adjust my perspective and angle to capture a particular moment or expression...as I see it.  For that second I am only seeing what is in that picture.  I can zoom in on a small detail and anything else going on around it is blocked out.  No sounds, no movement, no extras.
But what I enjoy even more is the editing. For me, having images on my camera that have not been copied to my computer is like a gift waiting to be opened.  I can't wait to see what I got! Then there are times as I go through them that I realize I caught sometime I wasn't even aware of.  Today was one of those days....

We spent most of the day yesterday out at the local county fair watching our two oldest boys compete in the Annual Strongman Competition.  They both work for a Concrete Business and several of the guys they work with compete as well.  It's a day they all look forward to...memories are made, bragging rights are earned and relationships are celebrated as they "work" together on a day off.  Even the guys that aren't competing come to cheer the others on.
Soon after we got home, my youngest were napping and I was able to get right into the pictures.  I was able to work in silence,  alone with my thoughts and ideas.  As is often the case, I find that God uses this alone time to impress on my thoughts a particular truth or Scripture.  I had many pictures to go through. Lots of non family members but many of my boys...now 18 and almost 20 years old.
This competition is about strength...they both did very well.  Second place in the featherweight division and third in the heavyweight.
Several verses kept running through my head and after I got the pictures uploaded for the guys to see on Facebook I decided to go look them up. You know, when you remember the principal of it but you want to see exactly how its phrased?

Psalm 144:12 "May our sons in their prime be like sturdy oak trees, Our daughters as shapely and bright as fields of wildflowers".

Psalm 127:5 " How blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them.  He shall not be put to shame when he contends with his enemies at the gate".

I know I have beautiful children. Not just my opinion....it just is what it is! : )  My boys are manly men, they are the sturdy oak tree type.  Even with my 6-foot frame I am beginning to feel like the short one.  Their character is matching their stature...their roots have taken hold.  Our sons and daughters ARE a blessing...all 8 make my crown sparkle.  It was a reminder of what I have been given...a moment of worship, of gratitude.

The next project on the days agenda was to pick the apples from the first two of our 14 trees.  Shawn had been out working with our girls while I was editing so when I walked outside, a row of buckets was already full.  I happened to still have my camera in hand and snapped this.

The Strongman pictures had been a good reminder of the blessing of my children but it was the shot of the apples that was my undoing.  Remember...the unexpected?  Just apples...but to me it spoke more because of what I had just read in the surrounding verses of the ones I was looking up. And I have to believe that as the inspired, living Word of God...it was speaking to me.

I have alluded a bit in this blog to the difficulties of the last few months but because of some circumstances, out of our control, I have been cautious to say too much.  I am now free to speak a bit more openly.

Four months ago now, in March, Shawn's employment was eliminated.  No warning, with little explanation. A day that started like any other and ended like one we had never experienced before. I know it happens to many others, but it had never happened to us. The feelings we have both experience since that are enough to write a whole book about.  Fear, anger, betrayal and uncertainty, gratitude, to name a few.  My husband is a man of integrity, he has given his all in every employment he has had, and this was no different.

He would tell you that this experience has been the best thing spiritually that has ever happened to  him... I would agree.  God has drawn near, He has provided, He has been present....but He has not ended that season for us...yet.  Shawn is working hard, every day, pursuing what he believes God has laid out for him but the income, or lack thereof, has not changed.

I would tell you that as a wife, there has never been anything more difficult for me than watching him work and work, by faith waiting for God to "turn the faucet on".  Just to clarify, it's not difficult because I disagree that it is what God is asking him to do, but difficult to watch the struggle, knowing full well that God could change things in a moment. Shawn would consider providing for his family to be one of the greatest joys and honors he has ever experienced. Yet, even though he is working diligently and faithfully it doesn't yet have the financial reward.

The apples?  Psalm 144:13-15...the verses right after the one I read earlier says, "Our barns will be filled with every kind of provision.  Our sheep will increase by thousands, by tens of thousands, by tens of thousands in our fields;  There will be no more breaching of walls, no going into captivity, no cry of distress in our streets.  Blessed is the people of whom this is true; blessed is the people whose God is the LORD."

Our abundance of apples this year is a reminder that God prospers us in many ways... its not always in dollars and cents. This is a season, something will change somewhere....He will be faithful to complete the work He has begun in us.  Sometimes our blessing of temporary daily bread and a reminder of His faithfulness is right in our own back yard...it just takes a camera lens and apples to see it.

SOMETIMES WINNING IS LOSING

Last Thursday we braved the freezing cold and wind and drove south a couple of hours to watch David compete in our Track and Field Regional Finals.  It was a family affair (minus one who was working) as we bundled up, with anticipation of what we knew David was capable of accomplishing.  He has worked very hard in an event that was new to him just a couple of years ago.  He has been steadily improving and gaining confidence as he has used his God given talent and tall, strong build to heave a heavy ball great distances.  Never did we think, when he first began, that this would be how he would get through college.

He has personally accomplished much in the sport…but on this night it was not meant to be.  His warm up throws, not to mention his weeks of throwing before, could have qualified him for State Competition.  But on that night, he threw just 6 inches too short.

As spectators, we were not close enough to talk to him as he exited off the opposite side of the field. Obviously disappointed and frustrated.  We made our way around the fenced in area to where we were finally able to hug him…to tell him how proud we are of him and how much we love him.

He was quick to tell how he knew he could have. How close he was.  How he wanted to so badly. 

I am grateful on any given day that I do not parent alone, for many reasons… but the next few moments of words between father and son are ones I will not soon forget.  Shawn placed his hands on David’s shoulders and looked him in the eyes…

“The measure of you as a man is not found in the accomplishments or defeats of one single day or event…but in how much you allow that event to build your dependence on the Lord”.

 

Words that meant more to son, and more to mother because we have seen the truth lived out in the man who spoke them.  It’s been a rough couple months, but the dependency and sweet communion with his Jesus have been tangible in our home.  HE is walking with us, HE is talking to us, and HE is whispering His love for us ever so consistently.

Sometimes the winning is in the losing.  Sometimes the joy is in the grief. 

SWINGING

"For the Lord your God is living among you. He is a mighty savior. He will take delight in you with gladness. With his love, he will calm all your fears.He will rejoice over you with joyful songs."

Zephaniah 3:17 NLT






Eight months ago our little "Brave Heart" could not even sit on this tire swing without panic overtaking him.  No amount of reasoning or reassuring would calm his fear.  Any pictures we have of him in those early days home show someone else either holding him or the swing still. In many areas he appeared to be the more fearless of the two but not when it came to this.  He didn't like it, it was what he feared the most ....plain and simple.

This morning we were outside enjoying the sunshine and he ran to me, asking to be pushed.  As he soared, again and again, into the air,  his laughter and giggles were contagious.  He begged to go higher and higher, more and more...

It's moments like this when God most often speaks to me.  I see myself in my children.  I sense His parental love for me in my spirit and I am encouraged...

While I am not yet at liberty to share all the particulars of our situation, I am able to share the journey of my own heart and I pray that those details will be sufficient to be a blessing for any of you reading.  While each of our story lines is unique...God's Truth covers all.

It is true that much of what we fear in life never really happens, it is also true that some of it does.  That is not meant as a negative statement...it just is.  If you would have asked me 5 years ago what my greatest fear would have been, this would have been it.  The same could be said of my man.  Each of us is smack dab, right in the middle of what we feared the most. 

 We didn't asks for it.
 We prayed that it would never happen.
 We hoped it would fall in the category of things that never really come to pass.

But it didn't...and we are here.  

We battle the fear.
We battle the shame.
We question the reasons.
We battle loneliness and discouragement.
It feels unfair.

But God ordained it...and we are here.

It would be easier to write this as an "after the fact" post.  A remembering of how God intervened and provided "back then"...when the puzzle was complete.  But it is not. 

We have been earnestly seeking His heart on the matter, but He has not yet given clear direction.
When we look at our timeline it appears to be running out.
Panic can easily sweep in.

But we are learning to swing. 
Our knuckles may be white from the gripping but we are at least taking breaths.
With each push, my Father's heart speaks reassurance that, somehow, all will be well.

This view from the heights is different.
The perspective... freeing.

We are learning to giggle... even in the moments when our stomachs drop from the falling.
When hopes are dashed.
When dreams are not yet birthed.

His promises are getting more firmly stamped in our minds as we repeat them with each repetitive motion.
And somehow the process is shifting the truths from our heads to our hearts.

When we submit to His loving, our fears are calmed.
The fear is replaced with an enjoyment of the ride.

Off in the distance I hear singing.
Like a canopy over me.
A joyful song, unlike any other.

A reminder today that, somehow, this journey gives Him reason to be joyful.  I can be thankful for that....

STEADFAST

In my opinion, a winter that lasts only a couple weeks would be sufficient.  Cold enough to require a fire started and snow enough to enjoy the beauty for a day or two…then spring would be welcome.

I’m a southern girl…really southern.  Born and raised south of the equator permanently set my internal thermostat.   Twenty plus years here has done little to change that fact.  It takes me half the summer to thaw before I gear up to do it all over again.

This year I dreaded the long winter for the twins.  They arrived home to us in September and only had a few weeks of nice weather to be outside before the “lock down” began,  reminded every time they stepped outside that they were no longer in Ethiopia.

In classic childlike fashion they’ve adapted well in so many ways.  It was good for everyone, I think.  We had lots of “together” time and the boundaries of the house became their norm.  Home has become very familiar to them.  It’s predictable and consistent…they know what to expect. They have learned the comfort of the routine, the security of the bond called family.

Finally…some sunshine in the last couple days.  We’ve opened the windows and packed up the snow gear.  The birds in the budding trees can’t help but lift one’s spirits.

Yet, I have noticed some obvious struggles in my wee ones.  This change has been hard for them.  I am finding what I have heard from others to be true.  Change is harder for my adopted kiddos than it is for my bios.  All of a sudden everything is different again.  The time we wake up and where we can play.  Sibling’s sports have changed, which in turn affects the boundaries and expectations as outside spectators.  Schedules are different; the people we see are different.

It has triggered an unsettledness in them.  It’s best described as a fluttering…an inability to stick at one thing.  Meron, especially, has almost a panic about her.  The stuttering has returned, the questions have multiplied and the boundaries are being fully tested.  Not in a rebellious sort of way, but instead, one that is begging for the walls of security to be raised high around her.

My heart aches as I am reminded again that change has not always been easy for them.  They have been broadsided by circumstances out of their control. Decisions made without their opinions counting… uprooted into a world they didn’t ask for.

And as happens so often in this fleshing out of adoption, I am struck by how we are so very much the same. We like the predictable, we like the guarantees.  Even us adventurous sorts like stability in the places we most readily find our security.

It’s been a season of change for the big people of the house as well.  One that involves unknowns, unemployment and a boatload of uncertainty.  I have learned that I like variety and change… when I control it.  I like my opinion to be asked before the circumstance plows me over.  I like adventure, if I choose it.

My heart is prone to “flutter”… I have my own expressions of “panic”.  I too, beg for the walls of security to be raised high around me.

I have often prayed Psalm 51:10 for myself, “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit in me”.  Probably tending to focus more on the clean heart than the steadfast one.  So tonight, out of curiosity, I looked up definitions for steadfast and this one caught me.

steadfast adj.  firm in purpose, resolution, faith, attachment

Oh yes!  That is so what I desire…a steadfast heart.  So now it’s what I am praying for all of us, big and little.  Firmness in my faith, solidity in their attachment process.

Psalm 112:6-8  “Surely the righteous will never be shaken; they will be remembered forever.  They will have no fear of bad news; their hearts are steadfast, trusting in the Lord.  Their hearts are secure, they will have no fear; in the end they will look in triumph on their foes.”

Create in me a steadfast heart, O Lord ... firmly planted, living with purpose, unafraid of bad news. 

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Planting Trees

An older post from a year and a half ago... before we even knew who the twins were.  Another reminder of God's faithfulness to all of our children. We were at the beginning of the adoption process when I wrote this...the twins were just "saplings in our hearts".

I came across this video of Andrew Peterson’s song, “Planting Trees” on a friends blog this morning.  I don’t know how long this video has been around but it was a first time viewing for me and I was drawn in to the beauty of the analogy.

I look out my windows this early morning to fall beauty all around. The focus at this time of year is on the trees…the colors, the falling leaves.

We have lived here on this property for just over 13 years and its been many years now of re-doing, re-building and re-planting.  And I feel a twinge of quilt as I remember in our early years here being just a tad frustrated at my hardworking husband, a lover of trees, as he would spend time on his tree projects. Other short term needs seemed more important at the time such as a curtain rod I was needing hung..you know ladies, those kinds of things. We would tease him and roll our eyes on occasion as he would talk about how he envisioned things to one day be. What trees he would like to plant here and there.

Shawn would often walk down along the creek that borders our property and dig up little saplings that had started to grow in places where they would never flourish.  Then he would gently move them from one spot to another, put a protective plastic wrap around the base to protect from any little critters, and then faithfully haul buckets of water from the creek until they had set roots down deep enough to keep themselves growing on their own.

I remember grumblings from our “bucket brigade” of kids when he planted the flowering pear tears all the way up the lane..all 10 of them.  I actually think there were more than that to begin with but we lost a few, I don’t remember but I am sure that if you asked he could tell you. : )

I write this on the morning of Senior Night for our oldest son, Johnathon.  This will be the last night for him to play a home football game at Fairfield so maybe this is what has gotten me all nostalgic, thinking trees.
As I look out over the beauty of many of our now grown trees I am struck by how accurate the anology of this song really is.  The early years of tender nurturing… the roots starting to go deeper and deeper.  The storms that came through from time to time, sometimes almost killing the tree. One such tree is one of thoseBradfordpears right along the lane.  It is still growing, but will never have the shape it did before, and I am now thankful that we never found the time to cut it down.

One of my “trees” is now almost full grown, and even in this week of preparing for the end of this football era for him, God has given me unique opportunities to observe the growth.  To see the beauty of his unique color, the scars in the bark that testify to the fact that he is a walking miracle.

Another of my “trees” is now taller than both Shawn and I.  He is not the same kind of tree as his older brother and his leaves will fall differently.  A couple of my “trees” are in those middle years, still sinking the roots down in, looking for their own source of nourishment and water.  And our girls, firmly planted, new growth..new beauty.

I am reminded that our family is at another crossroad.  New transplants soon to be arriving.  Little shoots that started to grow in an area where they would probably not survive.  God is tenderly picking them up and it will be our job to love, nurture and protect. To pick good “growing spots” for them. And each of us will be part of that “bucket brigade”…to water. Yes, lots of water.

It would be ridiculous of me to end this post without a special thanks to my husband. For his vision, his patience, his tender strength, even in the uprooting.  His gentleness in pruning, his appreciation of the fruit.
I am so thankful to be em”barking” : ) on this new tree planting with you.  Thank you for 19 (now 20) years of helping “create our current landscape”.





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WHAT'S THAT SMELL?

You've heard it said that every home has a unique smell. Not necessarily bad or good, just different. It makes a statement of all things there. The people, the food, the laundry soap, candles and air-fresheners.

Not a new realization for me but I chuckled when I heard it again, my mind immediately imagining what my home smells like to others. Depending on the day you come through our doors the aroma could change. A dirty diaper from the one-year old I babysit, a dog needing a bath, a bag of popcorn left too long in the microwave or a pile of well used shoes could be your first aromatic experience within our four walls. But not all smells here are bad... I love candles and oil burners and when I cook it usually smells good.

It's probably safe to assume that for most of us women, smell is a big deal. We like our men to smell good and our homes to smell clean. We do our best to teach our children personal hygiene and if you are like me, think nothing of directing a teenage boy to a shower when needed.

Millions of dollars are spent on marketing towards our bent. Out of curiosity I checked the names on some of what I currently have laying around. Coastal woods, Sun splashed, Hawaiian tropics, Fireside and Tropical Escape. If only the smell itself could take us there.

But what if we looked at smell differently? 2 Corinthians 2:14-15 says, “But thanks be to God! For through what Christ has done, He has triumphed over us so that now wherever we go He uses us to tell others about the Lord and to spread the Gospel like a sweet perfume. As far as God is concerned there is a sweet, wholesome fragrance in our lives. It is the fragrance of Christ within us, an aroma to both the saved and the unsaved all around us”.

Can you imagine a new line of fragrances for the home that truly creates the atmosphere stated on the jar?

Love and Acceptance

Faith in the unknown

Humility

Forgiveness

Esteeming others better than myself

Flexibility

Boldness in Truth

Joy

Encouragement

Gratitude

Contentment

Patience

Here is the best part.... “because of what Christ has done, and His triumph over us”, the fragrance is already in us. It is because of what HE has done in us that we should smell good. Smells are unavoidable...you don't see them coming, but you know when they are there. You've been around people like that....good and bad. Some people just ooze the Presence of Jesus, others may look the same on the outside but the stench in unavoidable.

We live in the country, in an old home built in 1890. No matter how well we think we have things sealed up an occasional mouse will find its way in through the old basement. It will consume some of the poison we have hidden around and make its final resting place somewhere inside a wall that is impossible to get to. We know its there because we smell it, but will never be able to find it. No amount of air-fresheners, Lysol spray or candles will take it away. In fact, I have learned that trying to cover it with a good smell only makes a more confusing stench.

What candle do you need to light in your home today? Or maybe more importantly ...what stench needs to be dug out? Does your home smell of fear, criticism and arrogance? If you're like me, some rooms smell ok, but in others, the door is best kept shut. Does the work of Christ in us refresh and attract like a wholesome fragrance or do our mixed messages confuse like cheap perfume imitations?

What candle will you commit to lighting in your home today?

My tribute to courageous birth moms everywhere...

Her name means “joy” in Amharic. Not the word I would first use to describe our meeting, just hours after landing in Ethiopia for the second time...this trip to bring our children home.

We had been given the option of meeting birth mom by our agency. It was our choice, but strongly encouraged. It would require extra time and expense, and we were warned that it could be awkward, at best. Both families discussed the pros and cons and decided that, for the sake of the children, we would plan to meet.

We had barely checked into our hotel rooms when a call from the lobby informed us, in broken English, that mom was there and would be waiting for us outside. No warning, no plan...just “she's here...please come downstairs to meet her”.

As I have said so many times in the retelling of our adoption story, NOTHING could have prepared me. PANIC! How exactly is this supposed to be done? Do you hug the woman who is giving you her children? Do you simply shake her hand? Does she hate me? Will she forever remember me with sadness? Will I always be a reminder to her of what she could not be? Will we adequately be able to convey to her that we will love her babies...that they will be completely ours, just like our bio kids...but forever hers as well? That we will always speak of her with honor...that we will do our best to keep their memories of her alive.

We gathered our courage and made our way downstairs...T and Jean had already been introduced to her by the man in charge of our agency's adoptions. My eyes met hers and I lost it...shake her hand? Hardly! We embraced, my six foot frame and hers, probably under five. We sobbed as we held each other...unable to communicate, yet still able to say so very much. She was so strong, so brave, so selfless.

She had carried these twins that are now mine....she had birthed them, named them, nursed them, loved them and kept them alive in such extreme poverty. And now, out of selfless love that I will never claim to fully understand...she was giving them to us. She was giving them hope...she was giving them a future...she was giving them life.

We sat, the five of us...an African birth mother, two American born adoptive parents, one born in Laos, and myself, born and raised in South America....brought from all around the world with one united purpose...the love of four children. We asked her, through the interpreter, what her dreams were for each of her kids., and asked her to describe each of their personalities. We cried together, we laughed together. Each family gave her a photo album to keep...it showed our families here at home, our houses, the kids bedrooms and where they would sleep. We told her about each of you...our families, friends, and community whose generosity had helped make this possible.

It was time to go..just typing those words makes the tears flow again. The interpreter/driver said it was time to take her back so we needed to say our goodbyes. It wasn't enough time, there was not enough said...but it was time. Just before leaving, she softly asked the agency director if she could give us each a gift, as if she hadn’t already given her all. She slowly unfolded a handkerchief and pulled out several tattered pictures that she had of the kids when they were younger, taken with their birth father while he was still living. She explained that she wanted the kids to have something to remember him with too.

I say often that adoption is beautiful, and it is. I say often that adoption requires sacrifice, and it does.

To all birth moms out there who have made the selfless choice to give their child up for adoption. Whether you ever meet your child's adoptive mother or not... may it be a comfort for you to know that the adoptive mother will always carry part of your grief. We carry it tenderly, just as we do your child. We honor it, we honor you. You were braver, you gave more.