Thursday, January 9, 2014

It's Time

(I’m listening to Jason Gray’s “Nothing is Wasted” as I type.  It’s perfect, and I only wish you were listening, too, while you read.)

4 years ago, our trio lost everything familiar.   Their first family.  Their village and family home.  Friends.  They lost all they had known.  Their hope was waylaid.  They no idea there was still more loss in store the day they were taken to a government orphanage.

Our trio had a brother.   He was older.  He cared for them and guarded their hearts.  He was with them when they left their home and entered the orphanage.  And then he wasn’t.  He was gone.  He should never have been separated from them.  That’s not the way it is done, but sometimes it is. 

Despite the healing and restoration we’ve seen, our trio still grieves the loss of their brother.  And we’ve mourned with them because that is what family does… We’ve prayed together for their pain, for the wreckage of loss, and for their tears and hurt, and we’ve begged God for restoration. 

We underestimated God.  We never imagined God’s answer to our children’s pain and privation would be reuniting our children under one roof as one family with a mama and a daddy.  We had no idea HE would choose that.  It seemed so far fetched. 

Here we are.  Our new son in Ethiopia is our trio’s biological sibling.  I love that we’ve prayed for him since the moment we knew about him.  I love that we will actually have the privilege of seeing those prayers worked out in parenting him.  

Our children have been apart too long.  It’s time.  And I am reminded nothing is wasted.

Sunday, December 29, 2013

We Are Still "Waiting For One More Knight"

When we named our blog “Waiting for One More Knight,” we couldn’t have anticipated where that title would take us.  The adoption of our baby, Mez, propelled us toward a road less traveled (and one we never imagined).  Our family doubled in size in less than 4 years.  Now as a family of 9, I’ve debating changing the name of our blog…(but wondered why when I rarely even blog).  And it felt like changing the name would imply that we’ve told God we are closing our hearts and homes to any more children.  I suppose we will continue as “Waiting for One More Knight.”

Truth be told, we’ve been very guarded in sharing the path ahead of our family.  It’s hard to be vulnerable and share what we anticipate won’t be understood and might seem reckless. But here goes:  God is changing our family again.  We have another son.  One in Ethiopia.  One waiting.  One more son that God is going to bring home.  So once again, we are waiting for one more Knight.

Thursday, November 1, 2012

It's in the Numbers

6 months at a glance:

14 family birthdays and cakes
288 candles (grandparents require a lot)
36 swimsuits
37 pair of shoes
28 school uniforms
3 ½ years of Math curriculum (new children)
2 ½ years of Phonics curriculum (new children)
1 year Science curriculum (new children)
72 readers (new children)
21 Magic Tree House books (new children)
481 new foods (Hello, Southern Comforts, Ancient Grains, Fresh Fruits and Veggies, Fish, and oooooh yes….36 flavors of Ice Cream)
5 new bikes
6 pair roller skates
6 Razor scooters
4 Ripstiks
1,308 oz. of laundry detergent
2200 dryer sheets
900 loads of laundry AT LEAST!!!!
4,860 meals
2,720 snacks

Countless memories.  Few regrets…if only there were more time.  I’d play more.

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Hard Things and Our Part

“And nobody wants to talk about the hard things.  The painful things.  The injustice.  The things which MUST make us uncomfortable enough, so that our hearts are stirred to do something about it!  Nobody talks.  Lord forbid we offend,” avows Adeye Salem. 

She’s right about it, about the hard.  You know.  The broken, the lonely, the fatherless, the unwanted, the dying, those suffering injustice, nobody wants to fully acknowledge it, not to the point we recognize our responsibility to respond.   Today, I'm sharing Adeye's blog as she's asked many of us to do in hopes that even one of these children will know the love of a family.

I dare you to look into the eyes of one of these children and really ask yourself what part you own in their story.  If not us, then whom?  Please, read.

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Not Just for Fun

Friends, it's not just all family and fun around here.  Truth is, LoPa, the business we established to fund feeding and education in the community of Korah in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, is still plodding along.  So, between cooking, washing, feeding, cleaning, teaching, folding, cooking, feeding, dishes, reading, playing, dishes, feeding, washing, running, loving, feeding, folding, washing... (okay you get the picture) I'm still LoPa-ing.

Next week, you can join us in fighting poverty one sale at a time.  The sale of Ethiopian Art and Handmade Ethiopian Jewelry benefits the community of Korah, Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.  Here's the scoop:

September 19th and 20th
9:00 a.m.-7:00 p.m. (Come and Go)
5925 Brixworth Dr., Tyler, TX 75703

Click here for the 'official' invite, and enjoy a smattering of teasers below.

Ethiopian Leather Jewelry

One in a Series of 3 Pieces of Ethiopian Art by Zekiros

Multi-colored Oxen by Aklilu

Blein Floral by Abraham
Ethiopian Leather Jewelry

Thursday, September 6, 2012

Four Months New

Four months.  Time has flown.  Four months ago last Saturday, our sweet trio entered our arms forever.  I keep asking, “What does four months mean?”

Four months means three children speak English, slang, and attempts to incorporate an East Texas drawl.  Four months means knock-knock jokes and bathroom humor at the dinner table.  Four months means more American than Habesha food.  Four months means red peppers, broccoli, spinach, chard, asparagus, Greek yogurt, kefir, and kale chips on our plates without a look of terror.  Four months means family time on the couch, card games on the den floor, throwing dice at the kitchen table, and ruling Wii Dance Party.  Four months means we swim, scooter, skate, tube, ride bikes, and shoot hoops.  Four months means cousins, grandparents, and friends.  Four months means we don’t want to speak Amharic or reference our roots too often (grieving that).  Four months means sibling spats and refusing to obey.  Four months means we know 4 scriptures.  Four months means new songs and stories from a far away land in a time before “we” were.  Four months means comfort.   

Four months means everything has changed.  Everything.  Yet it means so little when we know we have all of this life left together.   Embracing it all.