We visited with some friends recently, who had been asking for some time to hear about our experiences in Ethiopia and tell how and where we saw God at work. They didn't have to twist our arms too hard to get us to concede. After all a great dinner and a vintage bottle of wine seem to be the best place to unwrap the complexity of poverty and its effects on all who encounter it, dirty water, starvation, the presence of the Muslim faith and its impact, the western church's lack of visibility in the 3rd world, the American dream, orphans, invalids in Ethiopia, the beauty which co-exists in the midst of the above, and the giftedness of the locals. I was caught off guard by the pain I experienced reliving the assessment of the surplus and luxuries of my life in comparison to the lives of those languishing. And then those dreaded words that always get me in trouble: "I am crushed by the weight of knowing my living at 8515 Carli Cr., surrounded by the wanton pleasures of life, continuing to consume comes at a price to so many. My lifestyle, our lifestyles, mean many more starve, die of thirst and preventable diseases, millions of children go to sleep without knowing the love of a parent." Our host was gracious. She tried to console me. With a genuinely grieved heart over my pain, our host reminded us we couldn't live with joy (happiness) if our hearts were taken with guilt and constant thought of what we might sacrifice next and God just couldn't want this... Really? I think it's just where He wants me. Hurting. Grieving. Praying. Submitting. Broken but rejoicing all the same, begging Him to keep me devastated for those He loves who are wasting away, living a life that more closely matches His gospel. The conversation died off. I wasn't surprised. It was uncomfortable, not wasted.
Alas, our friend has a child who suffers from a terminal disease. When we were in the car riding home, the thought struck me how hard it would be for her to see people surrounding her who hold the key to healing her son, to remedying his disease; but as she encountered these people each one assessed the sacrifice involved in giving over the entity of healing. They look at what it would mean to choose to offer life to this child or continue on in the same place and choose death for her son. They look. They appraise. Ultimately they refuse. They "pocket" the remedy and carry on. After all, this belongs to them. They are not to feel guilty for enjoying what was theirs to begin with, right? They continue on with out thought. They world turns while he dies. But this IS what poverty looks like. I am not implying it can be remedied easily if at all...but that is no excuse not to intercede for many. How desperate I am to live what He desires. It's hard to live not belonging, not fitting, not relating. Ahhh, but I wouldn't trade it to return to the comfort of convenience and contentment in conformity.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Radical
A few months ago, I read the book Radical by David Platt. God gave him a great view of the true gospel. Pick it up and read it. Allow God to use. Partner it with the Word. It may radically change your view of gospel style living. For those of you non-readers, I'm linking you to his podcast series. Take my radical dare to read or listen and remain the same:
If you're looking for a way to radically impact the world, consider partnering with great organizations like Hopechest. Check them out! Consider a way to radically live out the real gospel of Christ.
Do Something Now from Children's HopeChest on Vimeo.
Do Something Now from Children's HopeChest on Vimeo.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
TB doesn't stand for Too Boring (but with this post it should)
Before we left Ethiopia, Belay asked us to remind our pediatrician that Mezekir received a BCG vaccine for TB. The significance of this vaccine is that a child will usually show a false positive on the TB skin test. Mez did have his skin test administered, and the results read at 12+. Because this was above the "norm" and indicates the presence of the TB virus, exposure to TB at some point, or was indicative of the BCG, the office suggested a T-Spot.T test to be preformed and a chest Xray. We are appreciative they advocate this as opposed to an immediate dosing of INH. Too many clinics suggest a child do a 6 month to 9 month regimen of meds to combat the "TB" that may or may not exist. Mez's chest Xray did not show any signs of active TB (we were not surprised). The T-spot test results will be out for 5-7 days. This process was not so dramatic until you factor in the 7 (yes 7) viles of blood to administer all of the other tests which our ped requested. This allows titering for immunizations (because this momma refuses to re-immunize if not necessary; yes, our ped called me Jenny McCarthy...please), STD panels (which I was assured were routine when living in an orphanage in a foreign country), and the TB test due to our BCG vaccine. Poor fella screamed like never before. Since we had already attempted a blood draw last Wednesday, I brought along Daddy for backup. I am glad! The nurses were, too. All that to say, today was not Mezekir's favorite day. We will be glad when this is over. After 93 days of working to attach and bond, we hope Mez is quick to forget today and remember the 92 prior.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Debunking Myths #2
I find it interesting how many people ask about our story now that our son is in our arms. I usually accept this as an opportunity to share how the Lord worked mightily in our lives to bring us to where we are. Most often, this means I confuse the question as authentic interest as opposed to what it is: the ever pressing question, "How do you have a black son? Did you adopt? Where is he from?". And for the record, I don't mind those questions being simply stated. I would be curious, too. But what I find, when I answer the question they actually asked (what is your story), is a person who feels the need to defend why they have not adopted. It never fails to follow, "It's good God called you to that. We are called to care for the orphans and widows in a different way." I agree.
When I look at the Old Testament, I see a few directives surrounding orphans, widows, foreigners...who we refer to as "the least of these". Exodus 22:21-24 Tells us not to exploit or oppress the least of these. Deuteronomy gives much directive as to the care of the least of these. Interestingly enough, Deuteronomy 27:19 states, "Cursed is the man who withholds justice from the alien, the fatherless, or the widow." This leads me back to the above conversations.
What are you doing to care for the least of these. I will speak directly for myself prior to our pursuit of adoption: We sponsored a few orphans. We gave to CASA. We helped with ministries that host foreign students. Hey, don't forget IJM and the periodic, small donation to people traveling on mission trips to care for the least of these. But we did withhold justice. Justice is the concept of moral rightness based on ethics, rationality, law, natural law, religion, fairness, or equity, along with the punishment of the breach of said ethics. There is nothing "just" about the token, compulsory, unsacrificial contributions made by most Americans. When faced with this comment, I struggle not to question how exactly God has them caring for the least of these. I long to point out how many of us continue to drive around in our luxury SUVs, drink $3 lattes, go for ice cream at the local shoppe that costs more than a month of food in a languishing country, carry swimming, golfing, and tennis memberships, have boats or other recreational vehicles and closets full of shoes and clothing, attend private schools and yet refuse to live a life of sacrifice for the least of these. It seems to me, whether we are or are not called to adopt, we are all called to live in a "just" way that communicates the heart of the gospel...sacrifice.
Money is not the only justice we can offer. I have a friend, who cares for the least of these in a very unglorified and unnoticed manner. She doesn't have a cute baby on her hip. She didn't travel to a foreign land. Without proclamation, she gives up days of her week to go to the lonely, the abandoned, and the discarded. When praying how the Lord would use her, she was compelled to go to the nursing homes and love those who our society has forsaken. Nothing fancy...but sacrifice.
My heart desires to be bold when next faced with this statement (or tempted to make it) and lovingly ask, "Tell me your story. I want to know how God is using you to provide justice to the least of these?" After all, for the darling set of brown eyes below, there are 147 million others begging to feel the justice of the gospel walked out.
When I look at the Old Testament, I see a few directives surrounding orphans, widows, foreigners...who we refer to as "the least of these". Exodus 22:21-24 Tells us not to exploit or oppress the least of these. Deuteronomy gives much directive as to the care of the least of these. Interestingly enough, Deuteronomy 27:19 states, "Cursed is the man who withholds justice from the alien, the fatherless, or the widow." This leads me back to the above conversations.
What are you doing to care for the least of these. I will speak directly for myself prior to our pursuit of adoption: We sponsored a few orphans. We gave to CASA. We helped with ministries that host foreign students. Hey, don't forget IJM and the periodic, small donation to people traveling on mission trips to care for the least of these. But we did withhold justice. Justice is the concept of moral rightness based on ethics, rationality, law, natural law, religion, fairness, or equity, along with the punishment of the breach of said ethics. There is nothing "just" about the token, compulsory, unsacrificial contributions made by most Americans. When faced with this comment, I struggle not to question how exactly God has them caring for the least of these. I long to point out how many of us continue to drive around in our luxury SUVs, drink $3 lattes, go for ice cream at the local shoppe that costs more than a month of food in a languishing country, carry swimming, golfing, and tennis memberships, have boats or other recreational vehicles and closets full of shoes and clothing, attend private schools and yet refuse to live a life of sacrifice for the least of these. It seems to me, whether we are or are not called to adopt, we are all called to live in a "just" way that communicates the heart of the gospel...sacrifice.
Money is not the only justice we can offer. I have a friend, who cares for the least of these in a very unglorified and unnoticed manner. She doesn't have a cute baby on her hip. She didn't travel to a foreign land. Without proclamation, she gives up days of her week to go to the lonely, the abandoned, and the discarded. When praying how the Lord would use her, she was compelled to go to the nursing homes and love those who our society has forsaken. Nothing fancy...but sacrifice.
My heart desires to be bold when next faced with this statement (or tempted to make it) and lovingly ask, "Tell me your story. I want to know how God is using you to provide justice to the least of these?" After all, for the darling set of brown eyes below, there are 147 million others begging to feel the justice of the gospel walked out.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Debunking the Myths #1
I've heard for the last time (without responding)"I'd adopt an orphan, but..." Last week, I heard one of the more common "buts", and I finally responded. So for those of you who are reading and use this phrase, this serves as my disclaimer and warning, you just might be challenged or offended. The occurrence:
Said person, we shall call "Kelly", bumps into us in line. "Oh, what a cute child. Is he yours? I mean where did you get him?" Innocent question. Information seeker. Our baby does look different than us. The question makes sense, so I assured Kelly he is my son and that I got him from the arms of a loving mother, who despite her best efforts and desire was unable to parent. "OHHHH!" She says, "I see. Was it one of those situations?"
"Don't know," I'm thinking, "I don't know what one of those situations would be." So I stand with an inquisitive look staring back at her waiting for her to elaborate.
"I mean, what's his story? Was it bad. I guess his mom and dad are dead or just didn't want him."
"Oh no, Kelly, we are his mom and dad. We do want him. In fact, we fought a 2 year, uphill battle to make our son part of our family. The woman, who happened to carry him in her womb, is alive. She was unable to parent. We don't openly share his story." I wanted to explain to her that's the equivalent of me showing your birth video on my blog...but no, that's not the sentiment I wanted to leave her.
Ever so kindly, I looked at Kelly and responded, "Interesting. I didn't realize OB/GYNS, clinics, labs, hospitals, and insurance agencies were comping the price of births. My insurance costs us $1500/month, my ultrasounds were $450 each, my birth was $8000, and my last son's NICU stay ran about $20,000. This doesn't include the price of an epidural or a cesarean if it is needed. Last time I checked, all of the women in America buy their babies in one way or another. We chose to buy ours through the gift of adoption; you chose to buy yours through a system of medical staffing, hospitals, and insurance. I'm sure in the end there is no difference."
Kelly moved away in line. I wasn't sad. Sorry, Kelly. My son came to me by the same kind of love that brought your children to you. Another woman may have carried him in her womb, but he was intended for my family by an omnipotent creator before the foundations of the earth. I believe Kelly needed a reason to take a step away from being different. She didn't want the disturbance that comes with going against the status quo. She doesn't want adoption to be a measure by which God stretches her faith. Kelly, a valid excuse would be, "I don't want another child."
If in you there is anything that desires to grow your family through adoption, don't let the cost hinder you. Email us. We will help walk you through some options and suggestions. Who wouldn't want this to be a part of their lives:
Friday, June 18, 2010
Nine Months
Just a blip:
I remember with our first son being quite annoyed around the 6-9 month mark when he would scream each time I’d leave. Separation anxiety was better termed separation annoyance in our home. I hated the guaranteed bawling, yelping, and wailing that ensued at each departure. In fact, it curtailed much of unneeded socializing. Ahhhhh, but this side of parenting (be it maturing, fourth baby, or adoption) I relish any sign of being “Mommy”. This week, while at Kanakuk Family Kamp, we hit yet another milestone in the area of attachment and bonding. We are rejoicing that our little Meze is crying, screaming, and inconsolable when I take leave. Yes, Meze, our remembered one, we thank you for the gift of protest. So, keep it up. Shriek. Screech. Sob. We love that you ask for us with such definite fervor and desire. We love you. Happy 9 months.
I remember with our first son being quite annoyed around the 6-9 month mark when he would scream each time I’d leave. Separation anxiety was better termed separation annoyance in our home. I hated the guaranteed bawling, yelping, and wailing that ensued at each departure. In fact, it curtailed much of unneeded socializing. Ahhhhh, but this side of parenting (be it maturing, fourth baby, or adoption) I relish any sign of being “Mommy”. This week, while at Kanakuk Family Kamp, we hit yet another milestone in the area of attachment and bonding. We are rejoicing that our little Meze is crying, screaming, and inconsolable when I take leave. Yes, Meze, our remembered one, we thank you for the gift of protest. So, keep it up. Shriek. Screech. Sob. We love that you ask for us with such definite fervor and desire. We love you. Happy 9 months.
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