My Golden Calf

Last night as I was falling asleep I was meandering through thoughts in my mind about feeling inadequate.  Inadequacy is a state I have become familiar with in the past year.  There have been periods of my adult life I have felt quite put together, orderly, predictable, stable... all words to describe having it all under control.  But the last year has challenged that in me, and I am beginning to believe it is for the better.  I needed God to undo me to show me his reign in my life and to let me know that my idea of holding it all together was a thin film over the reality of chaos just out of sight.  Chaos, that is, without the one who holds all things in his firm grasp.

I was also thinking about, just as I can act like I'm in control in my world, I can do just the opposite as well, and act like because I am feeling inadequate, that I am powerless.  "Inadequate" may just be my backhanded way of saying, "God, there's nothing that can be done", as if my powerless has anything to do with His.  In my myopic view, stuck in self-absorption, I am saying,  

"I'm not big enough, so you must not be big enough either.  Move over God, I'm worshipping the twin idols of fear and self-pity.  I don't have enough room for your greatness."

I am beginning to realize that both extremes are really just different poles on the same line of idolatry.  I am either holding trust in my own self-sufficiency over God, or holding my inadequacy above his greatness.  In either case, I am taking my eyes off the one who longs to be Lord of my life, and who knows the plans he has for me, and replacing him with a thing that is powerless.

So I am trying to start fresh at being sensitive to the Spirit's guiding and not being so quick to think with grandiosity or despair.  I just ask that you pray for me that  I may be centered in God's will, find my value, meaning, and joy there, and that my life may be filled with fruit so that I can boast in what God has done in me. 

Big Enough-
by Ayiesha Woods

Whack-A-Mole

Worry can play funny tricks on us.  When there are so many things to be thinking and keeping track of, the littlest notions can take up disproportionate space in my brain.  Lately, worries about my teeth have taken hold.  Not just mine, but that of my kids, too, since we have gone years without dental insurance and by default, dental care.  I  have some issues going on in my mouth that may have provoked the worry, and Elijah has been complaining of tooth pain lately, but in the past month it seems nearly every day I have been carrying unspoken anxiety that pops up, mole-like, at random moments. 

On Thursday, Elijah was complaining of a toothache while eating with others, and before I could whack-a--mole the thought, out popped a public comment about not being to the dentist in awhile.  Filter girl, filter!  I tried to just move on in the conversation, feeling a little dumb for blurting too much info.  That night, as I stood in the solace of the shower, the worry sprang to life, this time, a tummy-twisting knot intent on stealing my moment of peace.  As a lump of tears rose in my throat, I prayed.

It was a small prayer.  There with Pantene lather only half-rinsed out, I paused and lifted my hands, just asking God to take the worry, saying, "Lord you have the resources to meet our needs.  Everything we have is yours, so if it's your will, please make a way for us to take care of our teeth before we leave for Haiti.  And if not, please give me a peace to cover the anxiety." 

Praying about teeth feels silly.  What right do I have to ask the God of the universe to pay for my teeth and take care of my petty anxieties when there are so many pressing needs in this world? 

So that was it.  I moved on, really not giving that moment another thought.  The kids and I went to visit cousins in the Twin Cities for a couple of days.  Friday night, after everyone else in the house had gone to bed, I called Kirk to touch bases and see how his day had gone.  Before ending the conversation, he added, "oh, and something kind of cool happened today - I got an e-mail from someone and we're going to get help with our dental needs.  We just have to call and make an appointment."  Someone had heard my indiscreet comment about Elijah's teeth and for some reason chose to take action.  They made a few calls that turned into dental care for all of us.  They had no idea what I had been thinking and feeling for days, what I was going to pray that night, what God would do with their action...

Even before remembering my prayer the day before, tears came to my eyes with the relief of relieved anxiety.  And then I caught my breath as I rolled back the moment in my mind of the small prayer just the night before.

My little worries are enough for God to take notice of? 

My teeth can fit into his agenda right there next to dying babies and earthquakes?

I don't want this lesson to be lost on me, but this is really big to hold, that the God who holds both universes and sparrows can hold my worries, too!  I know this truth in a Sunday School way, but then there are moments like this, where the clarity becomes blinding.  It's like moving to the next story up in a building and realizing that in addition to city there is a beautiful forest or lake shore a little ways off.  God is changing my perspective, whacking my moles, moving my mountains,  showing me his greatness, and his great care.

  There may be days ahead where He will want me to lean on him through greater hardship or perhaps many days of little worries.  Can I learn to trust Him through it all and not be too prideful to ask for His hand?  Can I live like I know He is great?   "Oh Lord, you are much greater than I give you room to be! Open my eyes to Your fullness and replace my independence with full dependence on You!"

The Desires of Our Heart... Precious Rose

I had a chance to tell a bit about how we came to the point of adopting, but not how we decided on two, and how it came to be Rose. 

After deciding to adopt at all, Kirk felt strongly that if we were going to adopt one, we should adopt two in order to help keep some balance in our family between American and Haitian.  Having two Haitian children, he reasoned, would help us better identify with the Haitian part of our family, and since we had two biological boys and knew we were getting Natalie, we decided on two Haitian girls.  Easier for sharing a room, passing along clothing, etc.  (That, and Momma wanted to play with ribbons and dresses and pretty shoes!)  So we waited for our 2nd referral. 

While we were in Haiti we had time every morning where we would go to the baby house and "check out" a baby for some 1:1 time.  Noah and Elijah would get a little overwhelmed by some of the older babies and toddlers who swarmed them like they were the Pied Piper, so it was not such a surprise that we gravitated to the infant room.  There Noah, especially, became attached to a sweet 9 month baby girl named Rose Guerda.  Rose is a common Haitian name but is usually used as part of two-part name like we would say, "Lilly Grace" or "Ruth Ann".

Rose Guerda had a halo of perfect, soft curls, winding for inches above her little head, milk chocolaty skin, eyes the deepest brown, and a gummy grin you couldn't help but respond to.  We would take her out for play time and Noah would make her giggle and belly laugh!  She would look right into his brown eyes with her own deeper brown ones and he was taken - smitten with a baby girl!  She tracked his movement, waiting for him to entertain her, and lighting up when he showed up to play.  In the evening during prayer and singing time, while everyone lined the corridor, he would sneak into her room and talk to her if she was fussing and pat her back.  And sometimes we'd take her out and hold her close during singing and help her clap along.  She was Noah's special baby.

Typically referrals are not made until the dossier (the ginormous packet of certified forms and documents) reaches COTP in Haiti, because they don't want to "offer" a child to someone who may not be moving through the process very quickly and potentially leave out another family who is ready.  But in October, only two months into the process, we received an email from Robin, the adoption coordinator.

Kirk and Christina,

I wanted to run something by you. Because you have been in Haiti and have spent some time with a few of the kids, I thought I could let you know the situation and see what you think. Obviously, this is not how we normally do things, but because of the situation I feel its best to give you some time to think and pray about the situation.

You are waiting for a second referral of a little girl. Right now, the only little girl we have available/ready is Rose-Guerda. She is a sweet little girl who is almost 1 years old (November 2nd). However, she is behind developmentally. She does seem a little "off", but no one can really pin-point how or why. It could just be that she was so severely malnourished and taking extra time to catch up. At nearly 5 months old she only weighed 6lbs. I am attaching her medical. Its not fully updated, but you can at least see it up to July of this year. If you have any specific questions, please let me know. I will answer whatever I can.

 

Robin

 

 

Rose Guerda.  Noah's special baby!  The concerns of developmental needs were only momentary as we realized God had picked her for us, and us for her, before we even knew we were thinking of adopting.  God knew.  He knew the brokenness in the world that allowed the kind of despair that grips Haiti.  He knew her mother had struggled to raise her own babies in the belly of poverty with all it's physical, mental, and relational devastation.  He knew she would do anything to give her baby a chance at life when she was near death.  He knew what would be in her mother's heart and mind when she gave up her child.  He knew the hands that would nurse this innocent one back to health, who would visit from across the seas to tickle her belly with laughter, who's hearts would be pricked to love one of these, who would write, who would smile, who would realize the greatness of His plan.  God knew.

 

And we celebrated how once again, our child was no accident, no coincidence, no mistake.  Rose was God's and he was entrusting her to us.

 

 

Rose - healthy and happy
 March 2012

 

 

 

How it All Began (Part IV - He Can Move Mountains)

It is now Fall 2011.  The chaos is not quite so fresh and raw, and while the turmoil in our lives is not over, it is becoming more manageable.  I said to a friend at work, "I don't know if the stress has lessened or if I have just adjusted to my new normal".  Our family has begun to function relatively well in our home school setting after a bumpy start, Noah is still having intermittent rage episodes, but we often deal with them better, adoption paperwork is moving along, and I sometimes keep up with the laundry.  I am doing everything in my power to keep our lives orderly, calm, predictable, and controlled, turning down usual church and social engagements, etc.

Kirk and I were sitting on the couch talking one evening, and he told me, "Chris, I want to move to Haiti".  He had mentioned this before, and in fact, we had talked with Children of the Promise staff and knew we would be a welcomed addition to the team on the ground.  When he would ask what I thought, I mostly tried to placate him with a casual, "okay, I'll think about it," but on this night I could tell from his steady gaze, he was becoming more intent on making this a reality.  He had begun talking this over with friends and family, and finally that night on the couch, I just blurt out, "No!  I don't want to go to Haiti.  I am not saying never, but not now.  Please don't keep bringing it up!"  I didn't really even want to think about it.  I wanted safety.  I wanted security.  I wanted normalcy.  And Haiti represented none of those things to me.

It seems there are moments in marriage where the road splits, where your hearts and dreams are no longer unified.  It's a really uncomfortable place.  Unity seems threatened and you wonder in a scared corner of your heart if this is where divorce starts.  What will it take to remain one. 

Kirk was hurt.  He felt I had been stringing his dream along.  I felt relieved to be from under the pressure of a plan I secretly wanted very little to do with.  And so we were at an impasse.  But we did continue to talk.  We began thinking about other options for our lives, other paths we might take.  And Kirk began to pray.  He prayed God would turn around the hearts of his wife and kids, and that He would plant desire and joy in our hearts for Haiti.  And I prayed that God would heal my family and lead where He wanted us to be.

The time of day I most love is late in the evening when the house is quiet and I have space to myself.  Quite often I spend time checking e-mail, playing games, reading news, and following interesting ideas and stories.  One night in January, I found myself randomly searching for pictures of Haiti, looking for Creole language sites, and researching the flora and fauna of the island.  (Yes, I'm that dorky.)  And in the days to come I began to feel drawn to Haiti.  I started reading books about Haiti, began practicing phrases, following bloggers of other humanitarian missionaries in Haiti, and talking more about Haiti in my day to day.  Slowly I recognized a hunger, a desire for Haiti growing inside of me.  I began to mention "what if" scenarios such as "I wonder if we could build a mosquito net frame out of bamboo for above our bed, if we lived in Haiti?" or "What if we could grow apple trees on the compound if we lived in Haiti?"  (And no you can't.  The U of MN extension office teaches apple trees need dormancy, in case you're curious.)

The idea of home has special significance in my mind.  I feel most grounded with a sense of place that "home" seems to conjure.  Maybe not so unlike many women, my nest is my safe place where I nurture and care for my family.  I like to put everything in it's place and leave it there.  Forever.  I have always had a hard time moving, so even though I love adventure, the idea of not having a place to return to is very unsettling.  But somehow in these days of realization, I started to feel like it would be okay to let go of my house.  I started envisioning what "home" would look like in Haiti, and how I might make that space warm and inviting for my family and guests.

So there it was. I wanted to move. I wanted to be in Haiti and there was a joy and excitement in my heart that was propelling me forward, calling me like home. And I knew it was not myself, but God moving my heart toward the center of His will, knitting my husband's and my will into His greater plan and giving us immense satisfaction in Him.

  I am going to miss apples.  I'm going to feel humbled by my kid's behavior with the whole compound hearing our "business".  I'm going to get sick and hate mosquitoes.  I'm going get tired, and probably crabby at times.  I'm going to want a mug of green tea with my Mom.  I'm going to get scared, and maybe hurt.  I'm going to want to go "home".  But I trust that the God who moved the mountains in  my stubborn and selfish heart will be enough, and will teach me, and hold me, and show me joy, and be my home.

Lord you have been our dwelling place throughout all generations.  Before the mountains were born or you brought forth the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God.  Psalm 90 1,2

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.  I will say of the Lord, "He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust." Psalm 91:1

La Citadel, in Haiti