Prayer (God) vs. Inaction (Satan)

  
You know sometimes we just aren't prepared to deal with something we read or see or feel, and we just put it aside.  This is how I felt when I read the story below.  I needed to put it aside.  It is soul-wretching.  Then I started to think about how Satan must rejoice everytime someone puts it "aside".  It's too hard...There's too many...What can I do...I'm already doing...

There is a popular Bible verse circulated in the adoption world. 

...once our eyes are opened, we can't pretend we don't know what to do.  God, who weighs our hearts and keeps our souls, knows that we know, and holds us responsible to act... Proverbs 24:12

It's a hard verse.  It hung over me before we said "yes" to adoption.  God had placed it on my heart, and I just couldn't put it aside.

Now, I ask you to read the article below.  It's not to guilt anyone into adoption.  It's to get people to pray for these children!  The Bible tells us...The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective.  James 5:16

Here is a story from All God's Children International, our adoption agency. (I couldn't figure out how to link, so I copied it over.)



Rwanda's Orphans…Waiting For Life To Unfold

We know that poverty means first of all to be hungry for bread, to need clothing, and to not have a home. But there is a far greater kind of poverty. It means being unwanted, unloved, and neglected. It means having no one to call your own." Mother Teresa

On my trip to Rwanda God has blessed me with an amazing privilege – to enter a Catholic orphanage, a legacy of Mother Teresa. Her work, which started in the slums of Calcutta, continues to spread all over the world, and I'm standing possibly where she once may have stood. Photos of this saintly women line the walls, giving her the honor she deserves for the millions of lives she brought hope to.

As we wait, one nun after another glances our way until one appears and cautiously agrees to show us around. As we walk down the steps, this gentle soul becomes very talkative. She is Indian and visiting from Calcutta. I'm glad she speaks wonderful English. Even though she is young, she is full of wisdom and compassion for both the orphans and the mentally handicapped adults whom she cares for personally. She first takes us to a room that we could only peek into because "the very little babies catch diseases too easily from Muzungos (white people)." Inside the rather dark and quiet room are three or four nuns watching over 20 to 25 babies.

THE FIELDS OF THE FATHERLESS

Our gentle guide then hurries us down a long, cement hallway to another room, much larger than the first. I'm shocked to see more than a hundred metal cribs, pushed together in clusters here and there. The silence is startling – not one baby is crying. Then I'm relieved to see that only half the cribs are filled. But in some of them little bare feet stick out through the bars… the cribs are too small. They appear as little prisons for the silent, big eyed, charcoal black babies that should have been someone's bundle of joy.

The stillness of the room causes my heart to freeze. Why are the babies so quiet? As I watch several nuns silently changing diapers or adding a bottle to a crib, I realize that our escort is talking to me. "What? What did you say?" I ask.

She began again. "All of these babies are orphans. True orphans. No father, no mother. They come to us sometimes in the middle of the night with umbilical cords still attached, naked, filthy from being birthed into a pit latrine hole (usually 20 feet deep), and they are left at our gate in plastic bags. Sometimes the person who found them in the latrine has put the newborn in a plastic bag and leaves the child in the road in the middle of the night because they don't want to be noticed by neighbors. The sector official gets up in the early morning to see if there are any bags on the road, and if so, he brings them to the metal gate. That is how we get most of our children."

Prostitutes, especially child prostitutes, and overburdened widows are desperate to get rid of their babies. They feel they have no other way. They are starving themselves. Some of their other children are beggars on the street. They live without hope in mud huts.

We have been in the room for only a few minutes when I find myself just standing and staring – at the rashes and open sores on a baby's skin (due to the bacteria and insects in the latrine), and at the broken legs of another baby (because of the birth fall down the deep pit). Orphaned, deformed, and with no arms to give comfort for her pain. Her world is cold, lifeless metal bars.

DOES ANYONE KNOW?

The impact of what I'm seeing and hearing now registers in tears. When I realize that I'm crying, my throat begins to clamp and I can no longer breathe in this airless room. I thought that men – the ones who had stifled life and dreams and hopes with the Rwandan genocide killings in 1994 – were the tormentors of these people. Hope is still gone for many Rwandans. I am now listening to this young woman tell me how thousands of mothers choose to dispose of their child, and in many cases the child dies alone in a bag.

I slowly look around the room. There are too many babies. My eyes and hands fall to the nearest one. I touch his frail fingers. My touch startles him. Did this little one come in a plastic bag only a few months ago? I didn't know this existed in our world. Does anyone know… and if we do will we care?

ANGELS OF LIGHT

Now we are ushered into the sunlight and end up under an awning where children are sitting. I hear clamor. Laughing and energetic children, 3 and 4 years old, are singing. They are about to eat, though it is only 10:30 in the morning. Sometimes the children take up to two hours to eat we're told, and the nuns (so few in number) are serving food literally heaped on the plates. They have all day.

One animated little girl in a dirty gray dress is too adorable as she stands on her chair, crawls over the back, and then proceeds to announce something while standing on the table. She is gently placed back in her seat and encouraged to eat her lunch. But she stands again on her chair with a mischievous smile and even more loudly proclaims something for all to hear.

These sounds of joy, in contrast to the baby room only 20 feet behind me, are remarkable. I make the connection – these wonderful women of God nurture and transform lifeless, lost babies that someone thought unwanted refuse into happy, healthy children. God bless these angels of light whom He has sent. This is their calling, their life. Most assuredly, their reward is in heaven.

HOPE IN THE DARKNESS

Although the children are unclean and not at all well dressed, and it is clear there must not be enough clothing for the 55 children I count at the long table, the miracle is that they are happy! They get to play outside and bang drums and run around. My frozen heart begins to melt as I see God's presence in their smiles, the nuns' gentleness, and the photos of Jesus on the outdoor brick walls. The love of Jesus shines in the darkest corners of earth. I believe it is His way to show hope. Hope grows in the most desperate of places.

There are 130 children in this orphanage, and all are waiting. They don't know they are waiting – right now they are a mass of humanity just longing for life to unfold. Like a rose bud. The petals are fragile, but each uniquely beautiful. They are too young for dreams or opinions or even the knowledge of a family. They know caring, yet I don't think they understand love. They only know to reach for the hands of the nuns, but most will never be embraced by the arms of a mother.

REMEMBERING ALWAYS…

Every inconvenience of my life is now shallow. Every disappointment is mute. Today, my Father in heaven has shown me some of His children who have been suffering. He has them in His hand right now, but He wants to bring them home and into the lives of caring, loving families waiting to reach out with hope's embrace. They need the touch they have been deprived of. They need love. They deserve so much. My plea comes from the bottom of a mother's heart, a grandmother's heart. Most affectionately I send it to the families that are considering adopting a child: HERE THEY ARE. Please help them find their way home.

Remember always the words of the Lord in John 14:18, words from His heart that we must never forget to speak on His behalf to the children who wait: "I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you… ." We need to take these words and live them out as the Father leads us. We all must come to them in any way we can.

Picture of God's Grace

  
"...For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am farfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be..."   Psalm 139: 13-16

I love infant baptism.  I believe that there's no better picture of God's grace.  Even though they know nothing about God, God already loves them and calls out to them by name.  Of course, it is up to them as when and how they answer.  As parents, our responsibility is to help them remember "who they belong to" and to respond to God's invitation.  The invitation that existed even before they were born.

On Saturday, we celebrated BB's "Remember Your Baptism".  She was so excited about the day.  She couldn't wait to help out with all the preparations.  She wanted to help with the cake, get the table just right, and determine the seating arrangements.

She has always been excited about "her" day, but she seems to be really thinking about it and asking questions.  She was very proud that the family came over to celebrate with her.

thank goodness for a tripod and an automatic timer

 

 

...poor Dad ...still eating...

 

anxiously awaiting the okay to open presents

Granny and Great Aunt Chris gave her $3 a piece.  When I asked her what she wanted to do with her money, she said that she wanted to buy some donuts.  What??? None to church, etc.???  Just when you think she's "getting" it...but...then on Monday, she surprises you and wants to buy some "stuff" for the children in Haiti.  So, we head to the Dollar Tree and she picked out hand santitizer, baby wipes and toothpaste.  It's a proud Mommy moment!!

Dear SnuggleBug, I hope you know that there could never be a more beautiful you, and you were made to fill a purpose that only you could do!

Dear God, Thank you so much for Snugglebug.  She is such a blessing.  Dear Lord, I pray that she always knows that she is a precious child of God, and that there is a calling on her life.  I pray that she knows and fulfills her calling with passion.  I also pray that her relationship with you grows as she grows.  In your holy and precious name.  Amen!

  

Melkin Gena (Merry Christmas!)

Today is Christmas in Ethiopia.  In researching, I thought that it was most interesting that they do not celebrate with exchanging gifts.  If a gift is given, then it is most likely clothes, probably a "“shamma” – a white cotton wrap with brightly coloured stripes across the ends.  This would be worn to church.

Celebrations begins on the eve where people gather at churches to pray and chant. Usually, most Ethiopian Orthodox Christian Pilgrims flock to Lalibela's rock-hewn churches for Christmas fast the whole day on Christmas Eve.  (Lalibela is one of Ethiopia's holiest cities dating back to the 12th and 13th centuries, and it's rock-hewn churches are still active.)

On Christmas Day, just before dawn, believers dress in the traditional “shamma” and gather for the early morning mass.  Each person entering the church will be given a candle, and the celebrations begin under flickering candles.  Priests dressed in turbans and red and white robes and carrying beautifully embroidered fringed umbrellas will begin the colourful procession with prayers and songs.  Deacons and choirs will also join the priests in song and dancing and veneration of their creator.  The sound of bells and music from the churches are heard far and wide until the late hours of the morning.  Before the end of the service, priests will serve Holy Communion to worshipers.

On their return from church, families gather.  Young and older men play a hockey-like game that is also called Ganna, which is played with a curved stick and a round wooden ball. The traditional Christmas dish includes “injera”, a sourdough pancake-like bread, and “doro wat”, a spicy chicken stew served in a wide watertight basket.

Ganna is not an occasion for giving gifts in Ethiopia. Religious observance, feasting, and games are the focus of the season.

Below is an excerpt from an Ethiopian Website taken today:

...on Christmas eve, the religious leaders delivered their Christmas messages in which they urged Christians to observe the day with needy people who have nothing to eat...In their Christmas messages on Wednesday, religious leaders called on all Christians to provide support to the poor people and work together towards development of the country.  The Patriarch of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church, Abune Paulos said Christians should provide support to people living with HIV/AIDS, orphans and destitute people while celebrating the day.  The Patriarch said the day should be celebrated with love and forgiveness as God revealed love to humankind on the day. The Archbishop of the Ethiopian Catholic Church, Abune BerhaneEyesus on his part said support being provided to the needy should be aimed at enabling them to become self-supportive...

Adoption Update...

When we first got on "the list", we were told that the referral process for a little boy was about 3 to 6 months.  But, since our age perimeters were over 12 months, then it would probably be closer to 3 months due to the fact that 90% of  those waiting are requesting a 0-12 month old.

Well, next week marks our 3rd month on the waiting list.  Our case manager should be calling us within the next week or so to give us an updated waiting list number, which is routine.  But, even though we are #13 right now, we very well could get a referral call any day.  I'm feeling like January could be the month. 

a little logistical information:
In Ethiopia the courts shut down for at least a month around September.  During this time, referrals may trikle out, but no one can travel to pick up their children.  The courts reopenned on October 5th, and our orphanage's first travel groups went on Dec 8th and 25th.  It's like the wheels are just now starting to get going again since August.  When a child leaves the facility, there is another child waiting to take that child's spot.  (Traditionally, the orphans are transferred from a government-run orphanage to a transitional home like Hannah's Hope where they wait to be adopted.) So, with so many children leaving the facility, there is probably another group of children just entering the orphange.  Our son is probably in that group.

It is an emotional thought with conflicting feelings.  My soul hurts for him.  I hate that he has to endure any loss or grief - any of those "why" questions.  My heart breaks for the mother that says good-bye - for whatever reason.  And, I am not to be the judge.  At the same time, I am so excited that this could be the month that we see our son's picture.  And, I pray for his wholeness.  I pray that his belly is full and that he has someone to hold him and take care of him until we can come get him.  I am so thankful for the privilege of being his mom.

The Race

 

Holly: I want to buy Sarah, her daughter, a shirt that says "My mommy runs faster than your mommy."

Me:  I think that would be hilarious.

Then at our Sunday School's Christmas Party, the smack starts over the potential t-shirt.  Something is said about a shirt that says "My mommy runs faster than your daddy."  Then SB adds his comments about well, maybe longer but not faster. It's decided that a race that night isn't really feasible.

Well, the next day in Sunday School, the smack talk continues.  By the time it is over, Holly and SB are going to race 1 mile on New Year's Day at 2 pm at the local high school track.

Over the course of the next 10 days, the pot sweetens and pride is no longer the only motivator.  If SB wins, then Holly comes over and cooks dinner for everyone.  (Holly is an excellent cook, so this is quite the prize.)  If Holly wins, then SB has to buy Sarah a shirt that says "My mommy runs faster than AB's daddy."  Male pride is soooo on the line.

We have a few families over for New Year's Eve, the smack talk continues.  SB trying to get Holly to have just one more glass of wine, and Holly trying to get SB to eat and drink some more. 

Race Day....It is sunny at 33 degrees with a 23 degree windchill.  (In other words, pretty from inside your house.) It's agreed that everyone will do their personal best and be on their best behavior.  Afterall, the kiddos are watching.  

It starts friendly enough....

BB is ready to start cheering for Daddy.

 

They are sooo close.

 

We watch in anticipation.  (Uncle T and Aunt N are down from MI visiting.)

The girls cheer for their dad.

And, the winner is....

SB: 6:50

Holly 7:10

Of course, they both thought they had it in the bag.  SB thought Holly would be lucky to run it in 8 minutes, and Holly thought that SB wouldn't have the endurance to keep up.

(Holly is a marathon runner, and SB works out, but no cardio.)

"I am so glad that it is over."

SB catching his breath :)

Of course, it is all in good fun.

He Came.....

 

At 6ish in the morning.....girls running down the steps yelling...."he came...he came....Santa came."  SB and I hop up out of bed to discover that the girls had found the goodies that Santa left for them. 

 

"How did he know that I wanted a pink one with flowers!?!"

   

 '03 Model was very pleased with her doll "with hair".

 

Next it was stocking time... (Santa leaves them an unwrapped present and then fills their stockings.)

 

Yes, bubble bath is very exciting...

...so is a Strawberry Shortcake sticker book...

...and lotion...well, it's the best...

Santa doesn't just leave any ol' rocks...only blue sparkly rocks will do...

...the rock joy continues...

 

  The girls giving a little love to Dad.

Even Symba gets in on the action.  Her new bone kept her busy for at least an hour.

Next, it was on to Mom and Dad presents....

A bottle top necklace...I just love the facial expressions...

"How did you pick out the exact one that I wanted?!?"

BB loves the ornament that Big Sis picked out for her.  (They exchange ornaments every year.)  It is a Hannah Montana guitar ornament.

BB gives us the present that she made for us at preschool.  It is a beautifully painted star with her picture on it.

 

Big Sis gives us the present that she made for us at school.  The wrapping paper is perfectly decorated.  It is the best calendar ever!  I also got a Snuggie from the girls.  It is perfect.  I'm all snug in it right now and am still able to type :)

Gobbie reads BB the Polar Express.

 

Papa and Big Sis play "War".  Santa brought BB the card game in her stocking, and it was a hit.  Of course, it is like you remember....it takes forever!!!

 

Of course the day was complete with....

Yes...a few snowflakes.

The Night Before Christmas...gifts, food, family, sickness, and Our Saviour's Birth

  

 The day started off great.  We head over to Uncle M and Aunt K's house for brunch and presents before church.

 

At any given time, one of the girls, if not both, can be found hanging off of Uncle M.

 

Cousin I sporting his new orphan shirt.

It's a musical kinda Christmas.  AB excited over her new flute (recorder) and lap harp.

BB wants to start painting right away.

AB is thrilled with all her new "smooth" rocks.

Of course, the hit of the night was...

Gobbie got this wonderful teacher gift and was so gracious to share.  I wish my picture did it justice.  The scale is a little off.  Just to give you an idea...it serves 17.  It was pure heaven!!!!

But no get together would be complete without a little wrestling...

Unfortunately, when it was time to go to church, AB had an upset stomach.  So, we went home.  The girls all stayed behind, while "Dad" went to church and helped with parking.  It was memorable as I am cleaning vomit off of my pants while holding AB's hair while she continues to vomit for the 3rd time and hear Lil' Sis in the background yelling that she needs my help because she has spilled paint all over the kitchen floor and her pants. (Yes, that lovely paint set that she had just gotten.)  Luckily everything is washable, and I could just laugh at the situation.

Even though the evening didn't go as planned, it actually turned out to be just perfect.

 

After I got everything cleaned up, SB got home and took the little one, so I could focus on AB.  She was feeling better, and we went and just laid in her bed.  It was totally peaceful.  We just laid on her bed, and I told her all about the night Our Saviour was born.  She was like a sponge absorbing the story and talking about what it might have been like to see all of the angels out in the field.  Do you think the angels were all in white?  Or do you think they had on all different colors?  It was an "awe" moment.  Throughout Advent, we were doing a family devotional, which was great!  But, I think it was the first time that I really stopped and was totally in the moment.  And, she was right there with me. 

As I tucked her in for the night and prayed that she would be better for Christmas day, she reminded me to tell Lil Sis to leave out some cookies and milk for Santa and some cherrios for the reindeer.  And, to tell Jack Pete, our elf, goodbye and to tell him that she is sick.  That's my girl.