re·as·sur·ance

noun

• the action of removing someone's doubts or fears.
• a statement or comment that removes someone's doubts or fears.

 It's been eight months now.  Eight months of redefining our family and eight months of digging deep.  It's been a sweet time of redemption and victories and it's been a challenging time of stretching and growing.  

Fact is, I wouldn't change one second of it.  

For those of you that have talked me down from the ledge, I know you're probably thinking, "Not even that one really hard day?"  Nope, not even that one.  It's taken me some time (I can sure be a slow learner when it comes to this thing called life) but today, I received a gift. It didn't come with a bow and truthfully, I almost missed it in the mundane. You see, it was tucked in between packing lunches and dirty dishes and answering the same question for what seems like the millionth time. 

"Will you always be my mom and dad?"  

How can it be that this question has become routine?  This is a question I've been asked a lot in the last eight months.  It wasn't in the 'parenting manual'. (Okay, where is that manual anyway?) It wasn't in the dream that I had painted when I was a young mom staring into the face of my first born.  My devotion to motherhood has always been a given in my eyes.  I've never waivered and I've never questioned. As we stood in the kitchen this morning, I looked deep into the eyes of uncertainty. The simple task of parting ways for the day was bringing about insecurity and a sense of abandonment. It hurt my heart so much the first time these words fell on my ears. How must it feel to not hold the assurance of unconditional love?  What turmoil comes with the unknown?  Admittedly though, I've grown impatient. I've been inconvenienced by the challenge of running to the store or even using the bathroom without tripping over a waiting a child and answering this same question again, sometimes asked with eyes only. I've allowed myself to grumble and moan about the extra time and extra words it can take some days. 

...and then, I started doubting my Father.

Isaiah 40:28 ~ Do you not know? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom.

I started to question if He was really there through the thick of it and if He would always be there, even if I was broken. I wondered if He was listening and if He could hear the urgency in my repeated requests. Would He always be my Father?  Today, in the mundane of life, He gave me reassurance once again. If in my humanity, I can without a doubt reassure my son that he will never look to the skies again and pray for a family, then how can I not know that my Father, who knit me together before my first breath will never abandon me? 

Comfortable Discomfort

I've heard it said that adoption turns your life upside down and your heart right side up. At the time, it sounded like a catchy little phrase to use in a blog post.

Okay, it is.

In the last 3 weeks, this has become so much more than a phrase though. It is our life. We boarded a plane with our 'luggage' full of expectations and fears not so long ago but, somehow we over packed. When we said yes to adoption nearly 2 years ago, there was no way to know what we were signing up for. We heard the stories...oh yes, we heard them. People feel compelled to share them just like a group of women will tell labor stories when your pregnant. All in good intention, right? We also seen the sweet faces of children waiting for their families that were coupled with stories that gripped my heart. It was hard not to fall in love with each one of them. I will admittedly say that we fell in love with Daniel's infectious smile and his need for a family first. We fell in love with obedience to a God who had rescued us and called us his own and we knew that we had to respond.  What we didn't know was what it required.  I won't relive the roller coaster that put Great America to shame. The adoption process is hard. What I will tell you is that every single obstacle was met with provision and every single road block gave way.

Now, we are on a new leg of the journey.  We've been home for 1 week now and the only way I can describe it is a comfortable discomfort.  Allow me to explain...

I have been on three mission trips to Africa, two of which were to my son's birth country. Each time I return home, I feel like I'm in a fog. It is hard for me to find my place in such contrasting cultures and I'm always left asking God how to respond to what I've seen, felt, heard, smelled...  Although my recent time in Burkina was not mission related, I believe that when you have a heart seeking this very question to God, He is always answering.  This trip was no exception.  This time my husband was by my side and he too was feeling the pull at his heart.  It is one thing to fall in love with a picture.  It is one thing to see the faces of poverty and need through a computer monitor. It is another thing all together when it is standing next to you on the corner, or when you are holding it's severely disabled child. It doesn't leave you when you are standing in the walls of it's church or when you are holding it's hand.  It sticks with you.  ...sometimes, it comes home with you and you look into its eyes each and every day and it compels you to give more of yourself than you even knew existed.  

This picture doesn't look like much but it is a glimpse of what it looks like to have your heart turned right side up. This is a picture of Daniel's leftovers from last night. These are the few things that he didn't care for and had picked out of his supper and rolled into a napkin. He's a great eater but hey, how many kids really like cooked carrots and cabbage?  When he had finished eating and cleared his spot from the table he motioned to the napkin, asking me where to put it. I told him he could put it in the garbage but he looked confused. I said it again because I wasn't sure he heard me correctly. One of the things Daniel has loved to help with is the garbage and I was sure this was something he was familiar with.  As he heard me say it again and point towards the pantry where our garbage is kept, he again met my charades with a puzzled look. Finally, he asked me in French, "donate?"            

What Daniel was saying is, "Mama, who can we give this to?"  

Just a few weeks ago I had tucked an old, mostly eaten piece of bread into a black plastic bag at the guest house we stayed at because quite frankly, I was embarrassed to throw it away and have the grounds keeper find it in our garbage. The next morning as I turned the corner to hang clothes out to dry, there sat the black plastic sack with the old bread, waiting to be eaten. People just don't throw food away. There were many times in the two weeks we were in Burkina that we handed food out to children in need or gave empty plastic water bottles to those who have no means to carry water on a 100+ degree day. Daniel was the first to give joyfully! It was just a given each day to share everything we had.  I'd like to think we live our lives with intention in our culture as well. We try to be available to what needs God places before us...but I don't know if it becomes uncomfortable.  

As we bring our first week to a close, learning what our new normal is, there is a comfortable discomfort in our house. It is one that demands that we respond to what we can't un-know.  It asks us to dig deep and to be aware. It reminds us that as we find shelter in the walls of our home and our bellies are full each night, there are still needs that we know exist and they ask us to open our hearts.  

This is the face of our "yes" to God.  This is the face of our comfortable discomfort, one we are so grateful for.  I urge you to ask God today what He wants you to trust him with, and respond.  

In His Grace,

Lisa

I am a blog junkie.  There, I said it. I'm also a documentary junkie, an article junkie, and a talk radio junkie. I can't seem to get enough of the stuff.  I love the way an author or a speaker can reach right into my heart sometimes and pull out what has been just taking up space.  Or how a line from a story in someone else's life can make me think differently than I have in the past.

I love to learn and I love to grow.

This past week, as I was putting in some 'windshield time', I was listening to Jill Savage speak on Midday Connection.  Her story and her testimony was compelling but, there is really only one thing that has stuck with me like glue.  Tucked in the words she shared was this... "Don't compare your 'behind the scenes' with other peoples 'highlight reel'." She challenged us as listeners to think about how it used to be that we would see people who appeared to be neat and put together, living the life we'd wished we had, on occasion and then we would go about our lives, wanting more.  Now, we see those people every time we pull up Social Media and it sometimes leaves us feeling like we just aren't measuring up.  My first thought was, "how silly would it be to compare your life with someone's Facebook feed?" I mean, everyone knows that those are just snippets of peoples actual lives, right?

Maybe.  Maybe not.

The last several years, I have invited many of you into our lives as we said, "Yes" to adoption.  I've tried to be transparent as we have experienced the highs and lows of this process, learning how to love what Jesus loves, orphans and widows (James 1:27).  It has blown the door wide open to new friendships, a deeper compassion, and commitment I have never known before...and through months, nearly 2 years of 'expecting', God has shown his glory in some pretty powerful ways.

I was talking with a good friend/fellow adoptive mom this week.  She was sharing with me how her heart and her physical being were feeling a bit worn from mommy-hood.  After all, it's a job that is not for the faint of heart.  It requires being 'on' at all times and when there are hurts that can't be fixed by you, well... that just plain stinks.  We talked about the dynamics in their home and what the dynamics in my own home may look like in just a short while.  After all, we are riding the 'high' right now.  We are singing the victory hymn and we are basking in the taste of a battle hard fought on our behalf.  But what will our song sound like in a few shorts months?  As we continued our conversation, I confessed to my friend that I was struggling with our family being somehow identified as "wonderful" or how Daniel would be considered "lucky to have us". Didn't they know that just a few days ago, 2 out of my 4 children were disappointed in me by 7 a.m.!  Didn't they know that I have a sink full of dishes and duct tape holding the drawer of my refrigerator together? Don't they realize that I have fears and insecurities and that sometimes I wonder if I could possibly be trusted by God to guide my children or be a helper and a partner to my husband?

...then it hit me.  The 'highlight reel'.

Oh, dear friends.  I want to set the story straight.  We are not wonderful... but God is!  I mean that with every fiber of my being.  What we are is available.  We have decided to step out of what is comfortable to love what Jesus loves, because we love Him.  We are committed, and we are trusting God but most of all, we are flawed and we are dependent on Him.  I need you to know that our behind the scenes are produced in the same studio as yours and when I am tempted to compare our lives to your highlight reel, I'm going to remember the same.

Sometime ago, I wrote this in the back of my Bible to serve as a reminder.  

These words are just as true today as they were over 500 years ago.  

I have been overwhelmed by the way God has brought so many of you alongside us.  It has been like salve to a wound during some trying times.  In the months ahead, as we are settling in and learning the script of a new cast at our house, we will be encouraged knowing that so many of you have already given us great reviews, simply because you believe in what God has called us to.  

All my love, 

-Lisa