All in a Name

I was pulling into my neighbors driveway so that I could shovel the snow in my own before I parked my van on it.  I was pulling in as I got the phone call. I answered the phone as the kids jumped out of the van to play with the neighbor kids. It was our dear friend Jerry who was also our adoption counselor. He said without hesitation, "You've  been chosen by a birth mom." I could hear his smile over the phone and I am sure he could hear mine as I began to ask questions. "What's the birth mom's name? When is she due? Is she healthy? Who is the birth father?" Jerry quickly began to answer my questions. As I watched my kids run around in the yard and play in the snow I learned about Victoria. She was 20 years old and four weeks away from her due date. She had broken off the relationship with the birth father and he wasn't involved. Victoria was living in a home for pregnant women and young mothers. She was working hard toward getting her GED. Then he asks, "Do you accept this baby?" My heart raced with excitement as I gave my answer,"Yes!" I will never forget that January 28th day.



Victoria while pregnant with our baby girl.



Several day later I paced my kitchen floor. The kids were in their rooms playing with the threat of being grounded for the rest of their lives if they came out. I watched the clock as the numbers ticked away. Any minute the phone would ring and I would get to talk to Victoria for the very first time. I was terrified. What if she didn't like me and changed her mind? How do I convey my love for her and her baby without sounding like a complete nut? Then the phone rang. I jumped at the sound. Jerry asked if I was ready and then introduced Victoria to me. I asked her how she was feeling and what her future plans were. She told me that she was doing really well and the pregnancy has been very easy. She wanted to get her GED and then go to college. Then she told me that she was planning on naming the baby Faith Elizabeth but that I didn't need to keep it. We both knew it was meant to be when I explained that the name Faith Elizabeth was on our list for a baby name. She had picked the name Faith because the pregnancy had changed the path she had been on and strengthened her faith in God. She wanted the name Elizabeth because that is her own middle name and she wanted Faith to have her name. She was so excited to hear that we were considering the name. We loved the name Faith because we had taken a complete step of faith to adopt and we just loved the name Elizabeth.  I loved talking to her. It was like we had known each other forever. I sometimes think that the name Faith was put on our hearts to help us grow closer together and have peace that this is definitely His will.

My precious daughter

For so long I have prayed for a little girl to hold.

Her eyes so blue and her hair of gold.

I waited so patiently year after year.

Time and time again, "It's a boy" is what I would hear.

My plans have changed and my vision too.

You won't grow in my belly but still I wait for you.

Although our features we do not share.

I dream of your round brown eyes and your curly brown hair.

I long to touch your soft cheek.

To smell your fragrance so sweet.

I am not the only one who waits for you.

You also have a daddy and four brothers, too.

They talk about the day of your very first date.

I can see it now as all five site at the door and wait.

For they will hold your hand as you learn to walk.

And they will giggle as you learn to talk.

They will run beside your bike as you begin to ride.

But letting go of you will be a much harder stride.

Though we have never held you in our arms you are already in our hearts.

You have been loved by three all in parts.

First by God who is knitting together for you both a body and a soul.

Then by your birth mother, for you to have a life with a loving family was her goal.

And so very soon we will be holding you, our family you complete.

We will wait and pray for God to keep you safe and far from harm until we meet.

Daddies Arms

The year was 2003 and I had heard about an orphanage in the hills of South Dakota. I couldn't imagine an orphanage right here in the states. I had to do something to help so I organized a group to go there. The plan was go one Saturday a month to have breakfast with the children then give a skit, have songs and tell a bible story. When I called to set it up I was surprised by the push back. They said they had people volunteer all the time but after only a few visits they get busy and never come back. They said it has really hurt these kids to get to know someone and then they never come back. So we promised to commit for a year and then when the year was up we would see if it is still working for both parties.

Our first Saturday was filled with excitement. We drove into the hills amazed by the beauty. As we pulled in there was a hug log building with a playground beside it. This was the kind of place that you would bring your family for a retreat but for the children inside it was home. We went in with a group of twenty from our church and introduced ourselves. They gave us a tour of the building to include the kitchen where a meal was prepared three times a day for the thirty children and the staff. We saw the staff room where we were told about how they took turns living on site with another couple to try to keep from burning out. Some of our group began cooking as they brought out the kids to meet us. They were ages five to eleven with the exception for a three year old boy that had no where else to go. Once they hit twelve they "age out" because it is a home for both boys and girls they didn't allow teens to live there.

Breakfast was ready and the kids were busy getting to their seats while we all served them. Once the food was to the table we all said a prayer and took our seats among the kids to visit. There I sat looking around a sea of little faces. They were all smiles today as they were given so much attention but I could imagine the ache they must feel living a life without the love of a parent. My kids all so little saw little difference between the orphaned kids and themselves. They sat with them and visited just as if we were at our own dinner table. And just like at home just as soon you get food on the table the kids were done and ready to be entertained. We quickly cleared the table and the teens from our group began their skit. Jason and I sat at one of the table with our chairs facing the show. I held our youngest at the time, Jackson who was just around a year old. I looked over at Jason as he reached down and picked up that three year old boy and put him on his lap so he could see. They began laughing and singing together. I couldn't take my eyes off of them. They were so beautiful together. As things began to quiet down so all the kids could hear a bible story the little boy reached his arms up over his head, reached back and wrapped his hands around Jason's neck. Jason nestled in for a snuggle as the little boy looked up with big brown eyes and said, "will you take me home and be my daddy?" Jason's eyes teared up immediately and he said, "I wish I could."

Today I can't help to see the same faces in a crowd. They look much different but they have the same sadness. The sadness of disappointment, hurt or rejection from someone who is supposed to love you and help you. Sometimes it's the little things in life that really burden our hearts and other times it's something that feels like you will never get over. Don't forget that all you have to do is wrap your arms around God's neck and say, "Will you be my daddy?" His response won't be, "I wish I could." Instead he says, "Yes! Come to me. I will give you rest." Have you called for your daddy today?

Romans 8:15
So you have not received a spirit that makes you fearful slaves. Instead, you received God’s Spirit when he adopted you as his own children. Now we call him, “Abba, Father.”

Among Angels



Christmas '07
3 months before deployment
Alex-9, Nicholas-8, Jackson-6, Cooper-4



I couldn't allow myself to be broken hearted when Jason was deployed. I needed to be strong in front of the kids. So on the way to the airport I became increasingly upset that I couldn't send Jason with an extra twenty dollars for travel money. We had filled the fridge with food to last until the next pay check, maintained both cars, filled them with gas, bought Jason an extra three month supply of clothes and hygiene products. We had spent every penny we had that month. All I wanted was for him to travel in comfort and not worry about our finances. I felt like I had failed him in our budgeting. As we rounded the corner and the airport came into view I began to cry. Jason comforted me and told me that we had everything that we needed, anything else was just not necessary and that he was going to be fine. I pulled myself together and we held hands as we pulled the van into the parking space. Jason pulled his packs out of the car. Alex strapped Jason's carry-on to his back and Jason gathered his other two packs and lead his family toward the front door. I watched as cars stopped for my uniformed husband so he could cross the road. Each one of the boys like little ducks followed him in a line with myself at the end. My heart ached with each step. We went inside and got checked in with a boarding pass for Jason and a pass for all of us to go to the gate with him. We followed in silence to the security check point. I had to be strong. The boys couldn't see me loose it but all I could think of is that this could be the last time we all see him. We all emptied out pockets and took off our shoes. I sent Alex through the metal detector first so that he could be there to catch the younger boys as they went through. Jason had already gone through but had gotten stuck with security because his bag had to be searched. We passed him one by one. I gathered the boys and we carried our shoes to a bench at the other end of the large room. As I was tying the shoes of the younger two boys Jason joined us on the bench carrying his bag and his combat boots. Without a word we all continued to prepare for our inevitable good-bye. I heard a man's voice say to Jason, "Are you heading for combat?" I glanced up as I was knelt down tying the last shoe to see a large man with a very average looking face. Jason replied, "Yes sir." The man reached down to Jason where he sat on the bench with his hand extended. As Jason stood he shook his hand and the man said to him, "Stay safe over there." He walked over to me and I stood up. He shook my hand and said, "Thanks for supporting your husband in his efforts. Take your family for a snack and enjoy these last few minutes together." He was already turning from me to walk away as he released my hand. I looked into my hand and there was a bill. He had already walked into the crowd and disappeared before I could say thank you. I unfolded the bill and when I saw that it was one hundred dollars I was overcome with the feeling that the good Lord over fills my cup. I told Jason what he had given us. We finished getting our shoes on and walked over to the Starbucks on the concord. We sat as a family for the next forty-five minutes and talked about how God has provided. The kids all got a snack and Jason and I got a coffee. There was plenty of money left for Jason to have twenty dollars in his pocket as he traveled and for me to have cash in case of an emergency. God knew what was on my heart and he gave me peace. It was never about the money. It was about knowing that God was there. That he has provided more than we needed and that he was with Jason as he left us. It left me feeling like no matter what the outcome we would be okay. We weren't alone. God has provided angels to show himself to us.

^{Hebrews 1: 7} Regarding the angels, he says, “He sends his angels like the winds, his servants like flames of fire.”...¹⁴ Therefore, angels are only servants—spirits sent to care for people who will inherit salvation.


Fall '08
3 months after deployment
Alex- 10, Nicholas-9, Jackson-7 and Cooper-5



Alone

I have had my next story in my mind and have been praying for over a week that the Lord would give me the words to write. Jason asked recently why I haven't written anything yet and I told him that God had not given me the words yet. This morning the good Lord gave me words to a different story. This one takes me back a ways.

At just seventeen years old, young and scared, I enter the room that I had been living in for a week. Tables and chairs are in the middle of the room as they always are but now several men sit before me. All but one are elders of the congregation. The one that sits at the head of the table is the man who spends his time as both a minister and youth minister of this church. The one that was to take me on the mission trip that summer. I stood with my dear friend who rescued me. She and I both took a seat and the conversation began. First there was my account of how scriptures had been used to justify evil. Twisted and turned into perversion. The excuse he used to make it okay for him to plan a camping trip for just the two of us later that week. Then the most difficult memory that is burned into my mind. It's uncomfortably dark and cold. I sit on the couch where he wraps us both in a blanket and puts his arm around me. I try to control my terror. His wife gets home from work and I am thrilled to have someone come to my rescue but instead with wide eyes she says she is going to bed early. I find my opportunity and jump from the couch saying I too need to go to bed. I then walked back to the church building next door. I go down into the dark basement, past the tables and chairs and into a small room that has nothing but a bed. I lay down on my face and begin to cry and pray. I stayed that way until the early hours of the morning when I couldn't cry anymore and I fell asleep. I awoke a few hours later to the phone ringing. It was my rescue. What I know was my only way out.

I sit in front of these men embarrassed to tell my story of how I didn't scream for help. I wait for their response. They ask the minister for his explanation. He simply explains that I must have taken things the wrong way and that I am confused. The men sit quiet for a few minutes then reply that indeed there must have been a miscommunication. My last statement was not planned. To this day I believe the Holy Spirit guided my words. I said, "If you believe nothing else, believe this. He was swerving when he drove and before the summer is over he will wreck the van." We end the meeting in prayer and I walk out of  that room for the very last time. As I walked to my friends car one of the men asked to talk to me. Wrapping one arm around my shoulder in love he said he really hoped that I could forgive. Then he walked away. I went to church that night. I had done nothing wrong and had nothing to hide. I knew these people, they were my brothers and sisters in Christ. I sat in the front row where the missionaries always sat. I sat alone. Not one person came to sit with me. Not one person came to talk to me. I was thousands of miles from home and I sat completely alone.

I traveled home later that week. It's expected in the church that I speak nothing of what happened. It was never really said, I just knew and I didn't want anything to be construed as gossip or to speak badly about people that I should respect. Not one person from that congregation called to see how I was doing. Not one reached out. I suffered alone in silence. At the end of summer I got a call from a very good friend that had been on the mission trip the year before and had gone again that summer. I never had a chance to tell her what happened or why I wasn't there. She had called to tell me that on their way home he had rolled the van down a ravine. Everyone was okay but the elders have decided not to allow him to work with the teens anymore. He worked there as the pulpit minister for another three years.

PTSD, post traumatic stress disorder. This is what I learned I had nearly fifteen years later. It explained why I was terrified every time I went to church. I shivered and broke out into a cold sweat. Over the years I learned how to control it. No one ever suspected. I have weird triggers, sometimes I don't even know when to expect them. After I set my monster free I was able to bring more of Christ into my heart and get rid of what held my heart captive. I finally began to heal. I know that most won't experience anything to this degree but I can say that many will have hurts. All I can do is hope that there will never be such expected secrecy. I know we don't want gossip but there has to be a way to encourage one another in the name of the Lord. Don't spend one minute allowing a brother or sister in Christ to hurt alone for any reason. Reach out and love each other.

Philippians 2:1-5 Is there any encouragement from belonging to Christ? Any comfort from his love? Any fellowship together in the Spirit? Are your hearts tender and compassionate? Then make me truly happy by agreeing wholeheartedly with each other, loving one another, and working together with one mind and purpose. Don't be selfish; don't try to impress others. Be humble, thinking of others as better than yourselves. Don't look out only for your own interests, but take an interest in others, too. You must have the same attitude that Christ Jesus had.