tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13654950313324113162024-02-24T01:46:10.517-05:00A Moment CherishedI am my husband's Sweetheart, my childrens' Mommy, and daughter of the King. I spend my days loving and teaching my children. I love to create by decorating my home, cooking and baking, photographing the loves of my life, or finger painting a masterpiece with my children. I steal moments with books and Starbucks coffee. I'm knee deep in camping ministry with my husband. I am blessed. My blog is my way of cherishing the moments and remembering the blessings. Because my life is just a vapor.Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17435587559894367861noreply@blogger.comBlogger711125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1365495031332411316.post-21470558058557216002016-07-27T07:40:00.001-04:002016-07-27T07:40:11.500-04:00.Chasing Words.It's time for me to move on from here. This little space has fulfilled its job for its season, and it will now be silent. Please come find me still doing what I love - chasing words. I am right <a href="http://www.tiffanydarling.com/">here</a> now, and I would love to have you.Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17435587559894367861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1365495031332411316.post-26994203935783299012016-01-19T06:29:00.000-05:002016-01-19T06:29:17.828-05:00.I Didn't Know.<div class="MsoNormal">
I was never one to dream big dreams. Oh, I am a dreamer, but
the storyboard for my dreams were all sweet and safe. They really were such
good dreams about loving Jesus well by raising babies and loving my husband and
making a home and filling bellies and always writing in between. I was never
called brave. I was just normal, and I was really content and really happy
right in the middle of that normal life. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But adoption took me places that I never dreamed of going.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Five years ago we walked off of an airplane dazed and naïve
and stood in a country that was so far away and so different from the one that
we called home. We left two beautiful blonde babies with grandparents and
embarked on a journey that would change everything about our entire lives for
our entire lives. And as dramatic as that sounds, it is entirely true. It would
change us, our family, and the ripples would impact everyone who loved us.
Looking back I really did not know that this would be the case. I didn’t know
so much. I did not know that five years ago was the end of the life I once knew
and the beginning of the life I now live.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I didn’t know how hard this journey would be or the toll
that it would take. I thought I was getting off of that plane to meet my baby.
And I was doing that, but I didn’t know that my baby was coming to me with so
many special needs and diagnoses that five years ago I had never even heard of.
I didn’t know that we would also meet our older son, and that we would soon
disrupt the birth order of our family and jump headfirst into parenting an
older child, with no prior experience or foundation with this child. I didn’t
know that I was preparing to enter a few years of desert wandering as we
wrestled through things I never knew existed until I was strangled in it - things
like post adoption depression. I didn’t know the darkness and isolation that I
would feel in the midst of the joy of building this family. I didn’t know
trauma and heartache and sadness, or the way it can wrap around one’s heart and
whisper all of my parenting failures every time my eyes opened in the morning.
I didn’t know that love is not enough to fix all of those broken hurt places
and cover all of those stories that I not only wish I could unhear, but even
more so wish I could unwrite. I didn’t know that truly only Jesus is enough,
and that I would grasp and claw after Him like never before. I didn’t know
accusations would arise simply because we were giving this our all, and
sometimes that looks so, so different from normal.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I also didn’t know just how strong our marriage was and how
united we really were as a team. I didn’t know the intense love I would feel as
I looked across a room and saw my husband tangled in the arms of a sobbing
teenager, or cupping his chin while speaking truth against the lies he fights
against, or the way my heart would feel out of control as he cleaned up vomit
for the thousandth time, or fought on the phone with doctors and lawyers, and
stood in front of person after person demanding this child be made his son, and
that child receive the proper treatment, and all the while loving the other two
just as he did when there were only two. I didn’t know how brave my blonde
babies were or how enormous their hearts were until I saw them make room for
their brothers and embrace them with everything inside their little bodies. Or
how proud I would be when the tears and rages come, and they quietly move out
of the way and pray for Jesus to heal the hurt, and rub backs with their little
hands, and whisper wise words, and forgive and give grace and remind me of what
it means to love. I didn’t know how much they would understand this journey and
teach us along the way. I didn’t understand how courageous two boys were who
folded themselves into our family and learned what it meant to be a son. I
didn’t know how much I would enjoy a family spread out in ages, how much a
teenager can love the baby of the family, and how fun our lives have become
with littles and a big, and all of the good that comes with having both.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Five years ago, I embraced a thirteen month old baby, and
collided with a ten year old boy, and everything changed. I could not have
known what was to come, the depth of pain, the unspeakable joy, the stories we
would share, the places we would go, the tears we would sob, the laughs that we
would exchange, the millions of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I love
yous</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I am sorry; please forgive
me’s </i>that would need to be said and resaid, the thousands of photos to
prove to him that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">yes, we are family</i>
and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">no, we are not going anywhere without
you</i>, the memories that we have forged and fought for, the wounds HE would
heal, the lessons we had to learn, the hard we had to endure, and the life we
get to live.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I didn’t know that leaving behind normal would be this good.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Five years ago we flew across the ocean, landed in a strange
world, met two little boys and everything changed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Happy Meetcha Day Jameson Yonas Byron and Habtamu Theo
Byron. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFYnFqo-VY_UKJkf83lfQKonORueiauLKgF2PEqRsKZkl67o8X7GTAV6aE1NEbWpSDcWJdAP8JMc2QNBEo3WDxmbfzO7pZWSp4WWof_O7Hs26heyY1rJ4Gesds6vIGTtoOz0wfncGlDtA/s1600/IMG_5452.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFYnFqo-VY_UKJkf83lfQKonORueiauLKgF2PEqRsKZkl67o8X7GTAV6aE1NEbWpSDcWJdAP8JMc2QNBEo3WDxmbfzO7pZWSp4WWof_O7Hs26heyY1rJ4Gesds6vIGTtoOz0wfncGlDtA/s320/IMG_5452.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Now we know that you were exactly who we were waiting for.Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17435587559894367861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1365495031332411316.post-82139853420537911952016-01-09T04:18:00.000-05:002016-01-09T06:23:02.103-05:00.The Muslim Man with the Smile.<div class="MsoNormal">
It was months ago that I first noticed him, sitting in a
make-shift wheel chair on the corner, a blanket draped over the bottom half of
his tunic wearing body, and a small khoffia (Muslim hat) on his head. He is
elderly and frail, and it is obvious that he is crippled. When I first saw him,
I thought his legs had been amputated, but have since learned that they are
just withered and deformed. My home culture has taught me that a man of his
religion is to be feared, but every time I walk by this man, I don’t feel fear,
instead I feel curious joy. <o:p></o:p></div>
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It wasn’t the wheelchair, or his crippled legs that I first
noticed, and neither was it his religious attire, but rather the smile that lit
up his whole face day after day after day that he sits at the corner. He radiates
joy and peace. He is crippled and obviously poor, but he smiles with such
authenticity. There is something different about this old Muslim man. He is
opposite of and doesn’t match the rhetoric that I so often hear about people
who believe the way that he does. He is not the same as other beggars here either.
Most, sit outside, asking for money, or jiggling their cupped hand with a few
coins clanging together to solicit a few more from passerbys. But this man, he
just sits still in his wheelchair and smiles at the people who walk past him. I
don’t know if he receives much money. I have never seen anyone stop for him. <o:p></o:p></div>
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For months I passed him by too, but he would always catch my
eye and smile, and I could not help but return that smile. It was involuntary. Since
there are so few ferinji (white foreigners) in our community, I know that he
quickly began to recognize me on my daily walks. As I left my gate, I began to
look forward to walking by this man. There is so much need that surrounds me
everyday. It is suffocating at times. I always pray that God will not let me
grow hardened or used to the need here, and so far my bleeding heart has not
allowed that to happen. My eyes will still burn with tears as we drive and
encounter poverty around the city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Sometimes it is exhausting, and feels hopeless; but I would rather hurt
than not feel anything at all.<o:p></o:p></div>
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There are so many conversations about how to best help the
poor and needy. The conversations are so good and wise, and I never want to do
more harm than good. I know that can often times happen with soft hearts and
good intentions. There are so many great arguments as to why one should never
give money to a beggar. Sometimes I really do follow that practice, but
sometimes there is no doubt that the Spirit moves me to break those rules. It
is a fuzzy balance, and is one that I have written of before. My very own child
was once a beggar on the street, and although the few coins that he received
did not save his life or ultimately help him out of his situation, they did
preserve his life until God’s timing for change took place. I cannot forget
that, and it impacts how I daily live here. So, admittedly, I probably walk out a posture
that some would think was wrong.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As the months added up, and I continued to exchange smiles
with that old, kind Muslim man, I felt more and more convicted that I needed to
drop just a few coins into his hand. And one day I did. As I bent over his
chair, looked into his bright, brown eyes, and as our smiles matched, I gently
dropped a few coins into his warm hand. He grabbed my hand, and covered it with
both of his wrinkled with paper thin, chocolate skinned hands. His touch was so
grandfatherly, and his eyes held a story, a story of life lived and wisdom and
love, and I so badly wanted the Amharic to bend down next to him and hear his
story. Instead my eyes held his just for a moment, and the twinkle and joy in his eyes pierced my heart.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The very next day he was gone. He had disappeared from his corner spot. My heart flip-flopped. My
immediate thoughts were drawn to Hebrews 13:2 “Don’t forget to show hospitality
to strangers, for some who have done this have entertained angels without
realizing it!” Now my fundamental, black and white background would have
squirmed at this thought, but I have seen things here that cannot be put into
that box. I casually mentioned the verse to my husband and oldest son, and they
smiled at me sideways. Habi joked about a “Muslim angel”. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I even began imagining things, maybe God was
testing me, like in the parable of “the good Samaritan”, maybe He wanted to see
if I would stop and pay attention to this man who practices a religion that I
am supposed to fear. I was hoping maybe I passed the test. But day after day
there was no sign of my sweet Muslim old man. After awhile I began to worry
that something tragic had happened to him. Then just as quickly as he had
disappeared, he reappeared.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I once
again started stopping by his chair for a moment to drop a few coins into his
lap, and to see that smile up close. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I don’t have a pretty end to this story. I have not done the
“missionary thing” and shared Jesus with him. My Amharic is far from able to do
that, and translating on the side of the road is not really feasible. I don’t
know his story, but I want to. I want to know why this crippled Muslim man sits
in a wheelchair smiling that gigantic smile. I want to know where he
disappeared to, and whom he calls family. Where does he sleep at night? What
are his fears? What has he lived? I don’t know if I will ever find out, but I
am going to try. Right now that trying starts with exchanging smiles, gifting a
few coins, and whispering some Amharic greetings. Maybe I can convince my
husband to push him home for a meal.<o:p></o:p></div>
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By the way, yesterday he added some big, flashy sunglasses
to his ensemble, and I literally laughed out loud. I guess I am learning to look and find joy in the most unexpected places - like in the smile of a kind old, sunglass wearing, Muslim man.<o:p></o:p></div>
Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17435587559894367861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1365495031332411316.post-78203685050358464752016-01-08T09:23:00.000-05:002016-01-08T10:37:47.151-05:00.Stories.<div class="MsoNormal">
Stories are so precious. They connect us, they inspire us,
they embolden us, and warn us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is in
a story that we find solidarity and so often find ourselves nodding along
thinking, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">yes, me too</i>. Humanity is
found within the pages. There is a desire inside of us, no matter our
temperaments, to know and be known, and stories foster this. This is one of the
main reasons that I have been feeling the desire to come back to this little
space and share again. I miss what happens in the sharing. I need what happens
to me in the sharing. There is no better way to point to Jesus then for me to
bare my story.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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BUT.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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And that but makes me hesitant, and question and sometimes
it makes me stuck staring at a blank screen. Because the truth is, the story is
not always easy. It is not always easy to tell, and it is most definitely not
always easy to live. I want to write transparently, but I also really desire
for it to be tidy. Tidy, however, is seldom authentic. Because this one wild
life that makes up our one wild story is messy. Honestly, every great story has
a mess, but think about the greatest stories, that mess is sometimes what leads
to the most beautiful ending, those endings that take our breath away and make
us feel alive. The tension is what makes us keep reading. It is what keeps us
interested. I think maybe it is because the tension is something so many of us
can relate to. It might look differently for you, than it does for me, but
humans understand tension. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I really want a lovely story. I am a simple girl, and would
like a simple story, but God has some crazy ideas about my story. So, here I am
in Ethiopia, and the story is anything but simple, and many times far from
lovely, and honestly, a lot lonely. 2016 started ugly and pregnant with
tension. Hours into this clean slate, this beautiful brand new chapter and
fresh start, the enemy came back with his old tricks and snuck in with things
that we thought had already been dealt with and stamped out. I am learning that
parenting really “messies” the story. It also refines and chisels. I made some
very intentional parenting goals for this next year, and held onto that goal as
a bomb was dropped in front of us. But then six days in, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had already failed miserably, and the goal
was nowhere to be found. Oftentimes in these failures, I recognize how much I
am trying to do this alone, and am brought back to my knees again to face my
failure head on and acknowledge my need for Jesus. And so the story goes -
messy and full of chances to try again on the next page and in the next
chapter. I suppose that is a beautiful way to describe grace – all these second
chances to rewrite the narrative.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So, as we press into this new year, here is to our stories, our collective ones that collide
and intertwine, and our individual ones that illustrate our unique plot. May we
be brave in the telling, gentle in the living, and open to the hearing of the
stories around us. The gospel was based upon the greatest story ever told, and its
main character was the greatest storyteller who ever lived. May this example
guide us to be courageous with our own stories.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And that bruise under my eye? It has a story. A story involving a water balloon. Sometimes the story is different than it appears on the surface, or that we create in our mind. Might we also be gracious and tender as we wait and listen for the truth of the stories bravely shared with us, because not every story is as it may first seem.</div>
Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17435587559894367861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1365495031332411316.post-34493220020075628222015-12-29T04:04:00.000-05:002015-12-29T04:04:20.493-05:00.Close to Home.<div class="MsoNormal">
This is a two part series. Part 1 can be read <a href="http://mercybranch.com/close-to-home-part-1/">here</a>.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Perhaps it was a test, and if that indeed was the case, it
was a very dangerous, very frightening test. But it was almost as if she wanted
to see if we would pursue her, or if we would just let her go. In the days
following her announcement a million thoughts raced through my mind, some as
ridiculous as locking her here and refusing to allow her to leave. However, she
is nineteen, and that would never really work. I begged God to find a solution
and keep her from this evil. We prayed and cried as we tried to find sleep and
her impending departure loomed closer and closer.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">And one day we woke up, and it was the last day....</span><!--EndFragment--><br />
<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Today I am writing over at our Mercy Branch blog. You can read the rest <a href="http://mercybranch.com/close-to-home-part-2/">there</a>.</span>Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17435587559894367861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1365495031332411316.post-35385292539890619182015-12-28T07:56:00.001-05:002015-12-28T09:13:10.329-05:00.It's Time.We lived in a teeny apartment on the second floor. I had painted the miniature kitchen sunshine yellow. Her bedroom was soft green with cream pinstripes that my mom had surprised us with. I was a few weeks into this journey of motherhood. Everything had been planned, as it always was back then. We became parents when we decided to - not before, not after. We were blissfully naive and self-assured, and we were young, so young. A decade has risen and fallen since that moment in the teeny apartment, when my fingers first danced over a keyboard and created a space on the web for my words. It was at the dawning of social media; I had not yet succumbed to Facebook, but the blog world beckoned me. While everything had been carefully orchestrated, her birth was a startling jolt into reality, as nothing about it went according to plan. Almost losing my firstborn in her first moments on earth, lit something inside of me that may not have ever been otherwise ignited. Every breath, every cry every hiccup and milestone was a gift that, had those first moments gone slightly differently, I might never have known. I embraced motherhood with an intensity that I had never known. That made me not want to miss a thing and to take joy in the small things. Looking back, it really was a rather exquisite way to enter motherhood. So that first little blog was almost all about her, my Cadence. I weaved stories and photos together about those first years, and then we chose to birth another, and soon after, I needed to expand my blog to include him and our changing family. And I landed right here. Almost seven years have past right here.<br />
<br />
<i>But I am not the same person who launched a blog, with her infant daughter, in a bouncy seat at her feet, in that teeny apartment once upon a time.</i><br />
<br />
I have been thinking a lot about writing lately. I miss the way that I used to work through thoughts as my fingers flew over letters. I miss capturing moments, and finding the extraordinary right inside the ordinary. I want to get back to that, but I have been hesitant. In some ways I don't know how to start again. When I go through the catalogue of old blog posts here, I cringe. Some part of me wants to delete them all away and forget how self-righteous and bitter I became in my journey. There is an arrogance that I read into those words from my younger self, a surety; one that I no longer feel. There is passion and fire, and there is icy coldness. I voiced a tiny bit of this feeling to Jim today. I told him that I wanted to start all over again, in a new space, because the truth is, I was born to write, but this space doesn't seem to fit me anymore. He urged me to stay and to pick back up my writing. As I have thought about it, I realized that while I have gone through a metamorphosis of sorts, it's all a part of my story. Even those embarrassing posts, where my passion was most definitely misguided, has shaped the woman who sits on the other side of this screen today. I cannot delete my story. I can only do better when I know better.<br />
<br />
So much has changed inside of me. I have been bruised and battered. I am more courageous and more fearful. I am louder and quieter. I am determined and unsure. I am growing older, time is passing me by, my children are no longer babies. I have spent a year on the mission field in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, and stripped of all that was familiar, I understand who I am better than ever before. But I am also still discovering me, and who God desires me to be. I am not yet old, but I am no longer young. Friendships are more important to me than maybe ever before, but this year I experienced the ugly side of a fraudulent one that makes me cower from women and put up thick, heavy walls. I am guarded, and I am wary, and I need God to show me something different. It also made me seek out grace and forgiveness with an old friendship that I had single-handedly damaged in the past. But some things don't change - my desire to follow Jesus - even though that desire surely manifests itself in new, different ways, my love for my husband who gets me on a level that nobody else could, my absolute joy in being a mom and raising these children, and my penchant for writing, cooking, wearing gobs of mascara, and drinking coffee. All of those parts of me remain intact.<br />
<br />
So I am tentatively trying again. It's kind of scary to open up my life and heart once more in this space that holds so much, but there is just so much to share. There is still story to be told. Someone might connect with my story and find solidarity here in these words. So, I will write again, because the truth is that I love to write. There will always be better writers, but I am done struggling with that, because nobody else can tell my story. There is space for me, even if I am not the best. My grammar will drive grammarians crazy, because although I am a perfectionist, I am also a creative - especially when it comes to writing. I want to fall back in love with writing. I have never stopped writing, but the story has been muted here, it has stayed in my head or in my journals, but it never, ever stopped. I am proud of that, but now it is time....<br />
<br />
It's time to let the story back out.<br />
<br />
<i>There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you. </i>Maya Angelou<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmA5W3QmcF1hL7CQbWKdF-byPA9_CL98SMlm2c8GEVlR4St0wJbj4eL6p8zia0sK2km9GFL66485nOQZOVYn9rDuX9MzvXchqnzGlkclT9RzifHVDt4_YZHbCD6wdpXXmsnrC1-on1qbE/s1600/family5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="457" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmA5W3QmcF1hL7CQbWKdF-byPA9_CL98SMlm2c8GEVlR4St0wJbj4eL6p8zia0sK2km9GFL66485nOQZOVYn9rDuX9MzvXchqnzGlkclT9RzifHVDt4_YZHbCD6wdpXXmsnrC1-on1qbE/s640/family5.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
A few of my favorite characters in this story.</div>
Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17435587559894367861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1365495031332411316.post-86020408272247849872015-10-05T14:51:00.000-04:002017-04-01T09:12:52.453-04:00.The Tension.<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It’s been
nearly a year. Nearly a year since we landed in Addis and emptied suitcases and
threw ourselves into making this place our home. It has been nearly a year
since we have begun the laborious process of establishing an NGO here, so that
we can actually DO what we were called to do. It has been a year of God growing
us, changing us, and pursuing us in remarkable and extravagant ways. It has not
been a year without hardships and tears and questioning, but looking back it
has been one of the best years that we have ever experienced. We have seen
Jesus like never before. We have seen his transforming power, and we have
witnessed the Kingdom break into daily life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We came here
desperate to put off any arrogance that we had in preconceived ideas about this
culture and about the “right way to do things”. We prayed that God would humble
us and make us learners in this journey. He answered our prayers over and over.
We thought that the “right way” to do missions was to do business as missions.
It is such a beautiful idea, and one that we felt compelled to flesh out. It
also, honestly, sounds so much safer and comfortable to be able to support our
mission with a business and not have to rely on churches and individuals to
support us. We were eager and sold-out on this model, and prayed up, certain
that this is how God was leading us. Only to have God literally slam every
single door to every single business opportunity here in Addis in our faces. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Every time a
door slammed, we heard His gentle whisper, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">trust
Me.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It soon
became evident that our ministry plan for street children was wildly different
and wildly counter-culture, and radically going to take all of our efforts, all
of our energy and focus in order to be done in a way that will bring glory to
God. And the truth is, we came for the boys not a business. The business was an
aside – it was just supposed to support us, but God has very clearly let us
know that at this time, He wants us to trust Him for the support. So here we
sit, fully reliant on people across the globe from us. To be authentic, that is
scary, and it gets scarier as Jesus continues to whisper <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">follow Me, trust Me</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I felt
confident that In order to keep support and gain support, we need to tell
stories. We need to tell you about the lives that Jesus has touched this past
year. The sad stories, the sad photographs, they tug at people’s hearts, and
they share the real need that is here, and I really, really bought into the
necessity of them. But sometime this year in the midst of the stories and
photos, the pause button was jammed on, and I started seeing things differently
and questioning my motives with throwing up a photo on social media of a person
in a horribly sad, vulnerable position – perhaps even a person we were able to
help out of that position. Something wasn’t sitting right with me. My heart was
beginning to feel uneasy. It started to feel a little bit like exploitation,
and even objectification. But I knew that it worked. I knew that people across
the ocean would be more likely to make a financial donation if I shared the
photos of people suffering and their sad stories. If I shared about the man who
tried to hang himself and about literally cutting down the rope and tucking him
safely into family, about the teenage girl who came home so drunk every night
that she had to be nearly carried up the stairs and undressed and cleaned up
and placed into bed, about the hours upon hours spent in a hospital and then
the deafening screams that came with AIDS diagnosis, about the baby who died
from AIDS because we were just too late, and the father who refuses to have her
brother tested, because he just cannot bare to know. About the woman who mourns
for her murdered son. About the teenage boy who never knew his mother and
endures beatings from his grandmother and meals at our table because at least
then he gets fed. And even sharing this is making me want to delete the whole
post. Because these are REAL PEOPLE, and their story is not my story to tell. I
have no right.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And then in
the midst of this wrestling one day, our son came to us with trembling lips and
big eyes and said, “please do not post photos of street kids sleeping on the
streets. It is wrong.” We were taken aback. Street kids is who God has called
us to, telling their hard stories seemed like a great way to raise awareness
and honestly, money, in order to be able to serve <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">them</i>. But this son who came to us that day, so visibly distraught had
at one time, for several years, been one of those boys. He had had countless
foreigners come and take his photo, photos of him when he was most dejected,
most vulnerable, and still very, very much a child. He had been enrolled in
numerous NGOs and his photos were distributed and used and profited on. And he
never benefitted from it, and even years later it still hurts to have been
exploited at the most vulnerable and challenging time in his life. We listen to
this child when he speaks of this, because he knows. God has used his voice to
mold and shape many of our dreams for our future ministry with street children.
His voice is the same reason that we cannot do a drop-in center and feed street
kids only to turn them back out onto the streets, because this exact kind of
thing hurt our child more than it helped. It is why we have to pursue
family-based care starting with a small number. It is why we cannot do
behavioral modification but rather passionate pursuit of the heart of children.
Although, there are good ministries right here in Addis with very different
philosophies and practices that do great things, we have chosen to join in in a way that looks a bit different. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So, we are
trying to learn a new way. We are trying to be creative with how we share and
what we share. It is why so many of our posts lately just focus on our
day-to-day family life here in Ethiopia. It is so NOT because there is nothing
to share, or we have not seen Jesus in people’s lives, but rather because we
are still trying to figure this out. The use of photos and stories of
disadvantaged people and vulnerable children to illustrate what we are doing,
and what we need to raise money for risks exploiting humans - humans made in
the image of God. For right now, we have decided not to take that risk. This creates
quite a tension for us as missionaries. It is important that we share what
Jesus is doing. People are supporting us, and they need to know how their
support is impacting the Kingdom. But I think that people, whether in poverty,
whether vulnerable and in crisis or not, have a right to share or not share
their story. It is their choice. It is not mine. It is what we have always
clung to with our boys who came to us via adoption. Their story is their story
for when and if they are ever ready to share it with the world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This is an ongoing conversation. We continue to
press into Jesus and into the people He brings to us, and we continue this
dance of knowing when and how to share with you. I believe that the answer is
creating an avenue for <i>their own </i>voices
in their own time and of their own free will. How? I don’t know. What does it
look like? I have no idea. But there has to be a way, and I am desperate to
figure it out. We still have so far to go, and so much to learn, but until then
we press on keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus </span><!--EndFragment-->Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17435587559894367861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1365495031332411316.post-4393186997479466062015-07-27T07:25:00.002-04:002015-07-27T07:25:42.917-04:00.A Better Story.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">She bent down curling her small frame around the tiny frame of her daughter. I watched her breathe her in, finger her curls, caress her cheek, and inhale the peace, regarding her daughter's future, that the doctor had just gifted her. My own eyes grew wet and warm, as I watched her eyes spill rivers of salty tears. I recognized the universal language spoken the world over by mothers, as her hands gently moved over her daughter's body seeming to echo the cadence of words spilling from her lips and mingling with the tears dripping from her warm, brown eyes. There was a sacredness that clung to the moment, and I averted my eyes in an effort to not pierce that sacred with the intrusion of my presence. But in a breath she drew me in, and we were all wrapped up together, arms entwined, hearts beating fast, her mama eyes meeting mine, and despite the language barrier our eyes communicated a thousand words stolen directly from the dictionary of motherhood. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">In that very moment I knew that I had to do a better job of telling a better story. A story that included how so many mamas here love their children just like so many mamas there. This mama in front of me, beaming at her daughter, despite being born into poverty in this developing country, and despite neglect and abuse, and abandonment, stretched beyond her circumstances over and over and over again in order to be a good mother to her daughter. She knocked on gates for years to find employment. She offered her daughter the first and best food, even when she too needed the nourishment. When she was shoved out to the streets to make her bed, she wrapped her small body around her infant to protect her and keep her warm. Despite hardships that I cannot even fathom, she raised her daughter on her own for three years, and her daughter was happy, healthy, cherished, and oblivious to the fact that many on the other side of the world would pity her. Her laughter is sure, and she is confident in the simplicity of her life, and the love of her mother. As a mother, as a woman, as a human, when I think of her story, I feel inspired. I don't feel the fatigue that inevitably comes after a hard story. I feel inspired to know and love this woman, and I feel inspired in my own mothering because of her. I have never doubted her love and dedication for her daughter, and I could empathize with the depth of it when her doctor broke some hard, crushing news, and her body shook with sobs, not for herself, but for her child. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">In this journey, I have realized that in an effort to serve here I don't tell the better stories as much as I tell the sad ones. Looking around social media, I realize that I don't hear the better stories either. Better stories like this one, about the mothers here who do not let poverty steal away their child, who know and understand that regardless of the struggle, one of the very best gifts is the gift of being a mother.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">For a long time people have used the plot of Africa to tell a sad, heart-breaking story. Anyone who follows the social media sphere of influence of missionaries, non-profits, adoptive families etc. who serve in Africa has no doubt heard these stories. The heart behind the telling of these stories is more often than not genuine in their desire to raise awareness and support for a place and people they love. There is a time and place and a need for these stories to be tenderly told. But for every devastating story told and gut-wrenching photo shared, I want the world to know the whole truth, that there are also better, beautiful stories to be told. Yes, my friends there <i>are </i>sad stories unfolding in this continent. I have seen things that I will never share because of the horror of them. I have seen what I wish that I could unsee. There are nights when my stomach churns and my heart bleeds because of what lies outside of my gate. These are realities. They are not made up simply to garner compassion and pull on heart strings and purse strings. But if we take a step back, we quickly realize a truth, that there are sad stories to be told in every continent. That is the reality of living in a world that was never meant to hold the weight of sin, and yearns for perfection to return. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">But what I want you to know is that one, sad story cannot contain the narrative of an entire country, much less an entire continent. That's not fair. Just like one sad story cannot define your world. I have seen just as much good as I have seen bad. just as much beautiful as ugly, just as much wealth as poverty, just as much joy as sadness. The story is never just one note. There is always more depth, always more dimensions. It's the same kind of different here that it is there - a world of contrasts, of people with imperfections living inside a broken world. And with that comes stories some sad, some better, both needed. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Today I am giving my heart a break, and turning my focus to a better story. We don't know what tomorrow holds, but today I chose to pen the beautiful.</span></div>
Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17435587559894367861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1365495031332411316.post-88117897351923670402015-07-08T13:53:00.001-04:002015-07-08T13:53:52.692-04:00What is Love?<br />
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It's been so long since I have written that there are too many thoughts trying to squeeze their way out my fingertips. I fear these fingers cannot dance across the keyboard fast enough to keep time with heart words spilling over. This may not be eloquent as the words just gush out. At first I thought this post would be about grace. God is teaching me so much about what His grace really is, and it seems like the message has been bombarding me for months from all angles. I have had opportunities to see it played out and to put it into practice. I haven't been able to ignore it. I understand now how much I misunderstood His radical grace, but I am not sure if I am confident enough to share all of what I have learned yet. It's still so new, and to be very honest, it is still strange and hard to grasp. The denomination that I grew up in taught grace in words, but the actions of grace - the fleshing out - often fell short, which even now, as an adult, is confusing, but as a child, even more so. I think this is where my misunderstanding began, and I think this is why I am hesitant to share. So then my thoughts turned to love, perhaps because this week marked my thirteenth wedding anniversary, and love has been on my mind. Perhaps because it has been swirling around social media. Perhaps because my teenage son is growing older and daily closer to love and marriage, and I am desperate for him to grasp true love and experience it first here inside of our home, so that he is capable and ready to give it away when the time comes. Perhaps because a friend and I had a mild freak out yesterday realizing that we were raising somebody's husband. {deep breath} That's heavy. As I have walked through these past few days knowing that I would eventually find myself drawn here, locked inside of my room, in front of a laptop, that I had to carve out the time to come here and fill up this space with words, I realized that grace and love are so mingled. The truest version of them is married together. Real grace cannot exist without real love, and true love cannot exist without true grace. When we encounter authentic grace married to authentic love it is one of the most beautiful reflections of the heart of the Father and the gospel of Jesus that we get the privilege to discover here on earth.</div>
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There has been a lot of talk about love lately. There are some heated debates swirling around social media. In truth it is rather ugly to witness. It's polarizing. I have remained quiet, because there are humans involved, and i have yet to figure out how to add my voice in a way that does not heap on hurt to one side or the other. So many people on all sides are hurting, and it is so sad. Let's be honest, in the spewing of arguments on social media, especially when they are not cloaked in genuine relationships with one another, <i>nobody wins</i>. In arguing about love; it just looks like hate. In the midst of all of this tension, though, I have personally been reflecting on love - what does real love look like? For several months now, actually since the beginning of this year, I have been meditating on I Corinthians 13; the passage known as "the love passage" in Christian circles. This passage is slapped onto wedding programs and sweetly read over naive wedding couples in numerous churches. It was true for my own wedding. The verses are made out to be cute and pithy and easy as two young people gaze adoringly into each others eyes, dreaming of the life they are starting together. Hollywood has glamorized love in such a way that is is unrecognizable to the real thing, and so many of us have bought into it, and our children are growing up mesmerized by the allure of it. They think that the fake kind of love, the selfishness, the lust, the mushy gushy feel-goodness that masquerades and parades itself as love, that is displayed all over movies and TV and sung about on the radio is attainable and desirable and right. And they think if they don't find that then they are missing out on what everyone else has. As I am writing this post the lyrics of that cheesy eighties song is bouncing around my head, <i>What is love? Baby don't hurt me; don't hurt me, no more. </i>But the truth is that silly song, like so many of us, has missed the mark on real love. Real love <i>does</i> hurt. Love deliberately gets up, goes again toward that person it is aimed at, and it understands that in the process it is choosing to serve someone and put someone's needs ahead of its own in a way that is so vulnerable and so exposed that when you truly love someone, hurt is unavoidable and it will happen again and again and again. </div>
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Love actually does hurt.</div>
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Real love entwined with grace is wild and different. It's mature and wise. It's strange and unnatural. It fights against our flesh and our human bent. Just look carefully at I Corinthians 13. It doesn't look very much like the love in the movies. There is so much more to the depth of it. It is the heart beat of our life. It is all that matters. Without love, nothing we do or say even makes a difference - it's all empty. We are given two commands from Jesus to live out our days. The first is to love God with everything inside of us and all that we are, and the second is to love others as much as ourselves. (Matthew 22:37) He promised that if we could love Him and others that everything else would fall under that. Can you imagine what the tapestry of our world could look like if Jesus followers actually practiced these? Almost everyday I hear myself quoting these two commands to my children in hopes that they will comprehend and live out what so many of us have forgotten. But what does this love look like? If it is not the Hollywood love, what is it? The Message version says that we are bankrupt without love, and then in verses 4-7 clearly spells out what love is, what love <i>does. </i>And it is pretty radical.</div>
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<i>Love </i><b>never</b><i> gives up.</i></div>
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<i>Love cares for others </i><b>more </b><i>than for self.</i></div>
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<i>Love doesn't want what it doesn't have.</i></div>
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<i>Love doesn't strut; doesn't have a swelled head.</i></div>
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<i>[Love] doesn't </i><b>force</b><i> itself on others.</i></div>
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<i>[Love] isn't always "me first'.</i></div>
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<i>[Love] doesn't fly off the handle</i></div>
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<i>[Love] doesn't keep score of </i><b>the sins of others,</b></div>
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<i>[Love] doesn't revel when others grovel.</i></div>
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<i>[Love] takes pleasure in the flowering of </i><b>truth</b><i>.</i></div>
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<i>[Love] puts up with anything.</i></div>
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<i>[Love] trusts God </i><b>always</b><i>.</i></div>
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<i>[Love] </i><b>always</b><i> looks for the best.</i></div>
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<i>[Love] </i><b>never</b><i> looks back, but keeps going until the end.</i></div>
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<i>Love </i><b>never </b><i>dies.</i></div>
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I Corinthians 13:47 The Message (emphasis mine)</div>
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Love shows up and shows out. It is not dependent on the love of the other person. It is active and pursues, and fights again and again and again. Yes, there are all kinds of love, romantic love, friendship love, family love, etc., but all real, genuine love have these same above characteristics at its core. To never give up, to care more about another than oneself, to forget wrongs, to cling to truth, it's all hard, and it all hurts at times. But it is always worth it, and love like this - the real deal kind of love is enduring and the greatest gift we can give to another human. But if love hurts so much, and is so self-sacrificing, and demands so much of us, why would we want it? The truth is love chooses to hurt, because love chooses to love. It sounds cliche' to say love is a choice, but honestly it is. Love is a daily choice. Our perfect example of flawless, true love was Jesus, and He chose you. He chose me. He looked at us in all of our weakness and brokeness and mistakes - past, present and future, and with a love that cannot be comprehended, He tenderly cupped our chin with his scarred, nail-pierced hand, and said, "I want <i>you</i>". We did nothing to deserve His choosing, His love. We could do nothing. We were incapable. His love chased us down, pursued us, and His love sunk into our mirk and sat in the mud with us, embraced us right where we were and accepted us wholly, completely - as is. It's a wild, untamed, alluring kind of love that is not afraid of our filth, and in the filth is where its partner grace enters in, grace goes right into the mess, holding hands with love, and rescues us and carries us out, while we are helpless and unable to rescue ourselves. When Jesus, perfect Love incarnate, allowed Himself to be carried to that cross and murdered, He saw you and He saw me. He saw everything we would ever be and do, and He saw that we were incapable of anything on our own, and He lovingly came anyway to get us. He LOVED us. And now we are compelled to love, because He first loved us with an unfailing, never-giving up love. A love that is yours and mine despite us, a love that we could never sustain, and we don't have to! We cannot make God love us, He already does. I cannot earn His love, and I cannot do anything to deserve it, and wrapped up in that truth rushes in love's mate grace. Authentic grace is cloaked in love and it races in hot pursuit after us and meets us right, exactly where we are, looks us square in the eyes, sees our innermost ugly, and loves us into a beautiful invitation of abundant life. Because love compells it to, grace so gently and tenderly drags us out of the murk and into life.</div>
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I am speculating that the way we love others will look a lot more like I Corinthians 13, rather than the phony Hollywood love when we finally recognize the complete way that we are loved and accepted. The way we love must change when we truly understand the outrageousness of the love that was poured over us, while we were so unworthy, love that manifested itself in drops of Jesus' blood, and when we finally get that this perfect love has absolutely nothing to do with us, and the grace that is married to His love crashes over us and transforms and breaks in and heals and changes us. This marriage of love and grace that is ours is explosive, and it it permeates everything about us. Perhaps when we truly grasp how deeply we are loved, we will stop feeling so threatened by the world around us, and instead will see people as people just like us- some still sitting in that murk, not needing our rhetoric and lectures and debates, but needing us to pursue and flesh out the kind of love Jesus has for them. I Corinthians says without love we are nothing. So, perhaps, maybe when put our attention on loving God and loving humans, and just focus on that, maybe then Love really will win.</div>
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This knowledge of how much we are loved, changes how we love. Because HE first loved us.</div>
Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17435587559894367861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1365495031332411316.post-5403304797817602572015-05-15T13:00:00.001-04:002015-05-15T13:00:31.079-04:00.A Spoonful of Honesty.
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We are headed into our eighth month living here in Addis
Ababa, Ethiopia. We continue to love this city and the people, and to feel as
if we are exactly where God wants us to be. We have spent half a year <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>intentionally leaning into God and His purpose
for us here. Some original plans fell through, and God clearly has pointed us
in the direction of creating a brand new indigenous NGO for street children.
This is way bigger than what we had prepared for, but it is exactly how God
loves to display His perfect strength - in our broken weakness. As God’s
purpose and plans have been unfolded we continue to solidify our methodology
and philosophy for working with children, and at its simple core it comes down
to pursuit. For years we have seen how the Gospel, how Jesus, pursues. Jesus
doesn’t wait for us to be ready for change or to even have a desire for change.
He doesn’t wait until we have cleaned ourselves up, or have outwardly changed
our behaviors, so that we <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">look </i>as if
we measure up to His standards, because the truth is there is nothing inside of
us that can change or even be ready with a desire to change outside of the
working, initiation, and pursuit of Jesus Christ. If we are to be imitators of
Jesus, then we must pursue, and that pursuit must be relentless and not
dependent upon anything that the child/person does. Through much thinking and
praying a three part purpose for Mercy Branch Inc. emerged. A purpose that we
believe in and see beautifully exemplified in the Gospel. The three parts must
coexist but flow from the first one, and are as follows: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">relentless pursuit of the whole person, radical grace, and reverent
mercy</i>. That’s easy to write, and lovely to think about, and I really do
believe deep inside that it is the core of the Gospel. But let me tell you,
that there are far, far easier philosophies and methodologies out there than
this one, and the past few weeks as we cemented God’s plans and purposes and
committed to establishing an NGO that echoes the Gospel, the enemy has attacked
the very heart of what we want to do. It’s as if God is allowing us to be
tested in this very commitment right here in our own family.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Is this what you
really believe?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Are you really willing
to pursue like I have pursued you? Because it is hard, messy, and it hurts.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I am going to try to be transparent with you, and yet be
ambiguous enough to still protect the privacy of my family. Although we know
beyond a shadow of a doubt that we are exactly where we should be, these past
few weeks have been very, very hard for our family. Everything kind of
crescendoed today when my children found their puppy had died. It’s time for a
little honesty and to get our spiritual boxing gloves on, and to gather our
people around us in solidarity and prayer. I am sick and tired of the cowardly
way that Satan is attacking our family – by targeting our children. It started
way back in February, when it was brought to our attention that rumors were
flying, and apparently had been for years, about our family. Disgusting,
filthy, and grotesque accusations that “Christians” were giving ears to and
seemingly perpetuating. We were crushed. It seems so many times when we seek
out authentic community with believers, we are instead wounded and betrayed.
Sadly these rumors really involved our oldest child. Satan is very crafty, and
he knows our weaknesses and insecurities so intimately. He knew these horrible
speculations would plant a huge seed of doubt in our child’s, already
traumatized heart. He knew the way to do it was to attack family and have
adults question his very identity in our family. It literally makes me shake
with anger even as I type this. As parents we desire to protect and nurture the
hearts of our children and give them security as a member of our family. This
is an especially unique challenge when your child has spent years rejected,
abandoned, abused, and not part of any family. Unfortunately, Satan used these
lies to manipulate, not only the minds of people, but also our child. He used
other lies as well, but all of the lies built upon these rumors. These lies
culminated in us coming dangerously close to losing our son. I cannot and will
not go into specific details – none are needed. It was the most horrifying,
terrifying, and painful experience that we have ever had as parents (and we
have had our fair share prior to this). This is where the rubber met the road,
and we had to put all of our beliefs about the Gospel into practice – we had to
pursue and pursue and pursue. Behavior modification and trying to make a child
follow rules is so, so much easier than pursuing the heart and the entire child
with grace and mercy. Let me tell you that as a family, we all HURT, and
although it looks as if we are slowly limping to the other side, it still hurts,
and we are still pursuing – all four of our children through this ugly time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Satan absolutely hates families. We believe that it is
inside of a family that healing can take place, and Satan would much rather
traumatized children never heal. We believe that street children can best
experience true healing and freedom in Jesus inside of a family – a family that
pursues at all costs. Our son is NO longer a street child, and we have treated
him as nothing less than our beloved son (because that is WHO HE IS), but we
have had to and continue to have to pursue him in crazy, intense ways. Knowing
so much about us and about families, course Satan is magnificent at attacking
and destroying families. BUT HE CAN’T HAVE MINE. We are surrounding ourselves
with truth from God’s Word, with the knowledge that Jesus is pursuing each one
of us, praise and worship music and very, very tangible reminders that we are a
family – family that God miraculously established. We have a team of counselors
firmly surrounding us, and we have God for us. To be honest, we still desire to
find community here with other Kingdom builders, but sadly we will now proceed
more cautiously. God has given us just one precious family to steward, to
cherish, to protect, and to build up for His Kingdom. This is our primary role
here on earth, at this time, no matter where we live, or what else God has
called us to.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Yesterday, Jim got to explicitly share the
Gospel with someone whom we love like family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For almost eight months we have been praying and pursuing this person,
and we have gotten the privilege of watching Jesus pursue him. This morning we
hung up a gallery wall of family portraits to daily remind us that we are in
this together, and that we truly are FAMILY. At nearly the same time that we
experienced these glimpses of grace and mercy poured out over us, the
childrens’ beloved puppy unexpectedly died. They are grieving and hurting, as
she has played a vital role in comforting them here in a strange country so far
away from what they are familiar with. This is not just a coincidence. Satan is
alive and well, and he is not done with us. He sees something in us that
perhaps we cannot yet see. He is forecasting a future for our family here in
Ethiopia that terrifies him. I don’t know what he plans to do next or how he
will attack, but we are readying ourselves for this battle. Jim and I are
praying over our family, our marriage, and our future ministry with children
here in Addis, and we humbly ask you to do the same. We are so not special or
super-spiritual. We are messy. We are broken. We are normal – just a family who
desires to follow Jesus. We know that God wins in the end, but we desperately
desire to come to the end unified and together. Our family can’t be a casualty.
So I share this to ask you stand beside us in prayer. None of us were meant to
do this alone.</span></span>Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17435587559894367861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1365495031332411316.post-17205777296471247212015-01-17T06:28:00.000-05:002015-01-17T06:48:39.977-05:00.The Life I was Missing.<div class="MsoNormal">
Four years. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It has been four years since I first set foot in this
country. Four years ago today that I held my youngest child for the first time.
Four years ago Monday that my oldest son completely ripped my heart from my
chest, and a burning passion was lit inside of me for children who have had
their childhood stolen from them. Four years since I left my blonde little
babies an ocean away, and in turn radically changed the life they once knew.
Four years since this country captured my heart and beckoned me here.
Everything changed in those first moments. Little did I know that four years
ago 31 year old me was about to have her world completely turned upside down. I
didn’t know what I was getting into, and I am glad because I am mostly a
coward. God knew that, so He kept me in the dark until I was too far smitten to
do anything but follow the wild path He set my feet upon.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Looking back it all started rather simplistically. We wanted
another baby, but my pregnancies were rough, so that led to tender hearts
toward adoption. Ethiopia had what appeared to be a crisis at the time- a crisis of orphaned children needing
families. We were a family. We wanted another child. It made sense. So we said
yes to adoption and to Ethiopia, and then to our special, sweet Jamesy, and
then to Habtamu, and all the while our world tilted off axis and lines, that we
had once drawn, blurred. And in it all I held my breath waiting for everything
to right once again and return to normal. I waited for friends to return, for
the American Dream to take hold again, for our family to blend back in, for
life to return to the easy pleasantness that it once held, for Jesus to stop
asking us to do crazy, wild things. Our yes was over, and it was time to get
back to normal.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But normal never showed back up, and a new normal took its
place. Sometimes in my most honest moments I grieve the loss of that normal,
but mostly I embrace this adventure that my Jesus has so lovingly invited me into.
I feel as if I am one of the lucky ones, as I get to look back to a specific
moment in time, four years ago exactly, when everything changed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I now live this one, wild life back in the country where it
all began. There are late nights with no power and cold showers and spiders and
dust everywhere. And there is laughter and life and love. I cannot walk outside
the safety of our gate without being surrounded by children. Some of them are
teeny tiny and some are bigger than my own big boy. Some dirty and tattered –
so dirty that to touch them makes me stink with them. And some not as much. My
hands are always grabbed and smiles are abundant, as are hugs and kisses. My
hair is touched, my clothes yanked on, and always a silly grin is plastered
across my face in a contented happiness I have never before known. My heart is continually stretched, and I so
desire to pick up the life of Jesus here – to make every person that I
encounter feel as if they matter – because they do. I have been making this my
goal every time I walk out my gates. It is simple and yet I believe it is
exactly what Jesus did. I cannot help everyone who comes to me, there are just
too many. How can I pick and choose the countless street children that I
encounter? The magnitude of the needs just outside my door are surreal. The
number of starving children and half grown men addicted to chat and young mamas
begging on the corners overwhelms me. How do I choose who to help? Most days,
unless the Spirit clearly prompts me, I can’t choose. But I can look every
person in the eye and acknowledge them as another human being. I can love in
big ways just by giving a dirty street child a hug and a squeeze – just by
noticing them when everyone else hurries on by. I can imitate Jesus just by
seeing them. I am learning this and putting it into practice every day, and it
is changing everything. <i>It is changing me.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At home my lap is constantly full, sometimes with my blonde
babies, sometimes with brown-eyed babies, and even still sometimes with my
teenage boy who even after two years of security still questions whether this
mama can really love him. Our house is seldom quiet. Languages collide and
shouts and giggles echo off the walls. Currently I answer to “Mom” from seven
people, and my head swims to keep up with who needs what from me. And every day,
although most would see this as mundane, I fall more and more in love with this
life. For me this is what my heart has ached, longed and cried out for. Four
years ago, the moment my feet hit the dust here in Addis I knew something was
missing, but I couldn’t possibly understand what it was that was missing. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But now
I know. It was the African sunrises, and Habesha food, and cold showers, and grubby
hands reaching for me, and grown women, who missed out on childhood, calling me
mom, and a spunky little two year old who is too precocious for her own good. It
is watching my belly babies love in ways I did not know they were capable of,
and seeing my brown-eyed boys back in their home country and finally healing
from wounds that should have never been. It is catching my husband’s eye across
our crowded and crazy living room, as children twirl and dance, and adults
laugh and sip buna and nibble popcorn, and in that single glance a thousand
words pass between us, all resting on
the knowing that this is what we sacrificed for. It’s roosters crowing and dogs yapping and
the low growl of hyenas. It’s seeing Jesus in the dirty street children or the
young man who finally realizes that life is worth living. It’s opening my home
to strangers and witnessing the miracle of how quickly love crashes in making
us a weird, jumbled-up family. This was all missing in my former life, and
while nothing looks the same as it once did, I wouldn’t change this new normal
for all the white picket fenced houses in the world. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I know that I am here because God has put me here. In some
little way I know that He is using me to change the world. He is using me in
simple ways, and I want to give my life away right here. There is no place else
I’d rather be than right here. Four years ago I could never have known that this was the life I was missing. Now I know.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9eP2holH0zuHE7agy4k6Dusd089kim1orw0uaaQePPx8hwWlMulfvr1HCkzqLj0y58YQwi2maIqEHtuzdaq9WbXfH5fkSMGDxY8z4l-Z_woVrOSG_ID13vfDRZrwwJnosP_wPPvGICY8/s1600/copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9eP2holH0zuHE7agy4k6Dusd089kim1orw0uaaQePPx8hwWlMulfvr1HCkzqLj0y58YQwi2maIqEHtuzdaq9WbXfH5fkSMGDxY8z4l-Z_woVrOSG_ID13vfDRZrwwJnosP_wPPvGICY8/s1600/copy.jpg" height="512" width="640" /></a></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17435587559894367861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1365495031332411316.post-5235550541956313692014-12-31T05:54:00.001-05:002014-12-31T05:54:42.425-05:00.On Mission.We are ent<span style="font-family: Calibri;">ering our fourth month here in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. It is
nothing and everything that I imagined it to be. It’s hard to know what and how
to share life here. I want to be authentic and transparent, yet, at times
transparency looks dangerously similar to complaining. As a newbie missionary
being welcomed into this beautiful foreign country, I am sensitive about
complaining about a culture that I am still getting the hang of. In all honesty,
we have been welcomed and embraced here better than some foreigners are
welcomed into our home country of America. So, I want to be respectful, and
this silly, yet profound quote keeps swimming around in my head.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">When the bull is in a
strange country, it does not bellow.</i> -Old Zulu proverb<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">At the same time, our life is far from glamorous, and most
would be surprised to peek inside it and see how closely our mundane mimics
your mundane. We are just doing life, living incarnationally, looking for ways
to follow Jesus practically by loving and sharing the Good News with the people
He places in our path, but we happen to be doing it across the ocean from many
of you. And then there is also this silly myth that swirls around regarding
missionaries, especially missionaries who sugar-coat life on the field. The
myth that says missionaries are singled-out, special, elite, highly-talented,
spiritual giant, super Christians. Well, I am here to blow that myth out of the
water, because we are anything but that. Maybe there are missionaries who do
fit that description, but we are not them, and most that I have met are not
them. There is nothing super about us. We have fears and doubts and anxieties.
We argue and bicker and make mistakes and messes. Some days are complete washes
and we yell at our kids, worry too much, grumble and complain and wish for
different circumstances. We are so very normal (or as normal as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">we </i>can be). We are messy people who love
Jesus just like you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It is true that not every follower of Jesus is called to
move overseas to live, but don’t let Satan fool you into thinking it is only
the special ones that are called to be on mission. We are all given a mission
field. Having moved here has actually opened my eyes wider to the fact that we
had a mission field back home, the same as we have one here. God uses us all
exactly where He places us when He places us, and no follower is more special
because of what field God has placed him in. Each person is intimately equipped
for the very place and time God has placed her in. For some that will be Africa
or Asia, and for others it will be rural and suburban USA.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In just a few hours our calendars flip to a brand new year. It’s
a fresh start to embrace the mission field that we each have been called to.
Some are sent into the corporate business world, some into hospitals and
medical clinics, some to villages in Africa, some to rock babies and cook meals
and tend homes, some to churches and schools; no matter where you go this new
year, you go, not just because it is your job or the rhythm of your life, you
go because you are being <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sent</i> to
these very specific places by Jesus. You are being sent for this exact moment
in time, and you are irreplaceable. That changes everything doesn’t it? No
longer do we need to classify Christians into elitist groups, but rather we are
unified as we realize that truly we all have a hand in building the Kingdom
exactly where we are sent. The role of a missionary has been assigned to all of
us who follow Jesus. So, this year, let’s tear down the silly pedestals and let’s
throw ourselves into the field that we are sent to, supporting and encouraging
one another, and their unique fields, along the way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>This is the day the Lord has made for me:<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is the place the
Lord has put me in...<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These are the people
the Lord has given to me...<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let me rejoice and be
glad in them.<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17435587559894367861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1365495031332411316.post-26664117943444059442014-11-18T08:52:00.000-05:002014-11-18T08:52:10.929-05:00.Confessions of a Rookie Third World Missionary.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
My family and I have now lived in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia for
a little over a month. It has been everything and nothing like what we have
expected, but slowly, surely it is becoming home. Here are a few things that I
have experienced, learned, and observed along the way.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">The weather is absolutely perfect. I have always
been one to embrace season changes, and I become as excited as my children over
snow days. However, to have this consistent, warm weather every day, to see the
sun shining warmly in my bedroom window every morning at 6 AM is amazing. We
are experiencing Ethiopia’s summer – their dry season. There has not been a
hint of rain since we arrived. Of course I will miss the snow days and the
magic they bring to the holidays (Elvis Presley Christmas music playing in my
kitchen is helping some), but to be tanned and warm at the end of November is
pretty lovely.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Nothing is easy here. I prepared for this and
expected it, but honestly there is no real preparation for </span><i style="text-indent: -0.25in;">living</i><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> it. Every menial task takes at least three times as long.
Sometimes that is due to power outages or water outages, sometimes it is due to
lack of convenience products, appliances, and sometimes I just have no
explanation for why everything takes so long and is is so hard. It just is.
Traveling is hard. Shopping is hard. Cooking is hard. Cleaning is hard.
Communicating is hard. Life really is harder, BUT, even though we are probably
still in the honeymoon period, I dare say it really is sweeter. Accomplishing
any task is so fulfilling and rewarding. I fall into bed so happy when I know
that I have washed, dried, folded and put away a basket of laundry AND cooked a
good, safe meal for my family. I am sleeping better than I have in years,
because I am so exhausted. Life here is difficult. It is hard. It is rewarding.
It is worth it.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Now I say nothing is easy here, but to be
completely honest, I make things harder on myself (big, fat surprise to those
of you who know me – snark, snark). The majority of Americans that we know (missionaries
included) have hired domestic staff. There are so many reasons for this; one is
respect for the culture and to give back to the culture and economy by hiring Ethiopians.
Another reason is because, as I mentioned, everything takes three times as
long, and in order for most people to come and do what they are called to do or
hired to do, they have to have help with the day-to-day tasks, or else there is
just literally not enough hours in the day. But my first priority mission field
is my husband, my children, and my home, so right now that is where I pour all
of myself into. Because of this. we have not hired a full domestic staff,
however, we have hired a part time housekeeper that will help me with some of
the cleaning, and we plan to hire a nanny for Jamesy. Once I start
homeschooling again (we are still on our summer break) we may have to
reevaluate and hire additional staff – specifically a cook. This is hard for me
to let go of, though, and I am really praying through what God is asking of me
as we live here. And so, right now I do a lot of the stuff that staff would
typically do for foreigners living here.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">The city has really been built up since we were
here two years ago.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">There are stoplights
and traffic signs and things are becoming more modern. Police (or “traffic” as
most people here refer to them as) are everywhere. They seem to be quick to
{try to} pull people over, but I am learning that most people just duck their
head, avoid eye-contact and drive on! It is pretty wild to see. Driving in
general is wild and crazy. I am really proud of my husband for getting his
license and driving all over the city. I, on the other hand, have no plans
{ever} to get my license {shudder}.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Produce here is plentiful and cheap. We load up
on produce every week and really love the availability of so many fresh fruits
and veggies. Being from upstate NY, there are only a few months of the year
that we were able to have access to fresh produce. Most of the time, it was
shipped in from other climates and sub-par. Most of the produce (save
watermelons, but perhaps we got a bad one) taste better here, too. The oranges
are actually not orange, but greenish, yellow and they are so sweet and juicy! It
is time-consuming, but for our safety, all of our produce has to be very
carefully sanitized before consuming or really even handling too much. With the
amount of produce we purchase, this is an all-afternoon task for me, but once
done, we really enjoy grabbing fruits to snack on, and I love the abundance of
veggies to cook with.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Hyenas are very, very loud. I never knew the
noise that hyenas made, but every night around midnight they travel to our
neighborhood and howl and yelp for about an hour. It is quite an experience to
hear, and because we live in the mountains, the echoes are eerie. One of these nights,
we are going to take a spot light, go onto one of our balconies and try to
shine it on the pack of hyenas to see them.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Spiders are everywhere. Every. Where. Every
night I check my bed for them. They are huge and gross. I have bites all over
my body, and I am trying to just pretend they are normal mosquito bites. And I
found a HUGE mouse (maybe rat) on my stove burner. Enough said.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">My children are awesome. I already knew this,
but seeing the way they have acclimated to a new culture and to so much change
is amazing. They are resilient and strong and encourage me every single day.
They are doing so great and loving so big. I am so proud of all of them.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">We could not just land in Ethiopia and
immediately begin our mission work. This has probably been one of the toughest
things. However, the government is really cracking down, and we must follow all
of the laws, so that we do not ever have to fear being permanently banished
from this country. So we plug along, working towards our NGO status, then work
and residency permits. Thankfully, we found out today, we are here on the right
visas to do this and should not have to leave the country for two years as
originally planned. This whole process goes back to what I said about everything
takes T-I-M-E. But in the in-between God is already giving us opportunities to
build relationships and love big on people – we don’t need a work permit to do
that, and I believe that even during this space and time God has plans for our
family .So we forge ahead learning how to just live life here and sharing the
love and mercy of Jesus with whomever it is that God places in our path on a
given day. We are living life on mission, and I could not love that more –
every day is truly an adventure!</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">God is here in this city. He is working and
moving and His Kingdom is being built. He didn’t need us to move here to
accomplish His work, yet He invited us in. I am truly thankful and excited to
see what is ahead!</span></li>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhymd2b4yvpqK-3JHOsayafAvMyyb5MA080Zubwp1zowGePFtohp690zR_BPA0O9MJmW056E8J_irulytdpvXPJXomHsyK6Yedg45eryVfK9cVlsuazHHNnLhGp55SK6j19I7JJzggqRJI/s1600/5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhymd2b4yvpqK-3JHOsayafAvMyyb5MA080Zubwp1zowGePFtohp690zR_BPA0O9MJmW056E8J_irulytdpvXPJXomHsyK6Yedg45eryVfK9cVlsuazHHNnLhGp55SK6j19I7JJzggqRJI/s1600/5.jpg" height="424" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
Wifi is pretty sketchy,
but I am hoping to get this to publish. Thank you for your continued support,
prayer, and encouragement – we feel it!</div>
Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17435587559894367861noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1365495031332411316.post-41239493422124673972014-09-29T20:28:00.000-04:002014-09-29T21:20:08.833-04:00.God Writes THE BEST Stories.I wasn't going to write, because I have already been gushing all over facebook all day long. I am obnoxious like that. But I couldn't stay away from here either. The place where so much of this story has tumbled out of my heart. The space where I shared my hopes, dreams, and prayers with you all. I feel like shouting to the world this story, and what God did. This morning in a little courtroom in NY state, with some of the people who love us best, our family made history, and God did what we were told over and over and over could never happen. He did what we had been told for three years was impossible. He did what has never been done before in the United States. He pulled out all of the stops, and showed His power in a way that will leave me breathless for the rest of my life. Today Habi became our legal, official son through the miracle (and it truly was that) of adoption.<br />
<br />
There are so many details that we have hidden away to protect our Habi. While what we have shared of this story is miraculous enough, all of the other little details added in, the huge hurdles that God had to break down to get us to this point, the number of doors He had to crash open that had been tightly shut, it is all more than I can even comprehend. I know that for the past three years we have stood inside of a move of God, and it was HUGE, supernatural, and mind-boggling. As I sit here in the quiet, my mind flipping through all of the events that have taken place to get here, it doesn't seem real. Everything that had to happen was so perfectly timed out and orchestrated by a loving, creative, Author. There is no way that we could have scripted this. I told Jim that it feels as if we are in a movie. And it does, because this just does not happen in real life. BUT it did happen!<br />
<br />
The most powerful lesson that I have learned in all of this, and what I hope people see when they hear of this is that God writes the best stories. Shortly before we decided to adopt from Ethiopia, God began to work in our hearts and lives in a brand new way. A more real way, but a way in which I had to intentionally surrender the pen to Him, and allow Him to write my story. It wasn't easy for me to give up the sense of control that comforted me. None of it has been easy - not one paragraph, one page, one chapter. I haven't always done it right. I have faltered along the way, and I have questioned the story so many times. Sometimes I have not appreciated His plot line, and I have thought that I could have written it better. But God in His mercy allowed me just enough strength to not yank the pen back, and God kept scratching out this story over my life. While I do believe that if I had held on to the pen, my story would have been easier, I also know that it would not have been nearly as beautiful. I would have under-written my story. The beauty needed to be sharpened by the pain that can only come with surrender. He is strong in our weakness, and that is why I believe he chose my family for this story, because we are weak and ordinary.<br />
<br />
Today is a huge 'ta da' life-changing moment in our story. A chapter closed with a big reveal - a movie-style ending. But what you need to know is that there has been a lot of middle to this story, and that today is not the whole story. What I want you to know is that God wants to write your story, too. Perhaps you have not yet handed Him the pen, and I want to encourage you to give it a try. Or perhaps you have, but you are inside the middle, and it is hard and lonely and painful, and it feels like it must be the end. But friend, it's not the end. He <i>is</i> still writing your story. He hasn't left you and closed the manuscript. The pen is still hovered over you, and He is still writing. The hard times, the moments when God is silent, the painful pages that seem to suck the life from you, they all have a purpose in your story. Don't read my ending of this chapter of my story and be discouraged thinking that God only writes stories like this for <i>some </i>people. The story God has for you is unique and beautiful and YOURS. Sometimes God is just writing further into the story than you have read. Be patient, wait with hope and expectation, because God writes the best stories. Trust the Author of your story. What He is writing is better than you can ever imagine.<br />
<br />
Today this chapter in my story came to a beautiful close, but tomorrow a new chapter looms before me blank and white and ready for His pen. I am ready for the story to continue.<br />
<br />
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<br />
Here we are just after the judge declared the adoption to be final. This is our son Habtamu (his given name in Ethiopia which means "rich") Theo (which comes from the Greek word theophany which means "in the image of God" - my name Tiffany is also from this same Greek word) Byron (a family name that has been passed down through generations - all of our sons have this name).Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17435587559894367861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1365495031332411316.post-18858805629941816232014-09-28T20:10:00.001-04:002014-09-28T22:29:31.305-04:00.A Moment.I am sitting here pecking out letters that race across my screen, and I know I should be packing instead. Because in just 17 (almost 16 now) days our family boards a plane and embarks on a new journey in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia serving street children. I am giddy about that and about all that God is inviting us into, but this moment, right now, I am even more giddy about the absolute miracle that is about to unfold tomorrow.<br />
<br />
It was January 20, 2011, when I first laid eyes on him, and in the 1,335 days and 32,044 hours between that moment and tomorrow I have not stopped dreaming of and fighting for this very day. It was a<i> moment. </i>Just one minuscule, unnoticeable to passers-by, moment, and my life and its path were forever changed. I have said it all here a thousand times a thousand different ways, but the story doesn't get old. How could it? Out of the almost 8 billion people that live in this world, out of all the millions of street boys - a woman born into luxury and comfort and a boy born into squalor and pain, an ocean apart, collided in what could only have been a God-ordained moment. And it really was only that - a moment. A few words exchanged, a few tears, a beaded bracelet and some granola bars. But that was all it took for our hearts to become entwined.<br />
<br />
I have repeated it so many times, and it sounds crazy - even still - but I <i>knew </i>the moment our eyes held each others that God was up to something. I knew this child was destined to be my son, and I his mama. There were so many other boys that day. I had been tugged on, hugged, and begged from, but in that moment, I only had eyes for one. I knew he was mine when his grubby, little hand thrust the beaded bracelet through our van window, because my heart could not contain the moment. I could not fathom another breath without knowing that this child was safe and secure, wanted and loved. Every single day since then, I have expended myself to be sure that he knows this with every fiber of his being. In that van that day, a new part of me was born, a fighter, a part of me that I did not know I possessed. Even then courage took root, and I turned to our friend, Job, and asked what was the likely hood of me adopting a street boy - that boy. He smiled at me, amused at my ignorance and naivety, and said "Oh, Tiffany, that is impossible." And when I typically would have just backed-down, as was my nature, a fighter emerged. I nodded, and prayed, and dreamed big, and I ignored the impossible.<br />
<br />
I ignored the impossible because I have a God who specializes in the impossible. If ever I doubt this, all I have to do is look back over these past three years and remember the way that God has smashed through the impossibles and obliterated the no's. God taught me how to stand up and to fight for justice in this journey, but the truth is that He didn't need me to do anything. He could have done this without me. All of the glory is His. The only thing I did was step into His invitation, and even in that I am pretty certain He dragged me in.<br />
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The day I met Habi.</div>
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Tomorrow, a miracle happens. Tomorrow, what so many people told us was impossible happens. Tomorrow that moment - the one that took place on the dusty street of Addis, comes full-circle. Tomorrow, what we were told would never happen is happening, our family stands before a judge, and my sweet, precious boy, the one that is so connected to my heart in a way that could only be supernatural, becomes my legal SON. </div>
<br />
Our God still preforms miracles, He is the exact same God that made the sun stand still for Joshua, and He still moves mountains to do the impossible. Tomorrow He is moving that mountain for us. This has not been an easy journey, for anyone involved. It has not been without tears and fear and heart-ache, but every single step along the way has been worth it. I would do it all over again in a heart beat. <br />
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In just a moment that boy will become mine.<br />
<br />
[If you are new here, and don't know this story, click<a href="http://amomentcherished.blogspot.com/2012/07/from-beginning.html#.VCjD4fldV8E"> <span id="goog_326788472"></span>here</a><span id="goog_326788473"></span>.]Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17435587559894367861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1365495031332411316.post-16459886777335053772014-09-09T19:56:00.000-04:002014-09-09T19:56:27.399-04:00.So You're Moving to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia? {links to help with preparation}. Part 1We have been preparing for our move to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia for a year now. It's hard to believe that it has been a year already! When it comes to planning and making lists and charts and preparation, I am type A, all-the-way. (Strangely that does not carry over into all areas of my life.) Being such, as soon as I knew we were moving our family of six over to a third world country to live, I began scouring the internet for advice on moving and life in Ethiopia in order to start planning. I kept thinking that I wished I could find a place that had everything I was looking for compiled on one website or blog. Now, I know that not very many of my loyal readers are planning to move to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, but I am compiling this blog post for the random reader, who is moving there that might find me via google. Here are the very best of the best links to help you navigate and prepare for your move (this is part 1 of 2):<br />
<br />
<b>Go to guide for Everything:</b><br />
<br />
The absolutely BEST resource that I have found is this <a href="http://www.academia.edu/2446786/Welcome_to"><b>"Welcome to Addis Guide"</b></a> published by the International Community School's PTA in Addis. It is AMAZING!! If you don't feel like clicking on any other link, then this one would be pretty sufficient for your preparation. It is full of great recommendations, tips, immunizations needed before travel, and the reality of life in Addis, hospital and physician information, the best grocery stores, leisure activities, taxi services and tons of phone numbers for each etc. It is just massive (at over 100 pages) and so full of valuable information. This is from their table of contents: <i>general information, before you arrive, getting settled, getting around, health/medical concerns, medical practitioners/facilities, Addis with children, shopping in Addis, services in Addis, leisure in Addis, inconveniences, exploring Addis and beyond. </i>This is such a gold mine for me, that I have talked my husband into getting it printed and bound, so that we can have it at our fingertips in country!<br />
<br />
<b>Organization:</b><br />
<a href="http://marocmama.com/2013/06/5-tips-to-organize-for-an-international-move.html"><b>5 tips to organize for an international move</b></a><br />
<b><a href="http://www.expatinfodesk.com/expat-guide/organizing-your-departure/calendar-before-you-go/">Moving Checklist</a></b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Packing:</b><br />
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Health items to pack for Ethiopia<br />
<b><a href="http://wwwnc.cdc.gov/travel/destinations/ethiopia/traveler/packing-list">CDC's Healthy Travel Packing List</a></b><br />
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General Packing Lists<br />
<a href="http://www.peacecorpswiki.org/Packing_list_for_Ethiopia"><b>Peace Corps Packing List for Ethiopia</b></a><br />
<br />
A packing list and general information about moving your family to Addis. (I love this blog! I believe the woman's husband works in the US embassy. She has great tips and beautiful photos.)<br />
<b><a href="http://ouryuppielife.blogspot.com/p/visitingmoving-to-addis-ababa_12.html">Our Yuppie Life - Moving to Addis Ababa</a></b><br />
<br />
Practical tips for packing<br />
<b><a href="http://www.expats-moving-and-relocation-guide.com/packing-checklist.html/#sthash.yH4kMpQq.dpbs">Packing Tips for Moving Overseas</a> </b>(find this by scrolling down to the bottom of the post)<br />
<br />
Infographic for packing<br />
<a href="http://blog.travelnride.com/10-best-travel-infographics-that-you-must-read-before-you-plan-your-travel"><b>How to pack your luggage righ</b>t</a> (the second infographic on the site)<br />
<br />
How to fold shirts military style<br />
<b><a href="http://lifehacker.com/fold-shirts-military-style-for-efficient-packing-509441547">Efficient Packing</a></b><br />
<br />
<b>Preparing your family for the move:</b><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.alifeoverseas.com/8-ways-to-help-toddlers-and-young-children-cope-with-change-and-moving-overseas/">8 ways to help toddlers and young children cope with change and moving overseas</a></span></h1>
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<b><a href="http://www.expatica.com/be/family/kids/Preparing-your-kids-for-living-abroad_14329.html">Preparing kids for moving abroad</a></b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b><a href="http://www.alifeoverseas.com/3-ways-to-care-for-the-heart-of-your-missionary-kid/">3 ways to care for the heart of your missionary kid</a></b></div>
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<a href="http://www.alifeoverseas.com/3-ways-to-care-for-the-heart-of-your-third-culture-kid/"><b><br /></b></a></div>
<div>
<b><a href="http://www.alifeoverseas.com/3-ways-to-care-for-the-heart-of-your-third-culture-kid/">3 ways to care for the heart of your third culture kid</a></b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="http://www.alifeoverseas.com/moving-abroad-with-older-kids-wheres-the-road-map/"><b>Moving abroad with older kids</b></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b><a href="http://www.journey-mercies.com/blog/urney-mercies.com/2014/01/what-i-wish-i-knew-before-moving.html">What I wish I knew before moving overseas</a></b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b><a href="http://bringlove.in/top-ten-rules-for-helping-africa/">Top 10 rules for helping in Africa</a></b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="http://www.alifeoverseas.com/how-to-transition-to-the-foreign-field-and-not-croak-part-1/"><b>How to transition to the foreign field and not croak (part 1)</b></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="http://www.alifeoverseas.com/how-to-transition-to-the-foreign-field-and-not-croak-part-2/"><b>How to transition to the foreign field and not croak (part 2)</b></a></div>
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<br /></div>
Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17435587559894367861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1365495031332411316.post-35310169304727646642014-09-02T18:01:00.000-04:002014-09-02T18:01:26.283-04:00.The In-Between.I have seen the topic all over social media lately and in book stores. The topic about saying yes to God. It's beautiful what God is rising up inside of His Church, in this generation. The invitation to say yes to what He is doing in the world is exciting, and I believe that He has big plans for us - for this generation and the generations to follow us. The creativity and the uniqueness of His personal invitations are limitless, and it leaves me breathless. But lately every time I see another blog post, or facebook status, or cute instagram quote pop up that talks about saying yes to God, I cringe and my heart hurts, because I am inside of the yes, and it hasn't felt very cute being here. Saying yes to God cannot be reduced down to the next cute, fad thing. It just can't. Everyone that says yes to God knows this. There is a realness and rawness that comes with the yes that is both exhilarating and excruciating.<br />
<br />
I am beginning to discover that there is often a gaping hole between saying yes to God and the fulfillment of that yes. That gaping hole is dark and deep. Right now my family is inside of that gaping hole. We are in the in-between; no longer are we living off the high of the yes, and we have yet to see the yes fulfilled. We are just hanging precariously in the middle. I wish that I could say that since last summer, when we finally surrendered our yes to God to move to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia -when we stepped out in faith and accepted His invitation to partner with God by serving street kids - that our life has been rainbows and butterflies. But it has been anything but that. It has been hard, ugly grueling; we have fough tooth and nail to fulfill the yes. It has become a sloppy mess of intentional daily obedience. There is very little glamour inside of the gap where daily scratching out obedience becomes your battle cry. It's continuing to say yes, by putting one heavy, aching foot in front of the other and burrowing deeper into the gaping hole of the in-between.<br />
<br />
Being completely transparent with you, I have cried buckets of tears, eaten my way through too many chocolate bars, questioned our sanity, doubted our call, and been more fearful than brave in every single step of this process. The in-between is hard. Some moments when I look at what is before us, and what is left to be done in order to fulfill this yes, I am more scared than anything else. It is inside these shaky moments, where my heart is panicked and terrified, that my soul knows that this yes has been and always will be God-ordained. Because the Tiffany that I know so well, would never ever set out to do something so big on her own. We know that this is where God works and moves. Sometimes He asks us to do hard things, to claw for that daily obedience after the initial yes, with no reality of that yes manifesting itself.<br />
<br />
Sometimes He makes us wait inside the gap, and sometimes the wait is long.<br />
<br />
The scariest part of the journey comes after the yes. Sure the journey begins when one courageously surrenders that yes and takes the leap of faith. Absolutely that is hard and scary, but to be suspended in the gap after the yes is frightening. It's a painful place to be to be caught between your yes and the dream of that yes becoming a reality. It is in this chasm that the enemy slips in, and we must guard our hearts. But it is also inside this chasm of the unfulfilled yes, that I think God intentionally backs us into, in order that we might see that there is no way for our yes to be fulfilled except from Him. Our desperation is just a way to set the stage for God to finish what He started in miraculous ways that only He can.<br />
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That's where I am right now - where my family is - inside the chasm between the yes and the fulfillment of that yes -we are waiting - wandering aimlessly in the dessert desperate for that Promise Land. But while we wait, I have to believe that God is working behind the scenes - in our hearts and on the details of the yes. We are in some kind of supernatural holding pattern. Somedays I am okay with that, and I am intentional about enjoying the here and now and building the Kingdom from here. Other days I am discouraged and confused and fearful and doubtful, and both kinds of days are okay. God can handle my questions and concerns and loves me through them. I am learning that every yes, every dream, has difficulties, and during this time where we wait, God is preparing us. I now believe that a year ago, our hearts weren't ready for the unknown reality of what lies ahead in Africa. Today, a year later, I believe that although we are not there yet, we are much more prepared for our future life. It is in this delay that our faith has been tested and we have grown. We have had to learn how to better respond to pressure, to stress, the unexpected, and disappointments, and how to continue striving for that daily obedience to our Jesus. All things that we will need in order to survive in Ethiopia.Things that I now believe we had to go through this past year, here, before we move there.<br />
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We are not alone in this waiting period. There are so many examples of Biblical precedent to where we find ourselves.The Egyptians always come to mind. When we say yes to God, there is no easy guarantee, there is a promise that we will never be alone and that God's way will always be best, but most likely it will not be easy. Saying yes, puts the reigns firmly in God's hands. I've surrendered control and yielded to Him. My yes offers everything back to Him - even this moment right here between the yes and the fulfillment of that yes - the in-between - He has it all. He's here now, in the in-between, and wants to do more with this than I could ever imagine. I trust that - even when it is hard.<br />
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A recent family photo - thanks to my sweet friend, T!</div>
Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17435587559894367861noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1365495031332411316.post-69660982404007299712014-08-26T15:18:00.000-04:002014-08-26T15:31:19.224-04:00.Homeschool Fail.We just entered our eighth week of homeschooling. We started early this summer, in anticipation for our upcoming move to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. The kids and I did not want to jump into a new country, a new culture, and a new school year all at the same time. So we decided to school throughout the summer, and take our summer break when we move to Addis. The first five weeks went swimmingly. There were a few bumps to smooth out, we hired a nanny for Jamesy, and there were attitude adjustments to be made (the kids and mine), but overall we fell into a rhythm and it was working.<br />
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And then Habi had surgery - a complete ACL repair and in the midst of surgery the surgeon also found a meniscus tear and repaired that. We took two weeks off. It was a nice break for all of us. In the middle of the two weeks some friends offered us their home to rent, so that we could have some privacy and re-group as a family, so we moved {again}. We had our second week off here at the new place, and then we jumped back into school. This time we have no nanny for Jamesy. We also do not have access to a printer - for my lesson plans I use a free block lesson plan printable, and then print a daily checklist for each child. The printer is my life line. Without it things began to spiral down hill.<br />
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<i>Rapidly.</i><br />
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I am notoriously unorganized when it comes to physical things (like my closet or the pots and pans cupboards - pretty much if it goes behind closed doors it's almost guaranteed craziness, and I am okay with it if I do not have to see it), but I am obsessively organized on paper - with my calendar, schedules, lesson plans, day planner, etc. I am pretty careful with the homeschool books being organized as well - everything runs better this way. I am detail oriented and a planner when it comes to school. All of this may sound contradictory, and that is me in a nutshell - a juxtaposition.<br />
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Aaaah. Neat and tidy, and we all know what we are doing!<br />
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The kids just check off as they go, that way they know for sure, and I know for sure that everything that needed to get done was done. It's beautiful.<br />
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But we moved here with no printer, and I decided I was going to be care-free and go-with-the-flow - <i>tra-la-la</i> - everything was going to work itself out just great and homeschooling and all the things would be amazing! Becuase I am such an easy-breezy, fly-by-the seat-of-my-pants kind of mama. EXCEPT THE OPPOSITE. But for two weeks I gripped my mug of coffee and put on a happy face, I tried to be carefree and work through school with no. lesson. plans. and no. checklists. (I am jittery just typing that.) I went into these past three Mondays with a vague idea of what I needed to accomplish that given week and some random lists written on papers, but let me tell you I am freaking out without my PLANS!!<br />
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You would think that I would have put an end to this craziness the very first week of this nonsense, but no - I don't like to fail - like not at all. I am a weirdo perfectionist, that will dig my feet in and become psychotically stubborn about making something work if there is even the slightest inclination that it's not working. Make sense? No?! Welcome to my world. And we are now headed into week three with no lesson plans, no checklists (I do have notes scribbled on a paper, but it's not cutting it), and today, I will admit that I went all nutbar on my four darlings. Let me paint a picture of what we are dealing with after yet another school day where I was floundering completely lost without my plans ....better yet let me show you.<br />
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For some this chaos just leads to beautiful creativity. For me it leads to one crazy mommy. This was the result of homeschooling today with no lesson plans and no check lists. After about the gazillionth time that I had three different children asking me what was next, and Jamesy escaped out the house sans diaper, I totally and completely lost it. I may have yelled something really immature and ineffective, like <i>I can't do this, and I don't know what is next! And why do you all keep talking to me anyway?!</i> I may have ran out of the room, leaving four stunned children. I may have ran into my room, where I could privately sob into my cell phone to my unsuspecting husband about the tragedy of trying to do school with no plans and no printer.</div>
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Yeah, something kind of like that <i>might</i> have happened.</div>
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I came back, apologized, gave out hugs and kisses, wiped tears (mine) and plugged on, but alas, I can't go on (yes, my children come by their drama honestly). So, I am putting this out on the world wide web, for all of you that have this figured out way better and way faster than I do. I know in Africa I will most likely not have access to a printer every week. And yes, I do know that right now while here in the states, I could just go to a Staples and print out oodles of blank lesson plans and check lists; I have thought of that. But that requires time, a vehicle, a Staples, money, more organization on my part, and all the things that I just cannot do right now. So I am looking for a CHEAP, lesson plan book that I can buy - either one that I can purchase multiples of, so that I can have one for each child, or one that has enough blank plans for all of my kids. I like my kids to be able to see the work they have for the week, and to be able to work autonomously whenever possible. I do not like being asked what's next fifty trillion times a day. I just don't. It makes me die a little bit every time, and I become a really crappy mother. There are things we do together, absolutely, but there are things that they do on their own, and it works for us. <i>When</i> it works, that is. So, please, please please, for the love, send me your links of your best, cheapest lesson plan (block, please) books, and help a girl out.<br />
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Because I am not sure if my kids can handle mama going all nutbar on them again tomorrow. In the mean time I will be in the fetal position, rocking......errrr cleaning the above mess.<br />
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Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17435587559894367861noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1365495031332411316.post-34842717278662886172014-08-25T15:29:00.000-04:002014-08-25T15:30:20.597-04:00.Let's Revisit Orphan Care.This was published as two separate posts several months ago, but all of this continues to marinate in my heart today. This weekend we brought a boy into our home. He originally came from Ethiopia and was adopted by a family in America, for reasons that are not mine to share, the family decided the adoption was not working out, and he was sent to a residential facility for troubled children. He has been there for years now, and it is all he knows. His childhood was stolen from him due to poverty in Ethiopia, and it has been years since he has been inside of a family. As I cooked meals for him and loved on him the best that I knew how, my heart broke over the injustice of this all. So much of his story could have been different. So much of it <i>should</i> have been different. I am NOT attacking the family that adopted this child, because I know the trenches of adoption. I have been in the dark valley, and I know how hard it all truly is. There is no way that I can point a finger, when I have seen and experienced what I have, because there have been moments, except for the grace and mercy of God, that I may have been tempted to throw in the towel. However, with as much grace as I can muster and humility, as I am not involved in this situation, I can honestly say that international adoption was not the best choice for his boy, and it should not have happened. He should not be here in America - in an institution. There could have been another way.<br />
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We, as the Church, must keep dialoguing about this hard stuff. And again, I am NOT against international adoption, it has its place, but it is not the solution for the orphan crisis. It's just not.<br />
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Part One:<br />
Today marks three years since we brought Jamesy into our permanent care. Three years ago we landed once again on Ethiopian soil, and for the first time in months my heart slowed and beat out a new rhythm that felt like home. It was adoption that drew us to that country - that continent. God opened our eyes to orphan care, and we became obedient. But now after three years in, we realize that our eyes were just beginning to open back then. Our lives are always changing and growing - emerging as we learn and grow and do better when we finally know better. And we have learned a lot along the way. Where at one time, as we were learning and growing, you read this blog and you read passion and devotion for international adoption in my words. And some of you read dogma and pride and self-righteousness and forcefulness as well I am sure, and I apologize. Truly I am sorry. It is part of why this space has grown silent on these matters. I am a quiet girl who turns fiery when I am passionate about something. Writing is one of my only outlets and how I process what is in my head and my heart, and so this blog received the brunt of my growing pains.<br />
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Yes, I've been quiet for awhile now in my advocating for international adoption. I still love adoption. I still believe in it, value it, champion it, but I also have seen the other dark side of it, and now even question whether it is truly a top solution in orphan care. I still whole-heartedly believe that every Jesus follower is called to orphan care - nothing has changed that view. I still am very convicted by James <span style="font-family: inherit;">1:27 <span style="background-color: white;"><i>Pure and genuine religion in the sight of God the Father means caring for orphans and widows in their distress and refusing to let the world corrupt you. </i>I am an orphan advocate and a justice advocate, and I strongly believe that so was my Jesus.</span><i> </i>Something in my heart broke, though, when I began to understand that orphan care is way bigger and more complicated than I originally thought, and that to find the solution we really have to go so much deeper than international adoption - because the problem as a whole is just too big for that. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I am going to be very careful here in what I write, because I have two precious children from Ethiopia who I am responsible to protect. However, after living with Jamesy for three years and with Habi for almost two, I can honestly say that in a perfect world, the world in which God originally intended us to live in, adoption was never His plan for these children. <b>Adoption was never God's original plan. </b>Adoption springs from great, horrifying tragedy that should never be.<b> </b>The suffering and overwhelming devastation that flows from all that these two children have lost was not part of God's original plan. I now firmly believe in my heart that God's <i>original</i> plan was for Jamesy and Habi to grow up in a loving, nurturing home with their birth parents - not with us. It is only because we live in a broken, messed up world that they are now in our family, and don't get me wrong, God can and does redeem the mess. But the mess leaves deep scars, and we experience that reality every single day in the brokenness, trauma, guilt, shame, and grief that accompanies our two boys.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Bringing these boys to America and into our family didn't automatically heal them or {flinch} fix them. It doesn't tackle the core. My heart is broken and bruised realizing the tragedy that is the fact that my sons cannot grow up inside their birth families. <b>As much as it hurts to write this, because of how </b></span><b>fiercely</b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b> I love my boys and now see them as my 100% sons, if I could give them anything in this world, I would give them their birth families - whole, healthy, and thriving.</b> But I can't give them that. So, we all do the best that we can with the grace of God pouring down over us. It was not God's first choice for these boys to grow up in our family. Please read carefully, this does not negate the beauty that has occurred inside our family because of adoption, the way the gospel has taken on life to us, or the amazing way in which God redeems, restores, and renews our boys. It doesn't take away from the amazing work that God did inside of my husband and I <i>because</i> of adoption. </span><b style="font-family: inherit;">But knowing what we now know, without going into personal details, we have come to the conclusion that orphan care <i>has </i>to be less about international adoption - it should never start there - it should never be the first plan of action in tackling this need.</b><br />
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So God has been opening our eyes to<b> family preservation</b>. This is huge and hard and not as romantic or as flashy looking as adoption. I now think that when it comes to orphan care, and when we feel the call (as I believe all Jesus followers will), this should be our first priority - keeping families together, discipling them, nurturing them, sharing Jesus and the gospel with them, extending mercy wherever and whenever needed, helping them sustain a living and giving them the life-skills to pass on a hope and a future to the generations behind them. <b>I believe that our number one priority in orphan care should be keeping families together - not advocating for international adoption. I have heard it said before, and now I get it and believe it, international adoption is just a bandaid slapped over a bleeding, oozing, gaping wound. </b><br />
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<i>We've got to do better.</i> This is too big, too deep, too mammoth of a problem for a quick patch-job, and we've got to get to the core of the tragedy that ultimately places children in situations where they are orphaned, abandoned, living in institutions and waiting for international adoption. The core begins with family - birth families. So, let us start delving into orphan care right there - we <i>have</i> to.<br />
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Let me stop here and shout that I do not think that international adoptions should end, and I do not believe that they are wrong. So i<span style="font-family: inherit;">f you are reading this post and are inside an international adoption, please, please hear my heart - I am not anti-international adoption. Remember that I call two Ethiopian boys my sons. Don't hear me say anything like that. I just firmly believe that it is not and cannot be the the answer to orphan care - it is one small teeny-tiny bandaid fix - a necessary one at times, yes, but we must, must, must look beyond that and move deeper inside the root of the problem to find a real solution. Adoption is a teeny part of the solution, but it should not be the main or only focus. The core tragedy will never see justice, healing, or a sustainable solution if we only focus on that one </span>minuscule<span style="font-family: inherit;"> piece. <b>Yes, we need Jesus followers to respond to the tragedy that has forced children into the need for international adoption - absolutely these children </b></span><b><i style="font-family: inherit;">need</i><span style="font-family: inherit;"> to grow up in loving families, BUT at the exact same time we need to be tackling the core and fighting for family </span>preservation<span style="font-family: inherit;">.</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This is where God has opened our eyes and is drawing our hearts with <a href="http://mercybranch.com/">Mercy Branch Inc</a>. We know better now than we did four years ago, so we are begging God to help us to do better. We are obeying God's call to extend the mercy of Jesus to street kids - kids that are not viable for international adoption but still very much fall under the umbrella of orphan care. And we are learning more and more about the importance of working toward birth family reunification with these kids - because many of them do still have families. Yes. they have been abandoned by their families for so many devastating reasons (reasons that I whole-heartedly believe have solutions and can be stopped as the Church would step up and out), and most live as orphans. But stop for a moment and think what God could do if someone would step in and disciple these children and their families into beautiful, redemptive reunification. What would happen if someone even stepped into a family's life and helped prevent that family from feeling as if their only choice was to abandon their child to the street? How might a generation in Ethiopia be changed by this? And for those kids who have no remaining family or where reunification is impossible and international adoption is just not viable, what then? What if godly, whole Ethiopian families stepped in and brought these children in as their own sons or daughters in domestic adoption? What if these children, who undergo the tragedy of losing their birth family, could still remain inside their continent, country, city, culture? Would the trauma scars not run quite so deep if they were not removed from every single thing that they know?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We don't have all of the answers. We do not want to pretend to be an authority on this. We are just beginning this journey of asking God how He wants us to attack the core. We are just beginning to see how much bigger the solution is than international adoption. We will probably make mistakes along the way, but we have to try to tackle this from the inside out. We need to be part of the fore-runners in fighting the core tragedy that causes the need for international adoption. We hope that our ministry with Mercy Branch Inc. will be a small part in that. We are determined to pour our lives into helping birth families stay together and giving them tools to raise their children well, and when that doesn't work fostering domestic adoption, so these children can stay where they are. Ethiopia needs them - its future depends on a generation of godly men and women that are also involved in tackling the core tragedy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We realize, even this, is a drop in the bucket, and we are praying to keep our hearts open and sensitive to the Spirit's leading. But this is the direction our hearts are beating. Here is a small taste of that heart beat.</span><br />
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Part Two:</div>
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I have received several messages regarding yesterdays post, which I was prepared to receive. I responded to each, but I think there were enough questions to warrant a small follow up post for those of you who have the same questions.<br />
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I tried to tackle this subject delicately, because it is polarizing. I do not want this space to be a place for conflict, inflammatory statements or judgment, however, I do want it to be a safe place to dialogue with the ability to be open and transparent. I may have been too delicate in my approach yesterday, and it appears that it left some people questioning whether or not I am even for international adoption at all any more.<br />
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For the record -<i> I am</i>.<br />
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Yesterday, I wrote about tackling the core tragedy in orphan care by focusing on family preservation. This is so important. But please hear me say this - there really are children who need familes to step up and adopt because it is too late for family preservation for them - for whatever reason. The answer is not for these children to grow up and languish in an institution, and that is where adopting families step into the orphan care paradigm. What I was trying to explain yesterday, though, is that international adoption is not enough to solve the orphan crisis. It is too big for that. <b>The orphan crisis is just going to perpetuate for generations, unless people simultaneously adopt the children who are already past the point of family preservation, while at the same time tackle the core tragedy of why children are being orphaned in the first place</b>.<br />
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I think orphan care is as much about orphan prevention as anything else, and that all goes back to family preservation, as I talked about yesterday. When we step up and take care of families, we are taking care of these at-risk children, who without intervention, could potentially end up orphaned in the future. I am very passionate about this need of tackling the core tragedy - not just the ramifications of the core tragedy.<br />
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Not too long ago, I believed that international adoption was possibly <i>the best</i> solution for the orphan crisis, but now I understand that is most likely not true. I understand it because I have lived it with my two Ethiopian sons. I have held their grief racked bodies as they sobbed and raged. I have listened to heart breaking questions with no answers. I have witnessed the depth of the loss that they have encountered, and I see the way it impacts so much of their lives. It is a deep pain that I have never witnessed or experienced before this. International adoption is a good solution for a lot of children who no longer have the option of family preservation. However, there is so, so much loss that occurs for these children when they are stripped of everything that they have ever known - including country and culture. It is much more complicated and muddied then I first naively thought when we began the adoption process four years ago. I still think it is viable and necessary for some children, but now I see just how much of a loss there really is for them. So, I yearn for more children to be able to stay inside their birth country, through domestic adoption, in order to ease the loss for them a little more. I am also adamantly not saying that the loss is too devastating for internationally adopted children that God cannot redeem it. He can and does. I have also witnessed huge healing and redemption in my boys.<br />
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You see, all of this is complicated. We live in a complicated and broken world. Nothing is as it was intended, so we will continue to flounder and fight for solutions only to find better solutions that we first missed. I don't think the messiness of this should scare us away, though. There is a time and a place for us in building His Kingdom, and it is now. Our generation is needed and has been specially hand picked by God to be right here, right now for a great purpose. So let us have open, honest dialogue about this. Let us be united for these children - for these families. I honestly believe there is a beautiful hope for the future of orphan care, and I want to be part of it.<br />
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What do you think?Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17435587559894367861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1365495031332411316.post-64347463595545502202014-08-19T15:43:00.000-04:002014-08-19T15:43:12.840-04:00.The Importance of a Calling.I am not a theologian, so I won't pretend to be one. I am simply a Jesus follower, who has the same Holy Spirit living inside of me that a theologian has. That's my only qualification for writing this post; that and my own life experience. As we get closer and closer to our move to Ethiopia, I have been reflecting a lot on our calling. When I say calling, just so that we are all on the same page, as the term tends to be interchangeable and muddy, I am referring to <i>God's intimate, individual invitation to a person, to partner with God in His Kingdom work here on earth, by carrying out a specific task. </i>I don't want to spiritualize the definition or get too churchy, so let's agree on this definition for the sake of this post.<br />
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I have shared so many times here about how God drew our family into this specific calling, so I don't want to rehash too many of the details. However, it never gets old for me to look back and see how God has slowly, graciously, and beautifully been whispering His invitation to me as far back as I can remember. When, as a little girl, I sat in AWANA mesmerized by those missionary stories read to me, He was whispering. When a little later I felt my heart race as I listened to missionaries who shared their experiences. Or how on every single spiritual gift assessment test that I have taken in my lifetime, my gift always comes up as "mercy", and how I was born loving the broken, underdogs, and rejected people in this world. More whispers. So many whispers, from being drawn to Africa in college and considering teaching in the Ivory Coast, to finally landing on Ethiopian soil for the first time and feeling a peace in my soul that I had never, ever felt before. In realizing when being in Ethiopia those first ten days, that although I was experiencing the worst pain that I had ever imagined, as my eyes were opened to incredible needs and I entered people's stories, that I was also the most content that I had ever been in my life. And the whisperings continued. There were moments, when I knew that I knew that God was moving us to Ethiopia, and I would have an amazing peace, only to have it quickly snatched away by fear and doubt. This happened over and over for three years after landing in Ethiopia. For three years we found very good, logical reasons to say "no" to God's calling - his invitation to join the work He was doing in Ethiopia with street kids.<br />
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Even when we witnessed the miracle of redemption in our home with our son, who was a former street child, and understood that we had discovered a great purpose in discipling him and sharing the love and mercy of Jesus, and what it means to live in a family with him, and how God had uniquely skilled us for that task - even when we let ourselves think about how we might use those very same skills for other children in Ethiopia we said "no". Even though, this very "work" of joining God in the transformation of a street child felt so good and right (even in the hard moments), and without a doubt I now know, this is what we were <i>meant</i> to do; we still said "no". Even though we felt the most purpose in abundant family life, and discipling others to find that same joy was the beat of our heart; we still said "no". I am so thankful for a God Who is so patient with us, and just waited and continued to quietly invite us to say "yes", and I am thankful for the people in our lives who saw the invitation long before we did and upon hearing the news exclaimed, "what took you so long?" Such sweet confirmation. God's calling started years ago, it wasn't something that we suddenly woke up and discovered, it was just something that we finally had eyes to see and recognize.<br />
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Some may wonder why a call is so important in the first place. Why does it matter if you know you are called, as long as it is something you have the desire to do? And although desire does have a place in the call, desire will not be what sustains us. It is with certainty that I can write that there will be hard, excruciatingly painful, taxing days, weeks, months to come for our family in Addis Ababa. God doesn't invite people to comfortable; He invites them to share in His suffering. There is nothing easy or comfortable about moving a family to a third world country, and this is not me being a martyr or looking for a pat on the back - this is just plain reality. We are walking in, having counted the cost, with the full understanding that what we were invited into will be hard. However, I have great hope, that on those discouraging days, when we are homesick, when we make mistakes, when we lose a supporter, when nothing is going the way we planned, the certainty of this call on our life will sustain us, and the very One Who called us will walk the hard with us.<br />
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Adversity is sure to come, because the adversary does not like Kingdom work. The adversary is a pro at planting seeds of doubt, but remaining confident in the truth that we have been invited into this work will keep us grounded. I love that a call always invites us into what God is already doing. His Kingdom advancement is not dependent on us, yet He invites us and carves out a place where the talents He has gifted us with can be used. One thing that God keeps bringing to mind, through various resources, is that there are people that have gone before us in Addis and will come after us, we have no superman complex, we are simply linking arms with what God is already doing. It is an exciting thing to know that we are being invited into this!<br />
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I am really thankful for the peace and confidence that this calling brings to my life. To learn more, click <a href="http://mercybranch.com/">here</a>. The creativity and intimacy that He pours into His calls are inspiring. I love hearing the many, many different ways that He is using all of us to advance His Kingdom. Please feel free to share your calling in the comments below. It's part of your story, and part of the Great story He is weaving together. I can't wait to hear yours.<br />
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<br />Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17435587559894367861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1365495031332411316.post-7958254990032798652014-07-29T15:41:00.000-04:002014-07-29T16:25:09.316-04:00.Waving my White Flag on the Mommy War.Before becoming a mommy, I dreamed about what it would be like. I envisioned how I would protect my children and their hearts, and I anticipated having to fight for my children at times. But what I didn't anticipate was who it was that I would often fight against.<br />
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Other mommies.<br />
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Yup, that's right, I excitedly became a member of the Mommy Club and then soon fell into the <i>Mommy Wa</i>r.<br />
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I am ashamed to admit how much I have participated in this. I would love to say that it was naivety in being a new mom that drove me to engage, but truth be told, I just wanted to do this mommy thing <i>right</i>. And when so much is at stake - the very life and development of another human being - we get pretty defensive about what we have decided is right. The defensiveness quickly escalates to criticisms and judgments and then all out war - just to protect that rightness - and to make sure that we<i> feel good </i>about our choices and look good, too. It's a really ugly manifestation of insecurity in our own decisions. I am kind of exhausted of it, though.<br />
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<i>Just shy of ten years of being inside this Mommy Club, I have finally come to the place where I understand that what is right for one family, for one child, is not universally right for every family, for every child. It's just not. There's no cookie-cutter method of parenting. </i><br />
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I am overwhelmed over the lack of grace we women - mommies - give each other. It's yucky. It's like a grown-up version of junior high, and that gives me the shivers. There is not a topic that is safe, everything is subject to <i>he</i>r disapproval.<br />
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To breastfeed or bottle feed<br />
To use breast milk or formula<br />
To work or stay home<br />
To eat natural or not<br />
To cloth diaper or disposable diaper<br />
To home school, private school, or public school<br />
To do Santa Claus, Halloween, the Easter bunny or not<br />
To allow screen time or not and how much<br />
To be a helicopter parent or raise free-range children<br />
To spank or not to spank....<br />
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The list could go on for days. The battles are endless. The lines are constantly drawn, and engagement in the war is seen everywhere - on TV, on social media, at the park, at church - everywhere - no place is safe.<br />
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Why do we feel so entitled to challenge other mommies on the choices her family has made? I dare say that this superiority (for deep down when we look at the ugly underbelly of the war - superiority is at the root - superiority entwined with insecurity) is destroying the beautiful village feel that somewhere inside the heart of all moms, we need and crave. How can we be a village with other women, when we are constantly defending our choices, and in the defending, criticizing hers? To me, having a village of lifetime friendships with other women, regardless of our parenting styles and choices, sounds so much better then feeling <i>right</i> about my choices, and therefore living in isolation, because our parenting choices will never ever perfectly match <i>her</i> parenting choices.<br />
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In the past, I have waxed eloquently (errr maybe just waxed) about some of my own decisions in parenting. I specifically remember the topic of home schooling, and how strongly I once felt about that topic. Don't get me wrong, I do love home schooling, and after taking a year off, have once again chosen that as the method of education for my children. But it is not the best choice for every family. It's really, really not. It was not <i>our</i> best choice this past year. So, we didn't do it. We took a much needed break. We chose private school, and we chose it simply because that is<i> </i>where our oldest son had to attend on his student visa, and in an effort to streamline our chaotic life a bit, we sent our oldest daughter to the same private school. But I don't need to defend that choice. It was the best decision for our family for that time. And if public school had been the best decision, we would not have hesitated to choose that. In that moment, of that decision, I found peace, clarity, and grace. I stopped worrying if, because <i>she</i> was still home schooling her children, and I wasn't, she was a better mommy than<i> </i>I was - I stopped wondering if she was enough while I never would be. Because there is really no such thing. None of us are enough, and that's why we need to show our children that Jesus <i>is</i> enough. Honestly, that will probably look quite different for all of us.<br />
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So, I am waving my white flag in this Mommy War. <i>Instead of comparing myself to how she mommies, I will, with God's direction, do what is right - right now - for my family. I will choose to stop defending my choices and criticizing hers.</i> The criticism is just insecurity anyway, and my security doesn't need to come from another mom's approval of how I parent. I want to instead be a beautiful member of that Mommy Club, and notice our unique differences, strengths, goals, dreams, passions, etc. I want to take the time to notice the truth that most mommies are doing what is best for their family right now. It's true, all of us moms have short-comings. We will all make mistakes in this journey of parenting, there is no such thing as a perfect mommy, but most likely, we don't need our mistakes pointed out. We will get there and grow in our parenting. And in between all of the gaps and mess-ups, Jesus fills them in, and He can use us to help fill them in, too, when we wave our white flag and offer grace to one another.<br />
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I think that we can really play a part in trying to end these silly Mommy Wars, and link arms and spread grace inside of the Mommy Club. Let's be a different generation. Let's not divide ourselves - the world does a good enough job at that already. Let's be a safe, beautiful place for each of us to be the mommy God created us to be. I don't want to be offended by her, or judge her, or size myself up by her. I just want to be part of a sisterhood that encourages and champions her wherever she is in her journey. We are in this together - we all answer to the same name, <i>Mommy. </i>We are all<i> her.</i>Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17435587559894367861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1365495031332411316.post-59134878995416473942014-07-27T18:32:00.001-04:002014-07-27T18:43:14.546-04:00.Homestretch.First we targeted January, and then June to move our family to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. But God still had things for us to learn in the here and now. He was still preparing our family - tweaking us here and there - and growing us as we realize<i> this </i>too is part of the journey. We continue to push and pray and trust His timing, although it's not always comfortable or easy, and some days we just plain don't like the timeline we are on, and honestly feel as if, at times, we are being yanked around. But in the still quiet moments, when we take the time to really search our hearts, we know that He is here and has allowed us to remain still for a reason and a season - for a purpose. We trust that. And in this moment, we have been present for so much, for our baby girl to attend her first (and perhaps last) ever year in a traditional school, for our oldest son to get to experience another year of soccer here in America and recent surgery to repair a torn ACL and meniscus, for the death and funeral of my grandma, the birth of our niece, the moment we got the call that my sister had suffered several strokes and God had spared her life, for Jamesy to grow and thrive and develop his communication skills in huge ways, for Scotty to participate in soccer for the first time, for moments spent with extended family that otherwise could not have happened, and for all of the in between moments that we will tuck into our hearts and carry across the ocean - moments that will sustain us on those days when we are so homesick and question what we have done - for those are sure to come.<br />
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It's been a little over a year now since we said "yes, we will move to Africa, yes, we will sell our belongings, yes, we will leave behind our family and the life we have built here, and yes, we will devote our lives to sharing the mercy of Jesus with children living on the streets of Addis Ababa, Ethiopia."<br />
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<i>Sell everything and go.</i><br />
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It sounds so easy and simple, but the actual reality of it is long and arduous and sometimes hard. We are living this right now, and it takes a toll in huge ways. But in it all we continue to see God's hand, His confirmation, and amazing ways in which He is moving in order for us to be able to move.<br />
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In the midst of the questions and conversations, we see Him.<br />
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We have counted the cost so many times - the physical, relational, and mental costs. We have prayed over the safety of our children and we have mourned all that we leave behind and all that we will miss.<br />
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the births<br />
the deaths<br />
the birthdays<br />
the holidays<br />
the phone calls<br />
the drop-ins<br />
the luxuries<br />
the conveniences<br />
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And everything in between.<br />
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It's a complicated season - a complicated dance - a choice to continue to say yes, to continue to obey and put one step in front of the other, even when those steps seem to still be so far behind the finish line of actually moving. We are fleshing out this call of obedience to the children of Addis - even here in the wait and the pursuit. We are in the reality of the flippantly used phrase "sell everything and go". A phrase that has taken us a year to live out and begin to understand.<br />
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And in the hard, there have been tears, frustrations, mourning, questions, restlessness, and uncertainty, but there has also been determination, grace, mercy, peace, laughter, hope, expectation and no turning back.<br />
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We're in the homestretch now. We're not the same people that we were a year ago when we set out on this adventure, and a year from now, I hope the same will be true. This all has been part of the beautiful story the Author is writing over our family. His pen is poised over the next chapter, and we are ready for Him to scratch out this next part.<br />
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With pounding hearts, a little fear, a lot of hope, and open hands, we are nearing ready.<br />
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[To learn more about how we hope to partner with God in building His Kingdom in Addis Ababa, please visit our site <a href="http://mercybranch.com/">here</a>.]<br />
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<br />Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17435587559894367861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1365495031332411316.post-92190790586045754702014-05-19T10:08:00.001-04:002014-05-19T10:27:03.350-04:00.Connecting the Dots.Our church is working through a series on justice, and what God has to say about it, and what that means for us as followers of Jesus. Our hearts became open, as a family, to the Spirit's leading and conviction in this area a few years back, but this is the first time that we have been given the privilege of sitting under leadership and wrestling with this subject inside of a faith community. And it's pretty wild. There are well over 2,000 verses in the Bible that touch on justice. In Hebrew the word justice and righteousness are translations of the same word. Somehow many of us have missed that! Justice and righteousness mean "to make right", and we have all been invited to partner with God in this. So many followers of Jesus squirm at the idea of "social justice" , and it has become a controversial issue inside of Christianity - another issue in which we can separate over and judge one another. I am afraid that we have forgotten or ignored that the gospel of Jesus addresses the whole man - not just the spiritual man. Look at the life and posture of Jesus, He was constantly addressing the needs of the whole person - yes, the heart - the spiritual, but think of how many times he also addressed the physical needs as well. Jesus fed the hungry, He healed the sick, He stood up for the rights of women, He defended the oppressed, He loved the outcasts and the sinners. He engaged the whole person and their needs time after time - the heart, soul, mind, and body. We are supposed to imitate Jesus. That is what we have been called to do. So we are wrestling through this as a faith community, and I am so thankful to be doing so.<br />
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Last night our church hosted an opportunity for us to watch the movie Nefarious: Merchant of Souls<br />
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This was a documentary that exposed the very real truth about sex trafficking. While slavery is something that Jim and I have had our eyes opened to in the past few years, and have changed some of our purchasing and spending habits, so as not to add to the slavery pandemic, this movie still took my breath away. I don't think I can ever "get used to" this kind of injustice. I pray that I can't.<br />
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But it also connected dots.<br />
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I was watching the movie last night with tears streaming down my cheeks, thinking that we had to do something and feeling that familiar guilt begin to creep into my heart - because I am such a bleeding heart and cannot ignore this stuff. It changes me and moves me to action, which can be so good, but can also be so exhausting. So, as I was sitting there, with mascara smeared under my eyes, and feeling a bit panicky wondering how we could tackle this issue of sex trafficking, as well as what God has called us to with street boys in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, God sweetly and gently breathed grace over me and connected the dots.<br />
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Justice issues are all intertwined. I think I understood that better than ever before after last night. Jim and I, and our non-profit, <a href="http://mercybranch.com/">Mercy Branch Inc.</a>, have some big dreams for Ethiopia, and for the street kids there. The dreams are expansive and God-sized, and we are placing all of our confidence in God and partnering with Him in these dreams. Yes, we have been called to street boys - our hearts are for these specific children. We are em-burdened with a passion to see them grow into godly men and leaders and fathers and change their country - bringing justice to it - setting things right. But last night, I realized how our calling to these boys is part of a much bigger, broader story that God is writing - because again - justice issues are all intertwined. Many boys end up on the streets of Addis because they were stolen from the countryside and forced into labor. After years of abuse and labor, many of these boys, eventually find themselves abandoned to the streets. Other boys are forced onto the street for other reasons - sometimes by their families who are trapped in desperate poverty. The family forces the boy onto the street to work and bring back income to the family. Some boys are prostituted (most girls are). Sexual abuse and exploitation of these boys is a growing problem in Addis Ababa, because of their living situation. Street children are the primary victims of sexual assault in Addis Ababa. The magnitude and gravity of sexual assault on boys is increasing in the city at a frightening rate.<br />
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Part of Mercy Branch's dreams are to find at-risk families - families that are very close to pushing their children onto the street - and empower them to be able to sustainably meet their needs, disciple them into a relationship with Jesus, and foster a whole, healthy family relationship. This is street child prevention, and it is vital. Another aspect is discipling street children back into their families, and when that is not possible discipling them into domestic adoption. Our hopes and dreams is that families can be preserved and that men can be discipled into godly leaders, husbands, and daddies who fight for justice - who understand the value of family and seek for wholeness in family. If more godly men stood up for this in Ethiopia, than the number of children in that country that are sex trafficked would drastically decrease, because the number of street children would drastically decrease. A country of godly men, who seek justice, love mercy and walk humbly with God could radically change a culture. But is starts small -with one generation - with a few families and a few boys. So, that is where we begin, knowing that God is the One Who connects the dots and fills in the gaps - He is the One setting things right, and we are humbled and so thankful to be invited to partner with Him in this.<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">The Spirit of the Lord</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="crossreference" style="background-color: white; font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-25073C" title="See cross-reference C">C</a>)"></span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">is upon me,</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Luke-4-18" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><span class="woj">because he has anointed me</span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Luke-4-18" style="font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span class="woj">to <span class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-25073D" title="See cross-reference D">D</a>)"></span>proclaim good news to the poor.</span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span class="text Luke-4-18" style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives</span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Luke-4-18" style="font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span class="woj">and <span class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-25073F" title="See cross-reference F">F</a>)"></span>recovering of sight to the blind,</span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Luke-4-18" style="font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><span class="woj"><span class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-25073G" title="See cross-reference G">G</a>)"></span>to set at liberty those who are oppressed,</span></span></div>
</span></i><span class="text Luke-4-19" id="en-ESV-25074" style="background-color: white; position: relative;"><span class="woj"><span class="versenum" style="display: block; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; left: -4.8em; position: absolute; vertical-align: top;">19 </span><span class="crossreference" style="vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-25074H" title="See cross-reference H">H</a>)"><div style="font-size: 0.65em; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;"><i>to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;">Luke 4:18-19</span></div>
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To learn more about partnering with Mercy Branch Inc. in bringing justice to Ethiopia, please visit our website <a href="http://mercybranch.com/">here.</a></div>
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</span></span></span></span>Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17435587559894367861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1365495031332411316.post-39381316291167606022014-05-07T10:26:00.000-04:002014-05-07T10:44:27.689-04:00.Your Questions Answered Part 3.I am continuing on with my little series in answering our most frequently asked questions about moving overseas to Ethiopia. I first answered these two questions: 1. Aren't you scared for your childrens' safety by moving them to a third world country? 2. Your decision to move seems sudden. Why are you moving so quickly? To read these first set of questions and answers go<a href="http://www.amomentcherished.blogspot.com/2014/04/your-questions-answered-part-1.html#.U2ouP_ldV8F"> <b>here</b></a>. You will find the second post <b><a href="http://www.amomentcherished.blogspot.com/2014/04/your-questions-answered-part-2.html#.U2ouGvldV8E">here</a>, </b>where I answered the question, why are you serving independently from an agency?<br />
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<b>4. Why did you choose not to go to missionary school or obtain a masters in missions?</b><br />
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Jim and I both attended four years of Bible college, including some "missions classes" sprinkled into those four years. I graduated with my bachelors of science in elementary education and bachelors of science in biblical studies. Jim graduated with his bachelors of science in philosophy (he also took every preaching class/pastoral class offered and many hours of counseling classes, but loved all of the language classes - Greek and Hebrew - with the Philosophy major, so stuck with that major). Jim graduated with highest honor and was at the top of his class, and I graduated with honors. Academics were very important to us - too important. We cared mostly about classroom discussion, reading textbooks, debating theology and our orthodoxy; it was years before we realized that orthopraxy mattered, too, and in that <i>people</i> matter. Our first ministry as husband and wife was camp ministry. Jim became the program director, and I was by his side for six years. It was in this ministry that God got us out of the books and into people's lives. It was there that we fell in love with discipling people, and saw how discipleship can change lives. We were hooked. While in the camp ministry, I also taught in a Christian school, and we worked as youth leaders. Kids and teenagers had become a really big part of our life, and as soon as we started a family with our beautiful Cadence Grace, we also became really, really burdened for families. After six years of camp, Jim became an associate pastor, and God continued to break our hearts for people, for families, and eventually for the outcasts and marginalized. The summer after we brought Jamesy home, we knew that God was calling us into missions. We just were not sure of His timing and logistics. We prayed and discussed sending, at least, Jim back to school. We even went as far as visiting Southern Theological Seminary in Kentucky, and researched their missions program. But school just did not feel right. God never gave us a peace about it, and we loved what we saw and knew of the school! But to get back into the academic world after God had so graciously and lovingly pulled us out was not the right move for us, and we knew that deep in our hearts. So, we continued to take advantage of ministry opportunities and invested time into learning about the world around us, and continually found ourselves pushed toward discipleship and counseling of families and teens. In the process, we continued to travel to Ethiopia, and even were privileged with leading a team there. God was slowly and beautifully melding our love for people, discipleship, families, and Africa together.<br />
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Jim and I have gained more hands on experience for our future ministry in these past few years than we would have been able to obtain in school. We are daily living out this discipleship and watching redemption unfold, with our oldest son, who we brought into our home from the streets of Addis. Everyday we are getting hands on training in what it means to love and disciple a child in this way with his background and history. Having been invested in Ethiopia for four years now, we have learned so much about the country, the culture, the people, the religions, etc. We have learned a lot from experiencing it on our trips to Ethiopia, but we have also learned so much by living with Habi and investing in his life. I am a researcher by nature, and I am constantly reading and trying to learn everything I can about Africa, Ethiopia, living in third world countries, discipleship, etc. Right now I have three books sitting in front of me about Africa, from the library, and that is pretty typical. We have invested ourselves in the food, and I have learned to cook all of Habi's favorites. We have incorporated the traditions and holidays into our family, as well as the music. We have dear friends who are Habesha. We believe that the language piece will come with time. Because English is prevalent in the capital city, we will be able to get by until we have gotten a hang of Amharic. We believe that immersion will most likely be the best way for our family to learn, and we have a wonderful built in tutor/translator in our Habi! We feel strongly that we have learned far more about Ethiopia, ourselves and our passions and strengths and weaknesses by living out our life, than we ever could have learned in a classroom setting.<br />
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And while we call ourselves missionaries, we really only do that because people can understand and identify with that label. But let me be truthful here - all followers of Jesus are missionaries. We are not doing anything unique in that. We are ALL called to spread the good news, to advance the Kingdom, to disciple, and we have been doing that here as a married couple for the past almost twelve years. We still plan on doing all of that, we are just going to do it across the ocean with a specific group of people - street boys and their families. A lot of families move overseas to do life, and a lot of families don't go to school to do that. Sometimes the very best training you can get is real life. We have been training in that for a long time, and we are really looking forward to the mentor-ship that we will be receiving once in Ethiopia from Trent and Carmen. We will not be alone, and we will be mentored every step of the way. I cannot think of a better "education" - to learn and grow AS we build the Kingdom.<br />
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Really we are not just flippantly going to Ethiopia with no training. We have been training all of our lives for this moment. It is really about preparation more than formal training for us. God has been preparing us for this for so many years. We really aren't missionaries - we are just a family who is trying our best to love God with all of our heart, soul, strength and mind and love people, too. We want to follow Jesus, and it just so happens that we are following him to Ethiopia. Following Jesus and loving people big can happen anywhere. We aren't defined by being missionaries, or ministering overseas, or being in "full-time ministry". Will we do it all right? No. Will we make mistakes? Yes. But we are going in with eyes wide open, hearts prepared and ready and willing to learn all that we can. No, we will not be training in a classroom, but we will be training while we live life - for us, for now, this is better than a classroom.<br />
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Please feel free to ask your own questions in comments below or email me at amomentcherished(at)gmail(dot)com<br />
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<br />Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17435587559894367861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1365495031332411316.post-46315824200184740552014-05-05T09:59:00.001-04:002014-05-05T10:03:25.378-04:00.For Her on Mother's Day.He is hers, <i>and</i> he is mine. He is ours. Her incredible loss was my incredible gift. And while I cannot imagine my world without him, poverty robbed her of life with him. There is not a single day that goes by that I do not realize this. It is a gut check every single morning. It makes for very complicated feelings in my heart. What if the roles were reversed? What if it was I who was there, struggling with starvation and preventable diseases, struggling with poverty and injustice squelching out my dreams? What if she was the one gifted with raising my children?<br />
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She is my link to his past, and we are eternally entwined. She is the only one who knows the way those first bumps, kicks, and wriggles felt inside of her swollen belly. And I am the one who knows the tears he cries for her, and how her pain is reflected in his heart. She knows the anguish of laboring him to life; while I know the anguish of laboring him here. She has all of his yesterdays, the ones I will never, ever know. I have all of his tomorrows, the ones she will never, ever know. She knows the dreams and prayers she breathed over his newborn face. She knows his first cry and first gasp for breath, and I wonder even in those first moments, if she knew that their time together was fleeting - flowing through her fingertips like fine grains of sand. I wonder if she breathed in his curls a little longer. I wonder if her tears came hot and fast as she wondered where the food would come from, and how she could feed herself in order to feed her son. I wonder if she was scared. I<i> know</i> her heart was breaking. I wonder if she held him tight to her chest and pleaded for his life.<br />
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With Jamesy's first steps my heart soared and then peaked at the knowing that <i>she</i> was missing it. I squealed for both of us.<br />
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When Habi scored that first soccer goal for his school team, my eyes burned with tears. She wasn't here to shake that cowbell and make a wild scene for our boy. So I did for both of us.<br />
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When the doctor told us Jamesy could see, rivers of scorching tears trickled the curves of my cheeks, and I begged God to let her know that our boy with the shaky gorgeous eyes could SEE.<br />
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When Habi's blood tests all came out clear and negative, I wanted to dance with joy for her, knowing that she knew more than anyone in the world what a miracle that was.<br />
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With every new word that Jamesy gains, and every time his deep brown eyes find mine and he says <i>Mama</i>, my heart skips a beat, and I cherish it for both of us.<br />
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With every <i>I love you, Mommy</i>, I reassure Habi of my love <i>and</i> her love. Two women fiercely in love with the same boy.<br />
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Every time I tuck them in at night, stroke their curls, kiss their lids, I linger longer for her. Every milestone, accomplishment, late night talk, hug, kiss, kitchen dance, giggle is all soaked up for both of us. She is a part of them and a part of me. Two different Ethiopian women and then American me. Two brave, courageous women that poverty has stolen what was most precious to them. And while adoption is the most beautiful experience I have ever been inside of, it is also the most horrific and ugly as it is mottled with so much pain, so much loss, so much injustice. This is not how it should be. Poverty should not rob a child of its mother and a mother of its child, and while by the time I entered the picture for my boys it was too late, and the only thing left to do was what we did, <b>for many children and mothers living in poverty, it is not too late</b>. It is not too late to give these mommies the chance to experience first steps, first giggles, first day of school, bedtime kisses and prayers. It is not too late to allow a child to grow up in his or her beautiful culture and be adored by birth family and surrounded with love. As a mother to two birth children and two children born only in my heart, this is something I am passionate about. While adoption is viable and necessary in cases like my sons', the best and most ideal situation is to keep children with their birth families when possible- despite poverty. Poverty is not a reason to separate families.<br />
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This Mother's Day, rather than giving that special mother in your life flowers or jewelry, why not give her the gift of supporting mothers and children surrounded by poverty, so that they can stay and flourish together? Jesus can offer these moms hope that life can be different. I want to be part of this difference.<br />
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This is why we are so passionate about keeping families together in Ethiopia. There are some fantastic organizations that are keeping families together, and we have the hope, dream, and prayer that Mercy Branch Inc., while partnering with God and His Kingdom, will be equally fantastic at putting broken families back together. In the simplest terms, this is why <a href="http://mercybranch.com/">Mercy Branch Inc. </a>exists. We think that family is so important that we are devoting our lives to this.<br />
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My heart is for these mothers - these brave, beautiful, courageous mothers, who daily battle things that I could never dream of battling, all while I sit in my safe, comfortable home sipping coffee. Today I want you to think about these mothers - sisters across the world. What if it was you? Let's link arms and fight for these women to have a chance to love their babies to adulthood. Let's not close our eyes, turn our heads, and be silent.<br />
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Today I write this for her and for her. To Habi's first mommy and to Jamesy's first mommy - Happy Mother's Day - you are forever in my heart. Every time I look into his eyes, I see you there. I love him for the both of us, and he will know of your love in my touch, in my words, and in my heart for him. This is for you and for you.<br />
<br />Tiffanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17435587559894367861noreply@blogger.com0