.Finding Rest.

The fear is creeping in again. I rock him, and I feel his body stiffen and refuse my touch. It started the night we came home from the children's hospital, and then it accelerated this weekend after his blood draw.

It hurts watching him battle.

He is trying a new self soothing destructive behavior. Every time we lay him down he bangs his sweet little head, over, and over.

Yesterday I felt such frustration as I reached for him and rocked him and tried to make him understand that there is no need for that anymore. Daddy and I can comfort you now. I whispered to my precious third child. My tears slipped over the contours of my cheeks and mingled in his soft curls. It was then that my heart heard His whispers.

But daughter, you have been doing the very same thing that your son is doing right now. Each night you go to bed, and I offer you My comfort, My peace. My arms reach out for you, and you stiffen and turn away. You mentally list your worries and fears. Over and over you shuffle through them in your mind imagining scenarios that could make life situations better, and in a most destructive way imagining terrible scenarios that could be.

There is no need for that anymore. You have been redeemed. You are no longer alone.

Have you not heard me tell you before how to find rest? Let me invite you again.

Come to me, [Tiffany] who is weary and carries heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your soul. (Matthew 11:28-29)

Last night we found rest.

Jamesy snug in the arms of his Mama, and both Mama and Jamesy snug in the arms of Jesus.



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.The Least of These.

I did not know my eyes could see that way. They burned and throbbed in the seeing for real. I blinked hard at the pain of having the scales fall away and the view that was before me. My mind swirled with the statistics. Statistics that I have been clinging to for nine months, statistics propelling me forward inching me closer and closer to Ethiopia. Flesh and blood and hallow eyes, and empty hands reaching through the van windows desperate for food. They both destroyed and gave life to all of the numbers bouncing in my head.

When did we in America - when did I replace living, breathing children, and people with numbers? Or did we never replace them, were they always figures to us? Is that how we manage to wash our dishes, kiss our children's foreheads, drive to the grocery store without a thought for the least of these? It must be what I did.

It took ten days of having my heart trampled and bruised from witnessing things that keep me up at night and unable to know when and how to tell others what I saw with my new eyes. It took ten days of finally understanding the least of these, and knowing that they are the most valuable in the eyes of the One who gave His life for them. It took ten days of agony as my eyes were pried open to the horror and the beauty mingled in human form not arbitrary numbers.

And now, now I am wondering how to be here. How do I tidy and pretty my home when I now know that I saw children living in trash heaps, surviving on sidewalks parallel dirty, busy roads? How do I tuck my children into bed at night remembering the beautiful faces of the children in the orphanages who sleep two to a bed, bunked in a tiny, cold room - locked in until morning. There is no Dad , no Mom to tuck them in, not even an adult in the room to calm a nightmare. They were just numbers to me before I met them, and now I lay down at night on my pillow and I hear their cries of terror, their pleas for love and something so simple as family. I remember their hurts.

What am I doing here? What am I doing for the least of these?

I remember the little boy in the denim jacket. The way he looked at me as I handed him some treats from my bag. His smile warming me as he clutched the treasures. Those eyes locked mine, and through the language barrier, I knew what they begged.

Are you the one I have been waiting for? Are you the one to end this nightmare and make me a son once again?
And now I live with the knowing that I am not the one - at least not for him. I was chosen for another boy. But the images of he and his friends are sewn into my heart, my mind. I won't forget what I saw, what I know. I promised them that I would tell others, that I would advocate for them. I don't know how though. I fall short. I cannot let these little souls be lost in the overwhelming numbers, and yet I am not the One who opens the eyes and softens the heart.
Perhaps that is one of the hardest lessons I have yet to learn - figuring out what to do with the knowing.

Because one day I will stand before Jesus....

I doubt he will ask me how many times I dusted my home, or if my children were dressed in GAP, or even did I home school?

He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left. “Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’ “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’ “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ Matthew 25:33-40


No, I can't save the world, but I can clothe, feed, and give a home to some and tell them of the One who came to save the world. Because when I looked statistics in the eye, all of my excuses escaped.

.I Lost my Heart in Ethiopia.

We are home. It is hard to be here. I missed my children so, and am thankful to wrap my arms around them again. But if I am being honest, all I really want is to grab them up and turn right back around for Africa. I don't want to be here. I walked back into my house and felt sick. The prim decor that I have been collecting for years might as well have slapped me in the face. I cannot believe that I ever worried about couches matching or new carpeting, or the colors on my walls.



My stomach turned with the knowing - with what I had seen. I'm panicking now as I realize that this feeling of disgust will fade. Ethiopia will not be so vivid and pungent in my mind, and all this will once again seem normal - even necessary or deserved. Writing that makes me choke back bile. I have been so clueless, so spoiled, so blind. I could plead ignorance before. Although, it is a weak plea. But now, now that I have seen with my own eyes, I truly am responsible to act.



God brought us to Ethiopia for our son - and for so much more. It's the more that I am trying to process. I know my emotions are raw, I am sleep deprived, battling severe stomach issues, and missing my son in an excruciatingly painful way, but this is exactly where God needs me. He brought me here - to complete and utter vulnerability in order to break me in two. I know that it took this journey to Jamesy, traveling to Africa, holding orphans, and seeing poverty for me to truly be changed. I am ashamed that it took all that, but now that I know, now that I have seen, I am ready for however God wants to use me.



I just pray that I stay in this raw, vulnerable state for as long as it takes.



Some of you know via facebook that our MOWA letter of recommendation was not at the court house on the day of our court appointment. We were prepared for this, but it was still crushing. However, it does not take a piece of paper or a judge's declaration for me to know that Jamesy is 100% our son and predestined for our family. Because we did not pass, I cannot share photos publicly or tell you the amazingly awesome way God is working and healing his little life - and it is killing me!!) I have much to write about our son and our time with him, and it will come soon. He is precious beyond words. Our next court date (which our agency appears in our place for) is February 8th. I am trying not to get my hopes too far up, but am pleading with God that this be His timing. Kissing his precious face and whispering into his ear that we would not leave him as an orphan was the hardest thing God has required of me to date.



I'm still processing. I have only touched the tip of the iceberg of all that my heart holds from our trip. I know that most of it needs to be shared, but I do not know how. I feel so inadequate. Please give me grace and patience, as I untangle my mind and grasp for the stories knitted into my heart. I want to steward it all well.

My heart is lost somewhere in Ethiopia with two brown-eyed boys - one whom will soon be my legal son, and one whom I would give anything to find a way to make me him my third son.




Note: I opened comments up again for a time, as I am so behind in emails. Hoping this alleviates that a bit. More grace.