Moving….

No, I’m not moving, but my blog is moving.  I’m consolidating blogs.  Most of you know I run a small bath and body business called “Catie Beth”.  I also have a blog for Catie Beth and it’s where I do most of my writing.  Right now, I’m mostly talking about soap, business and how to help orphans, but there are other, slightly more personal, topics that I’d like to post about over there and don’t have time to keep up with both blogs  We have fun over there, with giveaways and sneak peeks at what I’m creating!  So, if you follow me here, I hope you’ll follow me at Catie Beth.

No Greater Love

Right now, I’m in Greensboro, North Carolina; home of my Alma  mater UNC-Greensboro.  Scott, the kids and I drove here from Missouri to reunite with four of my dear friends from college and their families and to visit the campus.  My friend, Jenna and her husband have been our gracious and generous hosts during our visit.  I haven’t seen many of these friends since 2004, and I haven’t been on campus  since 1996.  I have pictures and memories, but I haven’t actually WALKED those familiar sidewalks to and from classes and STOOD in the shadow of my old dorm with these women in over 15 years.

For three of the four years I was at UNC-G, I lived in a dorm called Gray Hall.  I lived on the  third floor (room 325, to be exact) with some of the most awesome women I will ever have the privilege of knowing.  They are the women I call my “lifelong friends”.  We haven’t always kept in the best  of touch over the  years, though the progression of Internet, email and social networking has helped us to do better, but they are still very much a part of my life.  Everyone is married, has a family and some of us have even shared the journey of adoption together.

 

Visiting campus with my girlfriends, husbands and gaggle of children made me feel like nothing had changed and everything had changed.  Some parts of campus were completely unrecognizable. Where a gravel parking lot and old houses once stood, a giant parking garage and baseball stadium rose in their place.  We often had to ask, “what used to be here?”.   Though there were many new buildings, the heart of campus had remained the same. 

However, it wasn’t just the paradox of the campus grounds that unsettled me, it was the feeling of same and different that I felt on the inside.  Being among my college friends on our college campus was like going through a time warp.  There was such a strong sense of familiarity.  We shared so much of life together during those years and knew so much about each other.                          (1992)

                                                                                      (2010)

And though there is much about me that is the same, there is also much that has changed and I imagine the same is true for them.  Though the familiarity was there, so was a sense of remoteness.  Even though we stay in touch, some of us more than others, I can’t just zip down the hallway to chat or vent or pray with them.  And, boy, do I miss that!

This weekend was a lot about the past meeting the present and it left me very emotional.  I love my present.  I love my family and the fun times we share together.  And, I love that I got to share  four years of my past with some awesome women who are still my closest friends.  Being with them again made me wish, even more than I have been lately, that I could have those same kind of close friendships in the present, but it seems impossible given the busyness of life. 

So, I am extremely thankful for my college friends who are also my current friends; even if we have to chat, vent and pray for each other through email or Facebook.   And I am determined to do what I can to not let another six years pass before we all get together again!

Hiking Blog

I have a new blog all about my hiking adventures! It's called Suburban Escape. I love to get out and explore the great outdoors and fall is the perfect weather for it. Come along for the hike!

Sis and Bro’s Lemonade Stand

All summer, the kids have been after me to let them have a lemonade stand.  I put them off with as many excuses as I could…”we don’t have time right now”, “it’s too hot”, “there’s nobody out.”  FINALLY, I let them have their lemonade stand.  They were so cute.  They made their sign together and worked out who handled the money and who served the drinks.  They lasted about 45 minutes in the 94 degree heat, but they had three customers during that time (one even gave them a tip). 

So, why was I so opposed to them having a lemonade stand to begin with?  I don’t know.  Something about them sitting along the side of the road (even if it was right in front of our house) just made me uneasy.  Ok, I admit it.  I’m probably overprotective of them.  I won’t let them go but a few houses away from ours.  It’s just been within the past couple of months that I started letting them go across the street to play outside at the neighbors house without me there to supervise.  And what’s strange about my fears is that I can remember being four years old and running up and down the neighborhood and my parents had no idea where I was until I decided to come home for meal time.  When I was old enough to roller skate, I’d take off up and down the sidewalk.  When I could ride a bike, I knew every street in my neighborhood by heart.  And nothing bad ever happened to me, so I’m not sure why I keep such tight reigns on my own kids.  I guess I just like to know where my kids are and that’s not such a bad thing, is it?

 

First Day of School

We started back to school this morning.  We didn’t finish last year’s social studies before summer break, so I decided we needed to start a month early and wrap things up.   Jacob was excited to start school and asked me all morning, “when are we going to start school?”.  Caitlyn was not so thrilled to be back in school, but she tried to have a good attitude.  Right now, we’re just doing math and social studies.  We’ll launch into a full schedule the end of August.  I think I’d rather eeeaassseee back into school like this.

A Boy Named Patrick

It was evening when the doorbell rang.  Scott got up to see who was at the door.  I was in the living room and couldn’t quite hear what was going on.  I heard Scott say, “We don’t have regular phones, just cell phones.”  I looked toward the doorway and saw a tall, young man whom I’d never seen before.  Based on his height and build, I figured him to be about 15 or 16 years-old.  I got up to see what was going on.  I thought maybe it was the boy across the street and he was locked out of his house.  Scott had handed him a cell phone and he was making a phone call.  I asked Scott, “What’s going on?”  “He had a fight with his dad and ran away from home.  He’s trying to call his mom.”  It wasn’t the boy who lives across the street, so we had no idea who he was.  I eavesdropped on his phone conversation.  His mom wasn’t home.  His Dad got on the phone.  (I could hear him coming through the receiver.)

Dad: “Where are you?” 

Boy: “I tried to go to the gym where I work out but no one was there.  I’m at someone’s house using their phone. Can you come and get me?”

Dad: “You got there.  You can just bring yourself on back home.”

Ok, this was getting really bizarre.

When the boy hung up, Scott asked him some about the fight he had with his Dad and where he lives. “Did your Dad hurt you?”  “No.”  “Are you going to be okay if I take you home?”  “Yes.” “Where do you live?” (Leaving out his home location, but it was 3 miles from our house!) “What’s your name?”  “Patrick,”

So, Scott and Patrick left.  I went back to the living room where the four kids were.  Of course, they started asking all kinds of questions.  “Who was that?”  “Why did he come here?”  “Where did Dad go?”

In my mind, I was already praying for Patrick and for Scott; for Scott’s safety and for their conversation in the car.  I told the kids, “All I know to do is to pray for this situation.  There’s a reason Patrick ended up on our door step and God knows it.  We just have to let Him use us.”  Michael said, “Maybe Dad will tell him about Jesus.”

When Scott returned, I asked him how it went.  He said he walked Patrick to the door and his mom came out.  She knew about the fight between Patrick and his Dad and thanked Scott for bringing  him home.  I asked how the conversation was during the car ride.  Scott said, “I asked him where he goes to school, what activities he does and if he goes to church.  He said his family goes to church sometimes.”  Scott then told him that God always loves Him…that He loves him so much He gave His son Jesus to die for Him so he can have eternal life.  Anytime he’s having problems, he can always go to God because God is always there for him and will never leave him.  Patrick didn’t say anything about that, but I’m praying the truth stays with him.

Wow.  I’m so proud of Scott for taking the opportunity to share about Jesus with this hurting boy…who turns out, is only 12 years-old.  And I’m so amazed that God chose to use our family to minister to Patrick.   I’m going to keep praying for Patrick. 

My Yankee Doodle Boy Turns 6!

I can’t believe my “little” Jacob is now 6 years old!  Where has the time gone?  Seems like only yesterday when Gil arrived to our home in England on July 2nd and said, “Catherine, you don’t look so well.”  Little did I know I would go into labor that evening and give birth the next morning to an 8 lb 13oz baby boy.  Well, I already knew the boy part.  :)  Jacob was an active, spunky baby and he hasn’t changed a lick in the past 6 years.  He loves to be goofy and make us laugh.  The best thing that hasn’t changed over the years is that he’s still my cuddler.  He still comes and sits in my lap and gives me hugs and kisses.  Oh, how I cherish my sweet boy!  Happy birthday!

Celebrating Our Independence

What better way to celebrate our country’s independence than spending the 4th of July holiday in our nation’s capitol?    So far, we’ve had the privilege of touring George Washington’s home at Mt. Vernon, staring in awe at the Washington Monument, gazing at the somber face of Abraham Lincoln at his memorial and mourning the loss of hundreds of  thousands of brave lives at the Vietnam Veteran’s Memorial Wall and at Arlington National Cemetery. Washington, D. C. is a beautiful city; rich in history and culture.

Post-adoption update

 

Since bringing Abraham home, we have to file adoption reports with our agency after three months, six months, one year and then annually until Abraham is 18 years-old.  Every time we file a report, we have to send in a dozen pictures of Abraham, including a family picture.  This is our six month post-adoption picture.  It will be fun to see these pictures as the years go by.  Already, Emily is taller than me and Michael is growing like a weed (I’m standing on my tip-toes behind him!).  Caitlyn is always ready to pose for the camera and Jacob is in the make-goofy-faces-at-the-camera stage.  Abraham is now nine months old…I can hardly believe we’ve had him for five months!  The time has flown by and yet it feels like he’s always been a part of our family.

Brothers

Abraham loves his biggest brother, Michael.  They met for the first time just a few weeks ago and are bonding fast.  Michael is so sweet because he often gets down on the floor to play with Abraham and cuddle with him.  Tonight at dinner, when Abraham was fussing, Michael took it upon himself to feed Abraham his puffed cereal.  It did the trick and kept him quiet.  Abraham knows his biggest brother is looking out for him.

My little mermaid

I LOVE working from home and my sweet, little girl (don’t tell her I called her “little”) is one of the many reasons why.  Summer has barely begun, and she has already taught herself how to do summersaults, handstands, and snorkeling in the pool.  I’m pretty sure she would stay in the pool all day if I let her.  Almost everyday, she hurries down the stairs in her bathing suit and swimming mask and jumps into the pool. 

Step-mom/step-daughter bonding

I took my step-daughter, Emily, to see Chris Tomlin and Toby Mac this past Friday night.  It was great to get to hang out with her.  We spent a fair bit of time goofing off in the car on the way to the concert.  It was the best we could make out of the horrible traffic situation.  A trip that should have taken us 45 minutes, took 2 hours due to an accident on the highway.  To keep us entertained in the bumper-to-bumper traffic, Emily made up stories based on the signs along the interstate.  My favorite was one about a cow who went to Dairy Queen and was offended because she thought SHE was the Dairy Queen.  Even  though we ended up being an hour late, I’m thankful that I got to spend some time with her.  She’s only with us for eight weeks in the summer and every other Christmas, and while she’s been here, she has spent a fair bit of time in her room.  I can’t say as I blame her…what with being a thirteen year-old with four younger siblings.  Shoot, many times I want to have some alone time in my room.  But with all the daily family matters, I haven’t gotten to spend much time alone with her. 

I’m also thankful that Chris Tomlin played first, so that we didn’t miss any of Toby Mac’s performance…which was AWESOME!!

“You can’t just eat the grubs…

…you have to eat the crickets, too.”

Words I thought I’d never hear myself say to my eight year-old girl. 

A year ago, Caitlyn bought a book called “Oh Yuck! The Encyclopedia of Everything Nasty”.  It is a very well-read book.  One of the “nasties” in it is about people who eat bugs.  For what ever reason, Caitlyn had been pestering me lately to buy her some chocolate covered insects so she could try them.  Her rationale?  “Well, eating meat is gross to some people in other countries, but eating bugs isn’t gross to them”.   I couldn’t argue with her thinking.  So, Daddy ordered her a heapin’, helpin’ of chocolate covered grubs and crickets.  They arrived in the mail today, much to Caitlyn’s delight (and to my disgust).  She tore into them right away.  I even let her try one before dinner; at the risk of ruining her appetite!  The chocolate was a bit melted on them, but we’re keeping them in the fridge so they stay nice and fresh.  Eating bugs is all about variety…white chocolate or milk chocolate covered bugs.  Caitlyn chose a milk chocolate covered cricket for her first foray into bug eating. I made her pause a moment so I could get a picture…in case she spewed the contents all over the floor. She popped the little cricket into her mouth and remained all smiles throughout.  Phew!  Her thoughts?  “They taste like chicken with chocolate, only they have a slightly bad after-taste.  I think I have an eyeball stuck in my teeth.”

And there you have it folks!  My daughter is now an eater of insects.  She has since eaten a handful of chocolate covered grubs and crickets.  Perhaps I won’t have to hire someone for pesticide anymore.  The bugs in my yard should be running scared!

Lavish Love

Abraham has bonded with me. His face lights up when he sees me. He cries if, on the rare occasion, I leave him in another's care. When that happens, it's my cuddles and kisses that calm and reassure him. He reaches for me when I go to get him out of the crib. We've been sharing many special moments together, but my favorite by far is when I give him kisses all over his sweet little face. He grabs my hair, pulls me closer and coos with joy. I am head over heels in love with this little boy and I'm pretty sure he now feels the same about me.

But, this didn't happen over night. It's taken months of, not only meeting his basic, physical needs, but also meeting his emotional needs. Playing, cuddling, soothing, kissing...lavishing love on my littlest boy.

As I reflected one day on this transformation, God laid a verse on my heart. 1 John 3:1. "How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!" What an awesome perspective God has given me! I am both the receiver of His lavish love on me, His adopted child, and the giver of lavish love to my adopted child, Abraham.

There was a time when I didn't know God, but He knew me.
He took the initiative to love me and to demonstrate His love for me.
He pursued me.
I quit running and accepted.
I'm now His adopted child.
His forever.
And He continues to lavish His love on me.

Another thought struck me today while I was giving Abraham his kisses. God initiated His relationship with us through a kiss. "The LORD God formed the man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being." Genesis 2:7. God was so close to man as to breathe life into him. I've always envisioned this as a kiss. Imagine, the God of the universe being as close as a kiss. And, yet, how sadly ironic that Jesus, God in the flesh, was betrayed by man with a kiss. However, the kiss that Judas meant for evil, God meant for good. To bring us a different kind of life. An eternal life. God's love is lavish indeed!

The Aroma of Christ

So, I've been doing this Beth Moore study about the Tabernacle and I'm now realizing how awesome it is that I did a different study about the Tabernacle last summer. I'm getting more insight into God's plan for worship between the two than I would if I had studied just the one or the other. I now want to muddle through my thoughts; making no promises about the organization or coherency of this post.

This week in my Beth Moore study, God brought me back to thoughts and convictions I had last summer about His holiness and how we, as Christians, are to approach him in worship. Speaking generally, I think Christians (including myself) often approach worship flippantly, as if any ol' manner of worship will please God. However, if we believe the God of the New Testament is the same as the God of the Old Testament, then we need to tread reverently. When we approach the throne of God, we are walking on holy ground. Remove those sandals! Remember, our God smoked Nadab and Abihu (Aaron's sons) for offering "unauthorized fire" before the Lord. When Korah and his friends grumbled about their God-chosen work in the Tabernacle; thinking they should be able to approach God as the priests did, God opened up the earth and it swallowed them whole. (Korah's sons later penned Psalm 84..."better is one day in your courts than a thousand elsewhere". No more complaining after THAT hard lesson).

The Tabernacle was, is and will remain God's design for our worship of Him. The Tabernacle itself pointed toward Christ; the ultimate and final sacrifice for our salvation. It is because of Christ's sacrifice for us that we can approach God's throne at all. The Tabernacle was designed by God (Exodus 25:9) and was an earthly copy of His heavenly dwelling place (Hebrews 9:23-24). We are remiss if we think we can worship God in any way we choose. Jesus made it clear that true worshipers worship "in Spirit and in Truth". We must have God's Holy Spirit in us, which can only come through accepting the Truth, Jesus Christ, in order to be a "true worshiper".

Well, I have both Spirit and Truth, so where does the Old Testament Tabernacle fit into New Testament worship? God's design for worship never changed, it was just fulfilled through Jesus. Our manner of worship does not change, rather the means by which we can worship has changed. I will try to draw some similarities between the old and new.

In the Old Testament, God dwelt among His people in the Tabernacle. His people could approach him by first entering the outer court of the Tabernacle through the gate. There was only one gate, one entrance to God's presence. This is still true. Our one way to enter God's presence is through belief in Jesus Christ. Jesus said "I am the gate; whoever enters through me will be saved" (John 10: 9). Upon entering the courtyard, the first item was the Altar of Sacrifice. A person could go no further toward God until God had dealt with their sin on the altar. God himself had lit the fire beneath the altar and it burned continually. The same is true today. We could not begin to approach God if Jesus, being both man and God, had not offered himself as a sacrifice on our behalf. As in the old testament, we must lay our sin offering on Christ, our sacrifice, to receive forgiveness.

Next was the Bronze Laver or basin where the priests washed their hands and feet. They were commanded to do this or they would die. Before the Passover Feast, the Last Supper, Jesus washed his disciples feet. When Peter protested, Jesus said, "Unless I wash you, you have no part with me" (John 13:8). Jesus also referred to the Holy Spirit as "streams of living water" (John 7:38 - 39). After we have accepted Christ's sacrifice and have sought forgiveness of our sins, we are cleansed by God and receive the promised Holy Spirit.

Moving forward, the priests could then enter the tent which contained two sections that were separated by a veil; the Holy place and the Holy of Holies. Within the Holy place were the golden lampstand, the table of showbread and the altar of incense. Within the Holy of Holies was the Ark of the Covenant; upon its Mercy Seat dwelt the living God. I'll have to save my thoughts on most of these items for another post because it would be too much for now. Right now, I want to focus just on the Altar of Incense.

The Altar of Incense sat directly in front of the Holy of Holies. It was as close as one could get to God without actually being in His presence. In order to burn the incense, the priests had to obtain lit coals from the Altar of Sacrifice. One day Aaron's sons, for reasons unknown to us, decided to use any old fire to burn the incense, and God consumed them with His fire. I imagine the coals from the Altar of Sacrifice smelled strongly of the blood from the sacrificed animals. Maybe bits of burned flesh had fallen onto the coals. The coals were then used to burn the incense. Revelations 5:8 and 8:3 both state the incense represents the prayers of the saints. The Altar of Incense represented the prayers of God's people. The priests were to mix together particular spices to make the incense. While the incense burned, the people worshiping outside the tent prayed (Luke 1:10). The smell of the incense (prayers) combined with the smell of the fire (sacrifice) created a pleasing aroma to God. Notice, however, that sin had to be dealt with before prayers were offered. The incense could not burn without the coal from the Altar of Sacrifice. I love in 2 Corinthians 2:15 where it says, "For we are to God, the aroma of Christ..."

Finally, I'm to my point. As believers who have accepted Christ's sacrifice, we can approach God's throne with confidence, but have we forgotten we must still approach Him in the way He created. There was an order to how one approached God in the Tabernacle and that order still remains. We must first let God deal with our hearts and our sin, let him wash us clean, and then we can enter His presence with confidence to pray and worship Him. I guess I feel that our contemporary churches, in our attempt to draw large crowds, have focused too heavily on the production of worship rather than the creator of worship. If we were to follow God's design for worship and how we are to approach Him, shouldn't that begin with a time of bringing our sins to the altar of sacrifice? Of course, Jesus was the final sacrifice, but that doesn't mean we no longer need to bring our sins before Him so He can cleanse our hearts and minds. Isn't that how we are able to approach His throne with confidence? I'm not trying to be legalistic about this, I just think that if God designed a pattern for worshiping Him, both on earth and in heaven, then shouldn't we follow it? Not just at home in our personal lives, but also in corporate worship with fellow believers? Now, I love my church, but off the top of my head I can't think of any services that began with a few quiet moments for the congregation to let God deal with their sins. If we look at the Tabernacle and the fulfillment of that in Christ, we see that, before we can offer acceptable prayer and praise, we must let God deal with our sin. I wonder how much more meaningful our worship might be if we began our singing with clean hearts and minds; having let God take away our guilt and worries.

As a part of our church's worship team, I can not stand on the platform and lead others in worship without having first allowed God to search my heart and to confess my sins. It's such an important part of approaching God's throne and yet it seems to be grossly overlooked in contemporary churches.

What do you think?

Some people!

I recently posted a picture of myself on Facebook holding Abraham and I captioned it "Cuddle Monkey". I've called all my kids "monkey" at some point or another. It's just a term of endearment I like to use. "My little monkeys", "you silly monkey", etc. Abraham is such a cuddler, that I like to call him "my cuddle monkey".

Well, somebody who was on my friends list (notice the "was") took it upon herself to message me and to warn me of using the word "monkey" when referring to Abraham. Evidently, the term "monkey" or "porch monkey" was used as a derogatory word for African Americans because they often congregated on their porches. She also went so far as to give me lessons in motherhood. "As his mother", you wouldn't want to expose him to a confrontation that might ensue if you referred to him as a "monkey" in front of African Americans. What is so funny, is that this is a White woman who claims to know how I should raise my African American son because of her own connections with a bi-racial family.

What's worse, is she began her tirade by calling herself my "friend" and saying that she "knows my heart", so that somehow made it okay for her to give me some "friendly advice".

I had so many emotions going through me after reading her message; anger, annoyance, frustration, indignation... There were just too many ways for me to reply, so I chose not to. I felt the only thing I could do was delete her message and remove her from my friends list so that she doesn't message me about these things again.

So, I will rant and rave here, on my blog. Hopefully, it will help me work through this.

First, this person is only my friend on Facebook. Meaning, I don't think she and I have ever spoken to each other in person, nor have we ever commented or messaged each other on Facebook. When I received her message, I actually had to look up her profile to figure out who she was. We are remotely connected because our children know each other. So, for her to say she was warning me as "my friend" and that she "knows my heart" was like a slap in the face. She is not my friend in the true sense of the word and she certainly does not know my heart, because if she really did, she would have never felt the need to message me in the first place.

Second, I am not about to walk on egg shells where Abraham is concerned. He is my son, first and foremost. All this woman saw was, "he is black, you are white". By her cautioning me about using the term "monkey" where he is concerned, she perpetuates the prejudicial treatment of African Americans and negates him as my son. Am I supposed to say to Abraham, "even though I call Caitlyn and Jacob my 'little monkeys', I can not use that term for you because you are an African American"? Doesn't that just usher in racial prejudice inside my family? He will figure out soon enough that he looks different from the rest of us. Why in the world would I add to his struggles by also treating him differently? And where would it end? Should I now rid his wardrobe of all clothes that have pictures of monkeys on them?

Third, clearly this woman does not know me or she would know that I do not give a flying flip what other people, Black or White, might say or think about the terms of endearment I choose to call my children. Now, if I were going around calling Abraham the "n" word or "stupid monkey" or something like that, I think a stern chastising would be in order. But, "cuddle monkey"? Come on!?

Finally, the term "Christian" began as a derogatory term. It means "little Christ" and was used as a put-down. Should I be worried about using that term in front of other Christians?

It boils down to this, some people need to mind their own business.

Me and my Cuddle Monkey

The Lucky Ones

We were at a restaurant last week when a lady saw us with Abraham and asked if he was adopted. We told her he was and so she asked, "where from?" We told her, "Ethiopia". After that, she got pretty weepy-eyed as she extolled our decision to adopt him and how lucky he was that he was given the chance at a better life. She really went on and on about how lucky Abraham was that we had "rescued" him. It began to make us feel uncomfortable, but we just politely nodded our heads at her until she finished and left.

Later, Scott and I were talking about this encounter and we felt the same way about it; that WE are the lucky ones and that we don't ever want Abraham to feel beholden to us for "rescuing" him. I am very much aware of the life that "could have been" for Abraham as I got the chance to see some of it first-hand. But there are also lives that "could have been" if we didn't now have him in our family. What joys we would be missing out on!

Though Abraham entered our family differently than Caitlyn and Jacob, I am just as privileged to be Abraham's mother as I am to be Caitlyn's and Jacob's mother. I don't think God added Abraham to our family just to "rescue" him, but to bless our family and to give us a chance to witness God's providence, strength and glory in ways we hadn't before. We had to rely soley on Him to provide patience during the waiting process, peace as doubts entered our minds and finances as we certainly didn't have the money to bring Abraham home. And now, I have the privilege of teaching Abraham about Jesus, praying for his salvation, and seeing what great things God has in store for him...and for us!

In the final hour before we went to get Abraham from the orphanage, the orphanage director at Hannah's Hope, Almaz, said something I will never forget. She said she wished adoption wasn't a necessary thing. Her prayer is that these "jewels of Ethiopia" might someday not need to be adopted and taken away, but can stay and be a light to their home country. Wouldn't that be wonderful! Again, it reminds me of our own adoption into God's family. There was a time when adoption wasn't necessary; when God and man walked side by side in the garden. Then came the fall so God had to make a way to redeem us and adopt us into his heavenly family again.

Making this journey into adoption has taught me so many things about God's faithfulness to us when we are following His heart's desires and not our own. We talk about what a mighty God we serve and how He is our provider and our Rock, but until recently, I hadn't really given God the chance to be those things; choosing to rely on my own strength and resources. God has truly shown me that, when we follow Him, there is NOTHING He can't do. EVERYTHING on earth and in heaven is His. God's heart is with the orphans and He will move mountains to bring them to their earthly homes. I pray that more Christians will take a step of faith and adopt; knowing that God WILL provide the strength and the resources.


Goofing around.

What does God want to teach me?

This past school year, Caitlyn has been studying the Old Testament combined with Egyptian history. We are about 5 weeks behind due to a long Christmas break followed by our trip to Ethiopia, during which the kids spent a couple of weeks at their Mimi's and Pap Pap's (with no school). At the beginning of this month, I began a Beth Moore study called "A Woman's Heart, God's Dwelling Place". It is about the Tabernacle and God's desire and initiation to dwell with His people.

What is awesome about Caitlyn's studies and my own is that they have crossed paths, such that she and I are studying the same scriptures at the same time. I do not see this as coincidental, but I know that God wants to teach me something during this time. Is it His providence? His desire to meet with me right where I am? His faithfulness in spite of my unfaithfulness? I'm not sure, so I'm praying that He reveals it to me.

I didn't grow up learning about God's providence and faithfulness to his children, so I am so pleased that Caitlyn gets to learn about these things as a young lady. I pray that these early lessons stay with her during the years ahead and that she learns to rely on God for all her needs.

Rough Day

Today, Abraham thought he'd try to prove me wrong on all the comments I've made about him being easy-going and content most of the time. And, he thought he'd choose my time at my ladies' Bible study to test this out. He spent almost the entire hour fussing and crying; even throwing in a few high-pitched screams here and there. He'd had a bottle and a diaper change, so all I could figure was he was tired but over-stimulated from seeing all the people and commotion at Bible study and he just couldn't get himself calmed down. We strolled the halls at church, rocked, talked, and sang until he eventually settled down and went to sleep. I had offers of help from friends to hold him while I was in class, but because we need to bond, I have to be the only one (unless Scott is around) to comfort and soothe him.

Tonight, while I was rocking him to sleep (without any fussing or crying), I thought about how privileged and blessed I am to get to be his mommy. How for months, he didn't have a mommy to sing to him or lull him to sleep with songs, hugs and kisses. Right now, it can be difficult to be only one of two people who should comfort him in his times of distress, but as I rocked him to sleep tonight my heart just swelled with love for him. Adoption is an amazing thing.


Sleeping in Mommy's arms for the first time.

"Is he yours?"

Yes, I have already been asked this question. I was putting Abraham and his car seat in a grocery cart when one of the grocery store employees came over to offer me some help. Clearly, I haven't finagled a car seat into a shopping cart in quite some time, so I appreciated her help. When we were finished, she looked at Abraham and asked, "Is he yours?" I said, "Yes. Thanks for your help, " and walked away.

I've known for some time that people are going to ask questions and have been through training and preparation for how to respond, but it still threw me off. Later, I thought of all the sarcastic responses I could have given. "No, is he yours?" "Why, what have you heard?" And so on. I also began to wonder if she thought I stole someone's baby. Should I start carrying his birth certificate around everywhere so I can PROVE to others he is mine?

But if the positions were reversed, I would probably wonder the same thing, or just assume he was adopted or that he was being baby-sat. The difference is that I wouldn't open my mouth and ask a complete stranger if the baby with them was "theirs". Do some people just lack the gatekeeper that prevents odd thoughts in their brain from popping out of their mouth?

Initially, I didn't think such questions or comments would bother me, but that was when Abraham was my son in theory. Now he's here and he really is my son. Not just in theory or on paper, but in my heart. So, to be asked, "Is he yours?" was, well, hurtful and insulting, even if was just an ignorant question.

So, all this also got me thinking about my relationship with God as His adopted child. "Am I yours?" How often do I question my worth and value as God's child? I know Abraham and I will always be faced with the question of "Is he yours?", but I pray that he never questions that for himself. That he always knows He is first, God's and second, mine.