Gringa, Party of One

Eight days ago I was at church in Guatemala.  Our host, Lauren, brought us to a large church that she sometimes attends called, Casa De Dios.  She brought us here because they specifically offer Spanish to English translation services.

Now, when it comes to my Spanish skills, I would say I am better than the average gringa.  I am not fluent, but I took two courses in high school, two in college, I downloaded the duo lingo app, and have a Mexican uncle.  (That earns me a couple of points, right?)  I can understand most of what is spoken to me and, if the person has enough patience, I can typically reply back with something that makes sense.  As long as I can slow down the conversation, I can get there.

So we arrive and this church and it is beautiful.  It was actually much nicer in many ways than my newly renovated American church.  The volunteers were amazing.  Everyone was warm, friendly, and hospitable.  We had several volunteer ladies help us get our translation ear pieces set up, and an usher walked us to our seats. 

This is the senior pastor of Casa De Dios, Cash Luna.

Church started with worship, which was wonderful.  I had the lyrics on the screen, which helped me translate everything.   Then it was time for the message.  Now, I started with the ear piece in my handbag.  I could greet people and do worship fine without it.  Once the pastor started speaking it was all over.  He spoke so quickly, I was totally lost.  I put in the ear piece and the lady told us in English what being said.  Since it was a spontaneous translation, we kept hearing the congregation laugh or repeat after the pastor several seconds before we got the joke or knew what we should have repeated.  I found myself getting frustrated with the ear piece.  When it came to the prayer time, I just took it out and decided to try my best in Spanish.

Eight days ago, I finally got it.  I attend a multi-cultural church and we do many things to encourage folks from anywhere in the world to feel welcome, but we are English speaking.  After this day, I finally felt how so many of our new church attendees feel.  Here they are in a different country with different customs and a new language.  They have learned quite a bit of the language.  They are able to order at a restaurant or buy groceries with no problem but a sermon is a whole other challenge.  I now get it.  There are a number of things you can do to assist folks but at the very least every single one of us needs to have extra love and compassion for our brothers and sisters who feel led to attend a church that is English speaking when English is not their primary language.  Their desire to be part of your congregation is a gift to you and, in some ways, a sacrifice to them.  It’s hard work to always be translating in your mind…or trying to congregate a verb correctly.  It will be work until it becomes natural to them and who knows how long that will take?  So until them, be filled with grace and appreciation.

Relieved

On Wednesday my phone rang. It was a friend of mine who is a fellow foster mom. She was called about a placement. This placement was perfect for us. Two siblings in the right area of town in the right age range. They both met our specifications for what we are looking for. She had just denied the placement, so we quickly called to request this placement. To keep a long story short, we were told “maybe” and left to wait by the phone for confirmation. Michael was excited. I was excited. I shared the good news with my prayer warrior friends and rushed up to nest. After hours of waiting, I realized that the phone was not going to ring. We were not going to get this placement.

 

This is the first time I have been truly disappointed in this process. I went to my bedroom, grabbed my Bible and read and prayed until I felt peace about the situation.
On Monday my phone rang again. This time it was a different foster mom friend. She was moving and wanted to find her placement a good Christian home. You remember that time I did respite care for the newborn? It was for that little baby boy. He was cute but a little bit annoying to us. A million thoughts ran through my mind. He was developmentally a little behind. Does he have a disability? Does he just need some additional effort and he will be on par with his age group? Do I care? He currently appears like he will be transitioning to an adoption plan. Is he our child?
When Michael got home from work I told him all about the opportunity to foster/adopt this little one. We decided to commit this opportunity to prayer.
So, today is Wednesday and I was informed that, even if we want this little one, Child Protective Services will not honor her suggestions. They will place him themselves.
So…where does this leave us?
Relieved.

Not because we do not want this little one, but because it is out of our control and back in God’s. One of the things I have learned in life is that when I try and make something happen, I muddle it all up. I honestly really want to be a mom and because of this, I feel like I could make a stupid decision and accept a child into our home that isn’t the best fit. I have been praying like crazy that God close the door of possibility to any children who shouldn’t be with us and only open our home to children who we are supposed to have. I feel so much more confident in God’s faithfulness to this prayer than I do to my own decisions.

So, that’s where we stand: still waiting, still trusting, and relieved.

Orange Juice

 

Good Ole, Murphy’s law has been kicking my butt lately.  For those not familiar with Murphy’s Law, it’s the name for the old adage that says, “anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.”  This week it feels like Murphy is constantly knocking at my door.  It’s only Tuesday and here’s what has happened since Sunday:

1)  One of my co-workers has felt the Lord call her and her husband to assist in a church plant.  Though she goes with our Church’s full blessing, I have had to absolve her job duties.  It wouldn’t have been so bad were it not for some miss-communication in which I had to take over her duties a week earlier than planned.  This was discovered on Monday morning as I started my day.  So, here I am trying to cram her full week’s work into my already full work week.

2) My sweet friend told me that she and her husband are expecting.  This comes with a crazy mix of emotions, as my friend has lost a baby around this time last year.  She just found out and wanted to tell me so that I could pray for her baby’s safety and for her heart as she processes through being pregnant again.  Every time I see her or her husband an assortment of feelings flood in: sadness for myself, happiness for them, thoughts of my own angel baby, and prayers that she will not lose another one.

3)  My air conditioning is out in my car.  I live in Atlanta, GA and it’s the middle of summer.  You know that song, “The Devil Went Down to Georgia”?  Well, I know why the devil went down to Georgia…he felt right at home.  It is hot as hell in Georgia in July.   I am currently at work, dreading getting in the car to go home!

4) My husband’s FAFSA was filed incorrectly by me.  I got one number off on his social security number and everything went awry.  His deadline to have it corrected and complete was today.  So, my lunch break on Monday consisted of calls to him, the Social Security office, and his college.  Everything was finalized and corrected TODAY right at the deadline, but it was a close call and stressful.

5) We found out that we are not getting the infant that we have been waiting to adopt.  (We actually found this out a little over a week ago.)  We are waiting on a placement from our social worker and she still won’t reply to my emails.  I have gotten a couple of group emails from her this week though…which is almost like a reminder that she DOES have my email address and just doesn’t want to answer my questions.

Okay, I know we could all swap stories of the craziness of our lives and my life may sound like a cake walk to you, but I am tired: emotionally and physically.  Here is why I am happy: I look back over the last couple of days and I still see Jesus in the way I have reacted to each hurdle.  I wasn’t perfect…I know I looked aggravated on Monday at least, but “old Katie” would have gone medieval on someone.  J  (That’s a proper term, right?  Going medieval?)

As a tough, mouthy Appalachian girl shutting up and just solving the problems or just committing the things I can’t change to prayer instead of complaining is a big step! 

The word says in Luke 6:45 that we speak out of an overflow of what is already in our heart.  The results of our actions are not an accident.  It is based on what is inside of us.  I am in the middle of a study where I am reading the word daily and all my scriptures are focused on God’s love for us, his grace, and how to trust Him.  I really believe that I reacted well because I was so stuffed full of scripture that I can’t believe that it ISN’T going to be okay.  I know that God is in the middle of it all and it will be alright.

I have heard it described by using the example of an orange.  When you squeeze an orange, orange juice comes out – because that’s what’s inside. 

When we you are squeezed, what comes out of you?  Do you have the word of God: his promises, his faithfulness stuffed inside of you?  Are you prepared for pressure?

Speak Life

I remember a debate I had while in Bible college.  I was sitting in the Christian Thought and our professor asked us this question: “as a leader in your church, would you allow a gay man to sing on stage in your choir?”  This brought up a lively debate in which folks went round and round about what line they cross when it comes to allowing someone to serve in the church.  The denomination of the school had an open stance that was not gay affirming, so no one dared to open up that can of worms but you could cut the tension in the room with a knife.  I sat back and listened for a while and then decided I had some follow up questions of my own. 

“Excuse me, do we allow gossips in the choir?” 

My professor looked at me, a twinkle in his eye.  I think he loved the conflict.  He shrugged at me as if to say, “I don’t know, do we?”

“Because if we allow Suzy Gossip in the choir, we need to allow the gay man.  And in my opinion Suzy is going to do a lot more damage to the church than he ever will.” 

Enter the stares.  Now as much as you would LOVE for this to be a post on homosexuality and the church, I am going to move on from there.  I could preach on that one, and most folks close to me know exactly where I stand.  What I DO want to talk about is importance of our words.

I am currently helping organize a women’s event called “Speak Life.”  Every time I see the logo or work on any part of the event, my mind starts flooding with the importance of our words.  I have always thought about the topic of “speaking life” (found in Proverbs 18:21) as a command to not gossip.  That was an easy pill to swallow.  Nobody likes Suzy Gossip!  She sucks!

Today as I was praying, I started realizing that I am great at speaking life over others.  I try my best to encourage my husband, family, and friends.  I speak life over those around me, but when it comes to speaking over myself; I am silent.  Even more, I have been speaking death into certain areas of my life. 

One of the most noticeable places I see this is in my health.  I am constantly praying to be healed (of a non-life-threatening condition) while looking up treatment options and doctors who specialize in the area I struggle in.  What I am telling myself every time I google another doctor or how much a procedure costs is that I do not believe God is going to heal me.  If I really believe that God is going to heal me, I need to invest the energy I spend in trying to figure out what’s going on into praise!  I need to speak life to myself about my healing.

“The tongue can bring death or life; those who love to talk will reap the consequences.” Proverbs 18:21

So today I choose to SPEAK LIFE to myself.  I choose to have faith in my healing.  I choose to believe that He is able and that He will.

Spiritually Beating the Referee

“Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.”  1 Peter 5:8

A while back my boss asked us to read a book called “QBQ.”  I am not much on reading business books, but most of the time, I do find a new concept that I can incorporate into my ministry.  This book had a section entitled “Beat the Ref.”

Now, as a major Atlanta sports supporting family, there have been MANY times that I have wanted to beat a referee (quite literally), so the name alone intrigued me.  The concept of “beat the ref” says that we should be ahead by enough that even if the referee makes a bad call, we still win the game.

Pretty deep, right?  We shouldn’t be sliding in and winning by the skin of our teeth. We should have that margin of error in our game, so one stinky call doesn’t lose it for us.

As I read this scripture this morning, I thought about the concept of “beating the ref” in our personal and spiritual lives.  What if we lived our lives with such holiness…in such a God honoring way that even if we slipped a step, we were still okay.

Where are the areas in which you are barely sliding in?  How can you back up and build in margin so that you always beat the ref?

Let’s read that scripture again:

“Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.”  1 Peter 5:8

Here’s the deal, our enemy is out there WAITING for us to screw up so he can get in there.  So let’s stop burying our heads in the sand and start living our lives in such a way that we are ahead of the game.  Think through the areas in your life where you need to be wise and back up some boundaries.  Be proactive and win.  Beat the ref.

Kidnapping

A crazy mixture of emotions.  That’s what I am feeling today.  As we sit and wait on a potential placement, I keep feeling a crazy mixture of emotions.  There is a baby being born sometime this week.  This baby could be ours.  If we are approved, we would pick this baby up from the hospital and keep it forever.

As the time approaches I am catching myself feeling more guilt than joy.  Joy will come as we hold the little one, I know.  Lord knows that I want few things more than to have a family of my own but for now my heart breaks for the birth mother.  This woman wants her child but is unable to raise it.

I’ve lost a child.  I know each stage of grief intimately.  I have cried, bargained, denied, and been angry.

I am about to cause another woman to go through the same thing.

I remind myself that I am the good guy.  The mother has lost parental rights.  To lose your rights before the child is born means you have to have done some atrocious act.  She is guilty.  This child will essentially be an orphan.  There is nothing this woman can do to regain custody of this child.  It doesn’t take away the sorrow I feel for this mother.  This poor, lost woman who doesn’t know what is about to happen.  I am not without sin.  I am guilty of many things.

Today I asked myself, why am I more melancholy than glad?  Then I remember a prayer that I began to pray years ago and still pray occasionally.  The prayer is simple: “God break my heart for the things that break yours.”

I remembered that prayer as I thought about this woman: this prodigal sister who is about to go through extreme heartache.  I am glad that I do not find joy in her loss.  My heart breaks for her, just as her Father’s heart breaks.  If given the opportunity, I will care for her little one.  He or she will become my own and I will do my best, but I will not forget her sacrifice.  I am both thankful for her and sad for her condition all at once.  Above all, I want her to find Christ and pull her life together, even if that means I have to wait longer.

These are my mixed up feelings.  These are the feelings of someone adopting through foster care.

Be Nice or Be Quiet

Let me start out by saying, I know some wonderful women who participate or have participated in pageants.  Among my friend list I have a Miss Georgia, Miss Teen South Carolina, and many more beautiful title winners.  I don’t think you’re bad if you’re in pageants.  All of my girlfriends who participated are beautiful, well-educated, and kind women.  One of them used the scholarship money to help fund law school.  (How about that for brains and beauty?)

I never got into the whole pageant thing as a kid.  I never looked remotely like the women competing, so I had no interest in following them.   Even though they never offended me, there was something that always bothered me about them and it has nothing to do with the girls competing, it was the spectators.

I say this after I saw a thread on Facebook that broke my heart.  It started with one post about the Miss USA pageant.  My friend was complementing women who competed.  The replies from her friends turned my stomach.  They were from women dissecting and critiquing the contestants.  Their curves, teeth, attire, all being torn apart.  No one mentioned their talent.  No one mentioned their interview questions.  It was all about how they could be more attractive.

Seeing these women picking out the flaws in others created this odd mixture of mad and sorrow inside of me.  I wanted to shake someone…then I wanted to cry, because this is how women treat other women all the time.

Now, if I were a mean, mean person I could pull out Matthew 7:5 and start talking about how these judging women were looking at the speck in their neighbor’s eye when they had a plank in their own.   Since I am a kind woman, I will not point out what these women could improve upon; I will just mention that none of them to my knowledge had ever won a crown.

Here’s the deal, I just want to live out this Jesus thing every day.  I am not perfect, but this one seems pretty obvious: be nice or be quiet.

“Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.” –Ephesians 4:29

It’s a tall order, but I believe in you!  Be nice or be quiet.  Whether it’s pageant girls, your mom, your brother, or that guy at the grocery store: be nice or be quiet.  You can do it!

 

Open to What Comes: Our Foster/Adopt Update

I was speaking with a friend this morning about my experience with the baby we had for a week.  I know I shared with you the tough parts, but he was a cute little stinker and there were some fun parts as well.  He had a great smile.  He also loved our dogs and would stare and smile at them.  (It was cuteness overload.)  He was a pretty good kid.  As a matter of fact, he was everything we had requested on our foster/adopt paperwork.  He was our first choice in gender and age.  He looked like he could be our child (something we didn’t request but I think deep down both liked.)  We also were required to give them a list of what disabilities we did and did not want to manage as parents and this child was right on par with what we thought we could handle.

But it wasn’t right.  From the first day I didn’t feel connected to him. He looked like he could be a member of our family, but he didn’t act like the babies in my family acted.  Something was just off.  If this little one came open for adoption today, we would not accept the placement.  He didn’t fit in our family.  We asked God for a certain kind of child and when we got him, it wasn’t right.  I almost feel as though God gave us that experience so that we would clear our mind of what is the right child for us and be open for whoever he sends our way.  Something about this has made me more excited than before.  As opposed to planning for a certain kind of kid, we are going to be given a total surprise.  I can’t wait to see what God does.  He knows us more intimately that we know ourselves, so we choose to trust Him.

For those who want the update, our paperwork is complete.  Our home studies are done.  Any day we should receive a call or email saying that we are approved.  From the moment they say “approved” we can get a child or children placed in our home.  We will be licensed as a “resource” family.  That means we will foster with the intent to adopt the child were he or she to become open.  So, prayers in our direction, please!  We want God’s perfect plan for our lives: no matter how that looks.  (One child, two children…we’ll see what we get!)

Liam Neeson and God’s Love

One of my favorite movies of all time is “Taken.”  In the movie, Liam Neeson plays Bryan Mills, A retired CIA agent who travels across Europe and to save his estranged daughter, who has been kidnapped while on a trip to Paris.  The move is intense to say the least.  Bryan knows from his previous job experience that you only have so many hours to find a kidnapping victim before they’re gone forever.  You watch as Bryan does everything humanly possible for his daughter.  He is jumping over things, running, shooting things…he is pretty much batman without the cape.

I am currently in the middle of a Bible study where we are studying scriptures about God’s love for us.  As I was reading today I kept thinking about the parallels between Bryan’s love for his daughter and how the Father loves and pursues us as His children.  Check it out:

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by your name;
You are Mine.
 For I am the Lord your God,
The Holy One of Israel, your Savior;
I gave Egypt for your ransom,
Ethiopia and Seba in your place.
 Since you were precious in My sight,
You have been honored,
And I have loved you;
Therefore I will give men for you,
And people for your life.
Fear not, for I am with you;
Isaiah 43: 2, 3, 5

First of all, when he says, “I have called you and you are mine!”  Wow.  Then He goes on to say that he would give Egypt for our ransom.”  (You see where I was going with the Taken reference?  This guy is just like our dad!)  We are loved like crazy by a God who would go anywhere and do anything for us. He would run, jump, and fight for us, beloved. The next time you are struggling with whether or not you feel worthy, remember you are called by name and your father would did and will do anything for you.

Put a Sock in it, Baby!

This past week I was watched an infant for a friend.  I’m not talking about babysitting…I am saying that a baby moved into my house for a solid week.  We’re talking midnight feedings, diaper changes, snotty nose and all.  Now I have tons of experience teaching early childhood.  I have served as a nursery worker, infant teacher, children’s pastor, and preschool instructor but I have never parented a infant.

Now on behalf of all people who think that the job of a mother has got to be much easier than it sounds, I AM SORRY.  As we say in the south, I am worn slap out.  I worked all day and came home to this little ball of joy who did not understand that I needed a break.  He didn’t care that I wanted him to just go to sleep after dinner.  The most interesting part of the journey is when he discovered that he has a voice.  The child would scream with a smile on his face.  He would yell, smile at you, and yell some more.  Nothing was wrong, the sound just amused him.

It did not amuse me.

It was most “not amusing” at bedtime when all I wanted was to rest.  So, I would sing softly in his ear.  My thought was that he would quiet down enough to try and figure out what I was doing.  It worked!  So, there I was singing every song I could think of: Jesus loves me, The Alphabet Song, Blues Clues, Ke$ha…anything that would make this kid put a sock in it.

Then this morning I was reading Zephaniah 3:17:

“The Lord your God in your midst,
The Mighty One, will save;
He will rejoice over you with gladness,
He will quiet you with His love,
He will rejoice over you with singing.”

I had always pictured this scripture as the Lord loudly singing over us.  I think it’s the word rejoice that made me think that…as if rejoicing can only be down in an exuberant way.  I had somehow grazed over the part where he quiets us with his love, but this morning as I read I thought of this little baby in my arms.  How I would sing over him and bring peace to his unnecessary chaos.  Then I imagined our father doing the same for us: rejoicing over us like a proud papa and singing softly in our ear until we calm down and feel his love.  Oh how he loves us.