to the mamas in the trenches...

Recently I’ve been talking with several mamas in the trenches of motherhood. Mamas of new babies, mamas of rebellious two year olds, mamas that just had their second babies. I remember the days of screaming babies all too well. Some people say it fades from their memories and it is just a blur of happy moments strung together now, forgetting the tough times and hard days. Maybe it is either too deeply etched in my heart or not enough time has passed for me yet. I remember the countless hours Reese would scream, as her reflux burned her chest until she would projectile everywhere to get a moments relief before the next wave of screams began. I remember holding my newborn and watching my 18 month old tantrum while Wheeler screamed as his 3^rd, 9^th, 15^th, 25^th ear infection came and went. There was no way to calm him, I remember just sitting him in his crib and leaving the room because I felt so inadequate to help him, so confused why he wouldn’t stop crying, so helpless and defeated.

Somehow as moms we have coached ourselves that a “good mom” doesn’t feel like this. That a good mom always is oozing with love for our children and never struggles to keep her own identity while battling losing it in a child that is demanding so much. Society has told us that moms have to have it all together, look the part, have the clean house, beam with each pregnancy, and have a fit body while toting around our well-behaved children that we adore every minute of every day.  Can we just have some freedom here? Freedom to feel the feelings we have?  I’ve had to learn to give myself grace upon grace and seek what I cannot find in Him. I am so thankful that God says he is most powerful in my weakness. That if I am going through a time of "suffering" in motherhood or marriage it is for his glory. That his power is about to be dispersed right into my deepest weakness. 

Once we adopted two more and now had a 6 year old, nearly twin 4 year olds and a 1 year old, I felt at times I had to keep up a front that it was all perfect. Because after all, we fought to bring these kids into our family, we wanted this, we chose this path, we knew what we were getting into and that there would be tough days and seasons ahead.  But that still doesn’t mean there aren’t hard days, hard weeks. Days where I don’t feel like being a mom, days when four kids just feels to hard, days when I lose my patience, days when love is a choice, not a flippant oozing emotion that emits from my being. And I have come to terms that it is ok. God’s love fills in the gaps, God’s grace covers a multitude of my flaws. Sometimes I just need to cry out for God to fill me up when I think I am losing myself in the mix of it all. I need to step back and remember his faithfulness and anchor my identity and value in Him. I need to ask again to see it all with his eyes and respond with His words, not my own faulty ones.

Satan shouts loudly at us women. That we have to have it all together, discipline biblically every time, know exactly what our child needs, feels or thinks, keep our marriage running with ease after a day of pouring out to our kids.

Newsflash. I can’t.

Satan shouts loudly, but God is our shield. I’ve been claiming this verse in Psalm 3 this week.

Psalm 3: 3-5. But you, Lord, are a shield around me, my glory, the One who lifts my head high. I call out to the Lord and he answers me from his holy mountain. I lie down and sleep; I wake again because the Lord sustains me.

Because lets face it, moments that look like this are more familiar than......

ones that look like this.... :) Or is that just me?

So to you other mamas, who find yourselves in the trenches, come on in. It’s better when we are down here together! 

Father's Day Dedication

There is a man who likes to work behind the scenes, pouring out, serving until his heart is emptied. That man is my husband. John never stops amazing me with his humility and compassion for others. I watched this week my husband had to choose to not intercede with a friend who needed help because it crossed the lines of morality. He knew the right thing to do, and chose it, but it was at the expense of someone elses felt need or convenience, and it crushed him.  He cares so big. He wants to give big and love extravagantly. And he does it best with us. I am so grateful he continually puts us first, without prompting. He knows the hard parts of my day and he checks in or goes ahead and comes home early to make it through together. He chooses us over his work nearly every time. And I see it. I see that he might take a hit in profits or sales so that he can be a present dad and a loving and supporting husband. I look at other men who exchange this so quickly and I am so beyond grateful John loves us like Jesus loves the church. He lays down his life for us in so many small ways and big. He makes time for our kids individually, he gives love and affection. He gets home from a long day at work and immediately is on the floor being horse, or flip spotter, wrestler, swing pusher, trampoline bouncer, and encourager. I see the way our kids light up and squeal when his Jeep pulls in the drive, because it is daddy, their daddy. The one who is giving them glimpses of how much their heavenly father loves so intricately. John is the one showing them a shadow of what the Lord sees their value to be. He does it well. Not perfectly, but so well. 

I can hardly put my gratitude into words for the sacrifice, selfless love he gives to not only each of our 4 children, but first to the Lord and then to me too. Above and beyond.

John you are more than adequate, you are an amazing leader for our family, even when you don’t feel like you measure up or are doing as good of a job as you think you could. We see your heart, your work, the way you provide for us, the way you serve others in front of our family at the expense of yourself.

You are loved and adored by these 5.

Happy father’s day,

Referral Anniversary!

It has officially been a year today of seeing our two African treasures faces and being matched with them as their forever family. I wrote about it that day in this post. I remember that day so vividly. The anticipation of it all. The fear and nerves and anxiety wrapped up in it all. Because after all, how do you fall in love with a picture, and idea of someone?
I guess I can relate it best to seeing our ultrasounds of the first two. You know there is a baby in there. You have no idea what they look like, what gender, what their personalities will be or how they will change your life. Same for this situation with a few different emotions on top! I remembering opening my email to see this....

and weeks later this sad girl and scared little boy...

and getting news of parasites and stitches for Levi, and bacterial infections, and Levi moved to our facilitators house because of weight loss and someone stealing his food, and weeks later we got these...

I remember each set of pictures being like Christmas morning. But yet the heartache quickly follows that I have missed so much of their growing up. And that I can't protect them or take care of them. And the excitement and fear of what life will look like when they are home.
 You could have told me what this year would have held and I would have listened in disbelief. The miracles, the suffering, the healing, the pain, the transformation, the busyness, the new normalcy.
It is hard to say that I am 'thankful' that they were taken to an orphanage in 13 months ago in Kinshasa, DR Congo. Because gratitude and pain go together so intricately in the complexity of our story.
Now, on the other side of it all, hearing my almost 5 year old daughter telling me memories of being alone, scared, taking care of Levi, not liking living at the orphanage and never wanting to go back to live there, being hungry. It is heavy to hear the stories, some which will be only hers to tell.
But I am so grateful for this year. For Levi Moses White and Maran Grace White. Their heritages will always be celebrated. Their skin color will always be talked about and seen for what it is, beautiful. They may not look like their mommy and daddy but they are no less ours.
And what I told Maran last night when she laid her dark chocolate hand on top of mine and said "Me pretty like you mommy?"
Yes you are sweet girl. God made you just the way he wanted you. Dark, beautiful, strong, kind, loving, affectionate. God took something Satan wanted to hurt you and changed it for your Good and our Good. Because God is good. Sometimes Good looks different than we think it should because we can't see the whole picture. God is in charge. God has offered to adopt all of us. And you get to be adopted twice! You are a precious girl and my gift. Here forever in our family.

Hers and Mine: A mother's day dilemma

I’ll give you a peek at my last several Mother’s days. They have each been so different and so full of a range of emotions.

5 years ago I was swallowed in motherhood. Overwhelmed, lonely, trying to keep my head above water with a 1 year old and 2 month old and a husband who was working non-stop to get his business running. I was in a new town, no friends, no roots. I struggled to be grateful for my blessings instead of just seeing the demands of my minute by minute.

4 years ago I pushed myself to be grateful. With a 1 and 2 year old life was busy and it was hard to get time to myself to recharge. I was sure our family was complete and very set on adding no more children to our family, finally making it out of the trenches just a bit.

3 years ago we were starting to hit our stride. Mother’s day was fun and enjoyable with handprint flowers and pancakes in bed. I finally enjoyed motherhood far more than I was overwhelmed or swallowed in worry or stress from it. I was so thankful for our two kids and life was finally getting easier.

2 years ago on mother’s day was the time God planted that seed in my heart…are we done? Really? It was then that we started exploring adoption again and just a month after mother’s day that year, we embarked on a journey to adopt.

1 year ago, mother’s day hurt. Where were my children? What was their mom going through? Our family was not complete and we all tasted the hurt of longing and a lack of wholeness in our home. Mother’s day without my children made my heart ache in the waiting but yet still trying to enjoy the moments with our two at the time.

This mother’s day is a flurry of emotions. I am so grateful for where we are. 4 kids later we are busy, life is a little chaotic, loud and unpredictable. But it is also fun, hilarious, and right where I want to be. There are still hard days, even some every now and then where I recall very closely those days of trying to keep my head above water. But more so are the days of laughter and interesting conversations, funny questions, deep talks, silly games and hours outside.

But my heart is split this mother’s day too: For the mom that my children are surely starting to forget. I pray her face isn’t fading from their mind but it has now been at least a year since they were together. Maybe a lot more. The few memories Maran has shared with me are all positive about her mom. And I see her everywhere in Maran and Levi. In their round dark eyes, in their precious pouts, in their desire to help, in their compulsion with organizing and closing things, in their gentleness and desire for affection. I know that their mother loved them well. But most likely, death or poverty separated them from her. No family should ever be separated due to poverty. My heart aches for her if she is alive on this day without her children. My thoughts go to the aching in her heart, much greater than mine last year on this day. The two children she bore, she has no idea where they are, if they are alive, if they have a family. What I wouldn’t give to sit down with her and tell her all the joy she has brought into my life. Her pain and tragedy is my incredible gift. She has done the greatest thing. Laid down her desire, for our children’s survival. I cannot imagine being in that place. No one should ever be. This is the messy part of adoption. In a perfect world, in heaven, there are no orphans. There are no families separated by preventable illness, a shortage of money or food, or war. This is not how God intended. That is why our family will fight fiercely and give extravagantly to prevent orphans from being created in the first place. This is our passion. But sometimes you have to respond to tragedy. Adoption is that response for us as well.

I’ve written their mom several letters, letters that will never be sent, but just trying to get the weight off of my heart and the thoughts off of my mind. But she will always be in our lives. I will pray for her frequently. I will tell Maran and Levi about the woman who made the impossible choice for life for them. The complete self-sacrifice she most likely made to give them a chance at hope.

You see, they are our children, both hers and mine. Just because I hold a paper that says they are now mine, that takes away nothing from the fact they were hers first. She saw their first smiles, rolls, coos, crawls and steps. She felt the pain as they entered the world, she felt the pain the last time she saw them. I walked alongside their pain as they mourned the loss of her, the loss of the life they knew, the loss of the “comfort” of the orphanage. My thoughts went to her as Levi took his first steps. As we clapped and cheered for him, I thought of her. My heart went to her on Maran’s first day of preschool, how proud she would be of her daughter that is now speaking English, sharing, and venturing into brave new territories. My thoughts went to her as we got back all of our medical tests, how she fought valiantly to protect them the best she could. While I don’t want to “glorify” her to my children, I know she made some courageous decisions. Decisions that some people would see as selfish or unnecessary, she made the best choice she could.

You see we are all mothers facing different decisions, hardships, and challenges. Unfortunately her hardship caused her the loss of her two babies, her hardship is my blessing. She bore it for me. I will never know the true story of her choice, but I see it in the eyes of her children, my children. It is rare for two women to share such a fierce love of the same two children. We are forever linked through the chocolate skin and almond eyes of our children. Hers. Mine. Tragedy. Victory. Pain. Blessing. Loss. Redemption.

We were reading the story of Lazarus the other night and talking about resurrection and God changing things for our good and his glory. The redeeming power of Jesus. What Satan intends for harm, God turns for the good of his children. I shared a sweet moment with Maran, this is your story my sweet girl. What Satan intended to leave you robbed, alone, orphaned on the streets of Congo, God used for good, for her good, for mine mostly I am sure. God gets the final word. Jesus has the victory here. Even though their mother still feels the pain of this, even though as a family we will walk through seasons of suffering and pain as a result of a heart full of hurts, confused identity, or past baggage there is still victory there. And we are each a grace-filled picture of beauty from ashes.

to my friend who lost her son

Oh sweet friend,

My heart breaks for you. Ever since I heard, I have had a deep pit in my stomach and I wake up in the night thinking of your loss. I know this is nothing but a sliver of the ocean of hurt you are in. There are no words to convey my aching for you or sadness that accompanies the loss of such a short lived life of 16 years. Many people try to comfort with words that end up hurting like knives driving the pain in deeper. "Heaven needed one more angel", "it will take time to heal", "It's all in God's hands and timing", "He's smiling down on you from heaven", "At least we know he is in heaven" While some of these are true, they do not help the pain and loss you are feeling.  Even worse are the stories people share about friends or relatives they know that have lost children so "they know how you are feeling".  If I were you I would want to crawl in a hole and shout NO YOU DON'T! Because we don't know how you are feeling. What you said to me keeps repeating in my mind "How do I think of never more? Never seeing him in the yard again, at the dinner table?" As I stood with you Sunday and held you while you cried, you had such strength, such grace, and such perspective. I was reminded of Jesus with Mary and Martha after Lazarus died. Both of them said to him "If you would have been here sooner he would not have died." That is such our tendency. But I am so thankful of his different responses to them. To Martha- the thinker and analyzer- he gave truth and perspective. A reminder of what is to come, what has been conquered, and what we have access to through him. But to Mary, he wept with her. No answer, no explanation, just walked through her emotions right along side of her. So I pray Jesus is exactly what you need, just like I know he will be. At times, he will be a companion in your pain, curled up right there with you, tears streaming over the loss of your beautiful son.  And other times, he will be there with you, giving you wisdom, truth, perspective, and revealing the glory in the tragic, the beauty in the suffering. He promises it. And I claim it over you.

So I just sit here as a friend, hurting for you. It is such an honor to stand with you, support you any way I can, and boldly go to the throne for you intercessing when you cannot find the words. Tonight will be hard, Tomorrow will be hard. You will not find closure most likely, but then again, that is not really what we seek at a funeral. I am praying for joy in the memories of your son, a comforter in your sadness, a companion in your pain, small steps of healing to a wound that will never close completely, and a shoulder to lean on in your husband as a tangible reminder of Gods steadiness and steadfastness. 

And I do believe he may not be looking down on you from heaven. He is in the fullness of Jesus and I doubt I would want to take my eyes off that to look down on the temporary of the world, but I don't know. I do know he has never seen more beauty and glory than he is experiencing now. But even that doesn't take away the pit in your stomach, the piece of your heart that left this world Saturday. If only I could help you carry the burden of your pain. 

Satan is ugly, the war is real, he gets at us at every front. But remember this. You are a good mama. Jesus is known to everyone in your house and is seen to all who enter there. He will sustain you even when you don't want to be sustained. And he won the war already. 

So I will do all I know I can do. Sit here and hold up God's word right back to him. And tell him to do what he says. Be near to the brokenhearted. Be the counselor, the comforter he promises to be. To reveal glory in suffering, to give you more of himself.

My heart aches for you, 

Into the waters

Oh I am so behind on blogging but need to go back and document one of the most special days as a mother that I could think of.  If you remember this post from over a year ago, I told you about how our then 5 year old put her trust in Christ and believed who he says he is.  Since she was so young, I did not want her to rush into it all but she was adamant that she wanted to make that commitment and be baptized.  We had a lot of discussion about fruit and how our lives transform after understanding who Jesus is and what he has done. We waited to pursue baptism as she grew in her faith. It has been an amazing year to watch this incredible little girl see the world with different eyes, to care for the least, to include the outcast, to welcome in strangers into our family, and to do it all with grace (most of the time);). Reese challenges me to think bigger, to pray bolder, and to share Jesus with more confidence. She was getting her hair cut the other week and the lady told her to sit still so she doesnt cut her ear off (jokingly). Reese replied, very matter of factly, "thats no problem, Jesus could put it back on, he has done it before with that soldier in the garden". The hair stylist looked extremely confused and went on about cutting. She also invited her entire class and teachers at her public school in our liberal town to her baptism! Her boldness challenges me to take advantage of opportunities. To speak expectantly and matter of factly about how Jesus works, his power and what he has done for me. I cannot put into words yet the feeling I had as I watched my baby girl step up those steps and into the waters of baptism.  She looked back at me, a little fearful, but obedient to what she had set out to do.
They asked her, "will you go wherever Jesus calls you to go?", "yes" she said. "Will you do whatever he asks you to do?" "Yes." she replied again.

And under she went, as she followed Christ where he had asked her to. As if I could see into the future for a split second, my mind flashed to high school, college, going over seas, serving others, finding a spouse. My prayer is always that she will go back to those questions she was asked before she went into the waters. 'Is this where Jesus is calling me to go?' Then I will go. 'Is this who Jesus is calling me to serve?' Then I will serve them. My prayer is her yes's will outweigh her no's and her obedience will be what marks her. I also told God that day, again, in as bold as I could muster, I will try to never be a hindrance to her obedience to God. If that takes her to a remote village in india, freeing sex slaves at the risk of her life, or if it takes her to the mountains of Afghanistan or the grassy plains of Africa, or a job in a cubicle in suburbia where she will work for the glory of God. I do not want to hinder her obedience with my fear or worry.

I also want to commit to expose her to the bigness of God. The depravity of our hearts. The atrocities of the world. I will do her such an injustice to shield her from these things in the name of protection. It is just the opposite. 

So baby girl, way to go. What a big step you have made as you draw closer to your God. 

So humbled, honored, and privileged to watch as you grow. Your salvation had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with Him my sweet girl!

(Her letter says "Dear God I love you, but I know that I sin. But each day please clean out my heart, please, because I want to be kind to you Lord cause I love you more than everything. Dear Jesus I love you but I know that I sin. But after God cleans out my heart you can. And can you do that because I want to be extra loving. From Reese)

Wheeler's big adventure, my big prayers...

Oh my goodness... This post is going to be difficult for me! To put into words all I have been told and all that I experienced here is too much!

First off, let me start by saying this trip brought me to my knees like nothing before. Sending a 4, almost 5 year old to Africa will do that! Not because I was necessarily fearful for his safety, but more so that his Four-ness and Five-ness would make him miss what God was trying to show him. You take any 4/5 year old overseas, 30 hour journey to get there, 8 hours ahead of our time zone, hot, different foods, different people, slums and diseases and it seems like a recipe for whiney, tired, complaining, shyness, and shutting down. I had some major talks with God. After reading the Circle Maker by Mark Batterson (shameless plug, go buy the book, read it now) I stepped up my game in the prayer department. 

I begged God expectantly that Wheeler would not whine, that his sleep would be quickly adjusted, that the barriers of skin color/disease/being the minority would be gone, that he would be filled with compassion to give and share and bring joy, that his child-ness would not hinder what God could show him there, that God would spark in him a desire to serve and love those people, that he would play and have fun, that food would not be an issue, that diahrea would not hold him down, that him and John would have a special time together. Not only these seemingly impossible prayers, but I also prayed selfishly, while I was home for 11 days with 3 kids that God would give me patience and strength, that we would actually have fun and not just "survive", that miraculously, some how Levi would sleep through the night each night so that I could be full in the morning to face the day. If you know our lives, you would know how giant these prayers were. Talk about a mountain, I was shouting at God to move about 20 of them. 

The boys left on my husband's birthday and journeyed 3 flights, 29 hours to Nairobi. John would text or email me at each stop, amazed at how he had done on each 9 hour leg to the next spot. How he was making friends, sleeping well, playing games, and having such a good attitude. Each time, I felt a huge wave of gratitude as yet another prayer was answered. One of my favorite updates I got was that Wheeler had made friends with a Kenyan girl on the last leg before arriving. He asked her so excitedly and assuredly, "Do you know my sister Maran? She is from your land!" As the wheels touched down in Nairobi, John says he shouted "Dad where are all the black people? I can't wait to see them!" 

The boys were visiting with a ministry called Care For Aids. (Www.careforaids.org) This is a ministry that at its core is amazing. The face of this ministry in Kenya is the local church, not some "white american" with the answers or resources. They employ Kenyans to run centers that target the lepers of the kenyan society, HIV and AIDS infected people. These people are on their way to death. With no medicine they are frail and dying and their families reject them and don't want to be associated with the stigma of promiscuity that accompanies the disease. Wives leave husbands, husbands abandon wives, and if they make it in their marriage they are on their way to creating more orphans when they die of the disease. This program takes in the whole family, give access to medicines, has health and spiritual counseling, shares the gospel, spends 9 months recovering the health of the infected and their marriage. It is at its core orphan prevention, gospel with hands and feet, and saving families. They teach them skills so they can have a business or trade. They get them on their feet and give them a reason for living and the hope we have in Jesus. I cannot say enough about this ministry. They have 14+ centers all over Kenya, most in the slums near Nairobi and Kisumu. 

The days were full, waking up at 7-8 am (12-1am our time) and not returning for bed until 9-10 pm that night. They were jammed pack with walking miles to different places in the slums, doing leadership conferences for the Care For Aids centers there, visiting with graduates of the program in their homes, hearing stories of transformation, etc. At night Wheeler was so energized by his day. As John would speak to the adults or be listening to them talk, Wheeler would be off playing with the 10-20 kids that gathered around him (having never seen a white child that young most likely, he was a fast celebrity). He gave out lollipops, put his hat on everyones head, shared his sunglasses, let the kids lead him around where they lived and played, played soccer for hours at a time, and was a champ at trudging through the mud sewage filled streets. Every time John would update me I would listen in disbelief. I would tell him not to sugar coat it for me, to tell me how whiney he was. Every time he would tell me how amazed he was, how he could hardly believe it himself. How he wished I could see our son and how giving and compassionate he was to the kids. 

I suddenly realized too how our adoption had broadened his horizons as well. It had taken away the idea that different is scary. He was used to hugging and kissing black children at home every day, it was not new or uncomfortable for him. So it was his natural response there as well. 

John told me one story that solidified it all for me. John said Wheeler was surrounded like usual by several kids, checking out how his shoes would light up when he stomped, when about 40 feet away in the distance a little boy fell down in the dirt. Wheeler made his way through the crowd and went over and helped him up, patted his back and dusted him off. 

Now let me tell you, this is not my son at all times. I mean, don't get me wrong, Wheeler has a huge heart, he is so compassionate and caring and generous. But that is at his best. It is not his default mode. He is a little more on the whiney side than others and he can be shy as well in groups. But not in Kenya. John said he was like a politician, kissing, hugging and shaking hands and high fiving every kid he met. No way God! These were the circles I had drawn in my prayers, expectantly praying that God would do this. God would shine through him. I was encouraged and sustained each day with God's faithfulness to answer my prayers. 

Then not only at home, Levi slept the first 7 nights without a peep. Not one wake up. Before this trip, his longest stretch in our 6 months together was 2 nights of not waking up. 7 nights in a row! Every night I would wake up in the middle of the night shocked I hadn't heard him cry. I would try and force myself to go back to sleep with a smile on my face thinking No way God! You did it! The 8th night he woke up and as I walked in there he had put himself back to sleep. FIRST TIME EVER since we have known Levi to do that! Not only this but each day, I had such joy and excitement and I was by far a more fun mom than usual! We made pizzas, painted nails, went out for ice cream, went to parks, jumped on the trampoline, went swimming. We had fun! I kept being so surprised at the energy and sustenance the Lord had given me, because this was far beyond my normal! Much less for being a single mom for 10 days! 

Now don't get me wrong. There were imperfect moments, wheeler whined to be held after walking a few miles in the hot slums, I lost my patience several times, Wheeler didn't want to try the potato and stew mash prepared for him and settled for a granola bar for dinner. But these were the exception. 

I never thought I would be so impacted by a trip they went on. But God blew me away with his faithfulness and goodness. Now don't get me wrong, God would have still been good even if Wheeler whined the entire trip, but instead he took it as a chance to show me that he heard my prayers and answered them fiercely. And I am beyond grateful.