Ramblings of a White mom with Black kids

(One of my friend groups in 6th grade)

My first encounter with my whiteness occurred my 6th grade year. We lived in Tampa and they were trying to integrate the schools (click the link for a great video explanation of redlining and current day segregation) so they were bussing our suburban neighborhood into the inner city. My mom gave me the choice if I wanted to switch to private school that year and I chose public. The first day of school was the first day I ever was the minority. It was a predominantly black school situated across from the housing projects of inner city Tampa. I remember not feeling afraid, just aware. I remember that year noticing the different ways teachers treated kids of different races. I was given the benefit of the doubt, they typically weren't. I could get away with talking in class, they got a consequence. Most of my friends were black. That year changed a lot in my heart. We got out of school frequently for shootings, the projects being on fire, etc. I remember thinking, this isn't fair.

Fast forward a few years, God set something deep in my heart for reconciliation. I remember strangely having a heart set for Africa. I wanted to move there, I wanted to adopt. In my sophomore year of college, I met my future husband John. He was the punter on the Auburn football team. His best friends were mostly black. His roommate was black. He grew up in Brazil and had a perspective on the world I found wildly interesting. I told him "Don't ask me to marry you if you don't want a multi-racial family"... we were engaged a few months later. Our first neighbors were black. I would have afternoon conversations with her that opened my eyes more to the black experience as an adult. She would tell me about bias in her job, bias she experienced while shopping or dating. I was shocked, and it hurt my heart for what she had experienced.

Fast forward a few years into our marriage, we had a 3 and 4 year old, lived in a suburb of Raleigh, and were looking at schools for our kids. We decided then that public was the route for us. We wanted our kids to see the world and all the differences in it. We wanted our school to be a place that represented the diversity of the world. We soon journeyed into international adoption from a Central African country. Bringing these two beautiful children into our family stretched me more than ever before. I educated myself on everything from moisturizer, to hair care, to adoption issues, poverty, struggles of a transracial adoptee, and raising children with trauma in their history. I pressed deeper into the black community for wisdom and advice. I intentionally expanded my community to embrace and authentically love people of color. I wanted our children to grow up with role models who looked like them. My own inadequacy grew as I am a white mom raising two black children. I don't know what it's like to be black, yet I am raising two black children.

As my kids got older, and I listened more to the black experience of society, it was no longer an "out there problem". It was my problem. It was my son who could've been shot while ringing a doorbell looking for directions. It was my son who could have been shot while being pulled over and reaching for his license. It was my daughter I would have to tell to be more cautious walking through a store. I grieved and feared as I realized I would have to raise my black son to be more careful in neighborhoods, driving, stores, etc. I realized my black son would most likely receive less of a second chance, more of a "guilty until proven innocent" mindset where my white son would most likely be given the benefit of the doubt and assumed "innocent until proven otherwise". My fear escalated and I reached out to moms of color and asked for wisdom. I didn't want to parent out of fear of who society would see my son to be, but yet the racial climate in society is clearly tense. How do I not teach my son to live afraid but at the same time realize he has to be more careful than his siblings when sitting down at a coffee shop or while driving a car? It honestly makes me sick, my heart truly laments what I have to tell my children as far as history of the black experience and the current status of race in America. It should make us all sick. This is not a "black people problem" it is all of our problem.
We have grown up hearing a narrative about race. We need to dig deep and explore the narrative we believe. We need to have ears to hear hard things. We need to repent of our own prejudiced hearts. We need to examine our thoughts and fears when it comes to people of a different skin tone. We need to build geniune relationships outside of people who only look like and think like us. 

The same evil that fueled the Holocaust is the same evil behind slavery, lynchings, Jim Crow laws: the essence that you take someone's humanness away, rejecting that they were equally made in the image of God as an expression of His beauty, and treat them as lower than an animal. There were centuries of oppression, injustice, murder, hatred. How do we think so wrongly that 60 years of "progress" in this racial injustice has changed centuries of hate? 

When a murder happens like Stephon Clark, Eric Garner, Charles Kinsey, why does the white community so often respond with questions about circumstance instead of empathy? Shouldn't loss of life be worth mourning no matter the circumstance? Shouldn't we take the time to listen why these instances spark fear in the heart of our black neighbors? Aren't we supposed to love our neighbor as ourself? The problem is our neighbors look a lot like us, only like us, and we have redefined neighbor to sameness. We are not reaching across our differences and asking questions, leaning in, listening, mourning with those who mourn. 

Explore the narrative you have lived and heard your whole life, where has it taken root in lies? Examine your community. A pastor at our church so wisely said, 'Uniformity is not unity'. The root of surrounding people who only look and think like you is self-love and selfishness. Lean into the discomfort. Fight for reconciliation. Explain race in a gospel centered way to your children, color-blindness is just another form of racism. They see color just like we do, so showcase it in all of the beauty God intended. Diversify your dolls, your bookcases, your discussions around the dinner table.

Is the ground level at the cross? Yes. Did Jesus die for this reconciliation? Yes. Is his blood enough to break down this racial hostility? Yes. Does he already have victory over the evil and hate that divide us? Yes. But we are still living in the in-between. The not yet. I feel like the disciples on Good Friday. That did not look or feel like victory to lose your savior who was supposed to bring peace and have victory over evil. That looked like defeat. 'Surely this isn't how it is supposed to end' they must've thought. 'You can't leave us like this Jesus', they must've felt. I thought you came for peace, I thought love covers a multitude of sins? Yes. It does. But his kingdom isn't on earth yet in its fullness. It isn't on earth as it is in heaven. Yet. So until that day comes I will keep raising my voice, using my privilege, against hate and injustice. I will fight for reconciliation, until Jesus brings it to completion, and thank God he will. But I have a role to play, and I will play my part no matter how I fumble through it, mess up, and move forward and then back again. My kids deserve it, the world desparately needs it.

Please look into these books and resources as you lean in to this topic.

A 3 part series on Race in America our church did: 

http://summitrduinstitute.com/classes/race-america-week-1-3/

http://summitrduinstitute.com/classes/7156/ 

http://summitrduinstitute.com/classes/7156-copy/

Books:

Just Mercy, by Bryan Stevenson

White Awake, by Daniel Hill

Under our Skin, Benjamin Watson
Oneness Embraced, Tony Evans
I'm Still here, Austin Channing Brown

Blog post on White Privilege 

Putting on my oxygen mask

As a teenager I used to think it was so selfish how they told the parents if there was trouble on a plane to put on their own oxygen masks on flights before putting on their children's. I think this thought permeates our way of living somehow and especially women and moms tend to serve others first at the expense of ourselves. At first take it sounds extremely self focused to focus on your self before helping others. But as our premarital counselor so wisely told us, "you can't pour anything out of an empty cup". And there's a reason God commands us to love him first before going about loving others. 

Putting yourself in the backseat is not always humble, it can sometimes be foolish. I've realized I have to prioritize time with God and filling myself up daily before I can pour out. Otherwise I am pouring out from my own strength and it is not kind or useful. 

God has used this year and a half after doubling our children to remind me that he has put me in a place of desperate dependence. Coming off of my month in Congo I felt like I could finally live and breathe again. Congo felt like this huge intentional pause and reset button on my life as God walked me into suffering, sat there with me, and reminded me of his nearness. However once coming back home it is always so tempting to take my eyes off him and live in a place of doing it myself. 

 As I reflect on this last 16 months I realize God has orchestrated circumstances to remind me that I still must live in desperate dependence, I still, minute by minute, have to choose to SET my eyes and affections on him. Even though there's more mouths to feed, more kids to get more places, more things to do around the house, I have to consciously put myself first at his feet and get filled up. 

I watched the IF conference online and two (if not all) of the talks pointed right at me. One point of Jen Hatmaker's was about the verses of communion in Luke 22. She talked about how this was a spiritual upheaval of the systematic ritual of the Passover. Instead of methodically making the way through the meal, Jesus became the meal. He asked the disciples to do this to others. As a kid we always thought "do this in remembrance of me" meant 'think about me when you take communion'. But the word choice he used actually meant to continually day by day be broken and poured out for others. To actually make the gospel real for people each day with our words and our lives. She asked "who is God calling you to break yourself and pour yourself out for? Who is God whispering to make the gospel real for?" For me, most days, these people reside in my home. But I also have to remember I am not the bread or the wine. He is. And I have to receive that from him before I pour out. 

This weekend I spent in the company of a dear group of friends. 

A group that speaks truth over me, challenges me, checks in on the tough places in my life, we hold each others marriages up, call to action, pray for in mid conversation something someone is talking through a struggle. This is bread. This is wine. This is filling up. Pouring Jesus out for each other and into each other. Such a beautiful picture of community. 

I'm sitting on a plane headed back to my house where my amazing husband has been daddy all weekend. He's made meals, taken kids to and from school and birthday parties, even got the girls manicures and made homemade yogurt Popsicles.  From afar he has filled me up. Not with his own efforts, but pointed me to Jesus. Who provides and sacrifices and serves gladly, without bitterness or misguided intentions. 

So I'm so grateful for a weekend of intentionally filling up. Focusing and reflecting on my growth. This is the best gift I can give my kids daily is to point them to seek his kingdom first and everything else will be added. 

Thank you Jesus.

One year home today....

One year. One year? It can't be. I can't believe it has been only a year since we landed on US soil. Since we left a country I will have an eternal connection to that I cannot explain. Since our lives were changed forever. 

It is hard to wrap my mind around what life was like before adding Maran and Levi to our family and yet it feels like its been a blink since we boarded that flight from Congo and I watched Maran's heart transform. There sadly are only a handful of people who got to witness the supernatural change that happened in Maran. You now, have only seen her this side of Congo. God did something when we boarded that plane. He mended broken pieces, he stitched permanency in a heart, he whispered in her mind more than I could shout to her heart that we are going home, forever home. Before that plane ride one year ago today, she was a different child. And expectedly so, the hurt, the trauma, the confusion, she let it all out on me. Imagine you have never seen a white face before. Your whole world is black. Then you somehow lose your family, get put with a bunch of kids and with temporary "mamas", and then one day get taken to a different place and put in a white woman's arms. Adoption is nothing less than traumatic, scary, confusing in her eyes at that point. Someone told her in Lingala, this is your mama now. How crazy. Now she had to let this white woman wash her, feed her, bathe her. It is the depth of vulnerable we do not know. So for 4 weeks her confusion, manipulation, and survival kicked in. She tested my love, she pushed to see what a boundary was, she tried to make herself unlovable so she wouldn't have to deal with rejection again. And it pushed me to my breaking point, right to the arms of the only one who could handle all of it: Jesus. The statement "God won't give you more than you can handle" couldn't be farther from truth. I believe that is right where God wants us. 

Past the point of what we can handle and only at a spot where the miraculous has the meet up with reality. It did this day. Somehow Maran's heart changed as she silently boarded that plane. These are the last pictures I took in Congo. She was silent as we walked along a path and it was like she knew what was happening. We were leaving her country. 

Some people say "isn't it cruel to take a child from their culture",  I guess in a small way it is. She will not grow up like a Congolese child. She has ties yes, stories yes, but not life experience after the age of 4. Levi will remember nothing from Congo. But if you were given a choice of growing up in a home with 30 kids and 4 rotating workers sprinkled with a little cultural rituals vs. a family that where you were cared for, known and loved and pointed to Jesus, I think I go with the latter. I mourned for her this day though. This is not as it should be. Congo one day, I pray will have structures to support families to raise their kids. I pray businesses grow where people can make an honest living and feed their kids. I pray kids aren't hiding from gunfire, forced into sex slavery, sleeping on the streets, dying of a disease that costs 2$ to treat. The world is not as it should be. And come Jesus quickly because he sees his children suffering. He is the father to the fatherless. He sets the lonely in families. (Psalm 68:6)

We will go back one day. We pray for Congo and talk about it. We sometimes eat Congolese foods and sing Lingala songs. But it is no longer their home. Some of her memories from Congo are hard. Hunger, neglect, hurt, sadness, fear, guns, orphanage life, confusion. But many of her memories are there are good. Somehow God has shielded her heart and allowed her to mention and reflect on the hard memories and still have a love for her home country. What a gift he has given us in that. She asks to go to Africa regularly. And Africa will always have a piece of all of us that calls us back ever so often. 

One year ago today, we landed and walked down the corridor of the airport to friends and family. I have never wanted to explode with emotion like that day. Sheer exhaustion, the deep pain of missing my other kids finally relieved, the excitement to see a support group of believers who had prayed this into being, the reality that we are now a family of 6. It was a glorious day. It was the end of one journey and the beginning of the next.  

Thank you to you all who have supported us, prayed for us, counseled us, sacrificed for us, brought meals, watched children, laughed and cried with us over the last year. It hasn't been easy, but it has been good. I thank God for entrusting me these two treasures that I did not deserve. They are not lucky, they are not the "blessed ones". We are. I am. I am the changed one. I was the orphan. Now I see my home ahead of me and I have hope beyond hope. I will trade this world any day for heaven. Thank you Jesus for this indescribable gift. 

Let's talk about race....

I was honored to post this at Lil Light O Mine as a guest post today! 
Today I'm tackling a big one, a sensitive one, a hot button topic. Race. We are one generation removed from segragation, Two generations removed from "The help" and a few more removed from all out slavery.  I think our "forward thinking generation" thinks we are beyond the days of racism, slavery, and MLK. As a society we think just because we have a black president that shows that we are no longer a racist society.  But, just when we think we have jumped hurdles away from racism, Cheerios comes out with a commercial of a multi-racial family and it starts a viral vengeance of racist remarks. I wonder if we haven't really made very far at all. 

As parents we often take the route of color blindness.  We do not want to offend or call anyone the wrong descriptor. Instead of calling someone black or Asian, we choose the bypass the difference all together and pretend as if it doesn't exist. This approach only furthers racism by implying that there is something wrong with difference. 

It only took our African daughter three months to have enough English you say "why are you Yellow and I am purple mama?" She also told me that school they say she is sooo black. This is true, and I try to remind her that she is special and beautiful because of her skin and how she was knit together as a beautiful black girl and more importantly with a kind and loving heart. As moms, we need to arm our children with the correct vocabulary and with the perspective that different is good. Different is exactly how we were made, to reflect different aspects of God's creativity and personality. As we say in our family, "Wouldn't it be so boring we were all looked the same? God has painted us like a masterpiece of art with different colors and textures!" This perspective is broadened and generalized if we look at the world. If all I want to see if other versions of my self, then that is what I glorify.  But no, we need to celebrate and acknowledge differences. 

I was reminded of this in the mall the other day when Maran laid eyes on a lady in a wheelchair. I knew something was going to come out of her mouth that would make for an interesting conversation. Maran, riding in the stroller, shouts  "Look mom she gets to drive herself!" Maran noticed her difference and was celebrating what the woman could do and Maran could not in her current restraint.  An innocent comment from my child offended this woman greatly.  I racked my brain and explained quickly " isn't that cool, she's really incredible!" This did not at all mend it over with the woman, but I wanted to convey to my child the different is okay. Different is special and it only enhances the story that God wants to tell through us. 

Side note: the woman's reaction rattled me, after being shouted at about how I need to keep my children under control. Grace, Grace.

The other option I had in this situation was to quiet Maran very quickly, which would probably make Maran feel confused and horrible for saying something she didn't understand was "wrong". This would've implied to Maran that her disability was something to keep quiet, not ask about or discuss. Therefore making it off limits and taboo. This is not the approach we will take on our family. We will see our God-given differences as gifts. We will celebrate the beauty in Maran and Levi's dark skin. Reese is actually jealous about water slides right off them in the pool. Wheeler keeps asking me when he will be black too.  Maran laughs as she brushes her hands through Reese's straight hair. We will all take part in brushing and detangling Maran's hair and learn about how hair is all different. This has opened our children's eyes that difference is actually normal, it's not bad and it is not something to be quieted. Now we do still have to coach them in ways to talk about differences lovingly and in ways that do not put people down and make them feel like they are not special or accepted.

One day at school Reese noticed that they were making fun of a black boy in her class. She told me she immediately went over and sat down with him. Reese told me in the car, "I didn't understand what the big deal was about Trey, Morgan is different because her front teeth are gone and Mallory is different because she has bangs." I want to continue to show our kids that differences are awesome, they are not something to ostracize. We can remark on God's creation because after all he showed off all he's got. 

So I say bravo to Cheerios for trying to make normal a family who don't look all the same. It's so sad and unfortunate that it had the backlash it did. That only shows the darkness of our hearts around racism still. So lets bring it in the light. Lets make it a daily or weekly discussion withour kids. 
Some great kids books are "The skin you live in", "We are different, we are the same" and "Chocolate me". There are tons more, but these are some of our favorites. 

My daughter and son are black and beautiful. My other daughter and son are fair and a beautiful blend of peach and cream. God made them all exactly how he wanted them, reflecting his image and beauty. 
Moms lets talk with our kids and not be color blind.

This may be an ongoing conversation about how God makes people all different, different colors, shapes, sizes, abilities. It may be a conversation about how families can look different, moms and dads may be different colors, moms and their kids may not look the same. It may be a conversation about orphans and how millions of children grow up in orphanages with maybe 1 meal a day, no mommy and daddy to love them and teach them. And how some families get involved in caring and adopting orphans and making them sons and daughters. You tailor it to your passions and use your wisdom to keep this as an open conversation between you and your kids. Evaluate your friend group and what that says to your children about race and socioeconomic status. Just be proactive on what we are not only teaching our kids, but displaying for them as well. 

I spoke with one of my dear friends who is Congolese and married to an American woman with a beautiful son. They are such a source of encouragement and wisdom for us. He said it this way.

"For me, it boils down to a person's ability to find comfort and pride in their identity within this unfair ignorant world of prejudice and racism in both their opened and disguised forms.

I am proud to be black, I am proud to be from Congo, I am proud to be different, I know where I come from and I know that I am important in God's eye. That's what matters."

Oh Sweet Jesus please give that perspective to my children!

A few Playground examples from my experience....

Kid: Wow mom she's really black.

Mom: (frantic and panicked and trying to remain cool) shh son, she is just a regular little girl!

Kid: How is that your son because he is brown?

Dad: Pretends to not hear as panic strikes his face.

John: Yep, isn't that cool? That is just how God made him! We look different but we are still a family!

Kid: I don't like you because your black.

Other mom: Are those your kids or are you watching them?
Me: They're mine!
Other mom: Are they 'real' brothers and sisters?

Other mom to me (as my kids are playing chase): "Did you adopt hoping for athletes? Like that movie the Blindside?"

Kid at school: You're not pretty because you're brown, like poo poo.

Maran: Jesus made me pretty. Me brown like chocolate.

(This was her story she told me after pickup one day, way to go sista)

How different could some of these conversations have been if their parents had prepared them that people and families all look different and come in many shapes, sizes and colors. That a family is not only a group of people that look alike, but that are committed to love each other and live together and stick up for each other. We have had to have extra conversations with Reese and Wheeler as we bring the kids to their school functions. They get a lot of questions and they will continue to as they get into middle and high school. Right now it is mostly just confusion, comments like "How is That your brother? what?" So we have had to prepare them to answer these questions. One of their jobs in the family is to defend each other, that is what we do in our family. We stand for honesty and we do it with courage and grace. But we will address it kindly and matter of factly. If we choose the route of colorblind and choose to ignore that color exists, we only prolong racism in a different form. 

I am no expert on all of this, just a mom of a transracial family figuring it out as I go. I have a long way to go to teach my daughter and son how to be a proud black woman and a proud black man, something I have never experienced. It will be a challenge to help them navigate prejudices, stereotypes, and choices friends or future dating partners make because of the color of their skin.  I will have to reach out to awesome black mentors in their life to drive home these truths. I will have a lot of research to do, maybe some family counseling as identities become confusing, and that is ok. That is the journey we are on. And it is a hard and beautiful one!

If you want more reading and additional age appropriate books, Rage against the minivan did a great blog on it here.

I am praying for each of you as you navigate and pave this road for your family. 

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, 

Only God...A mini-story of blessing and provision part 2

Oh my goodness. I am literally speechless about what God did today. Ok, well I guess my speechlessness is over because I actually have a lot to say about it.  This journey I knew would be full of twists and turns, battles and failures, obstacles and victories.  Today was all of the above.
I dropped the kids off at school today and ran to get coffee with a girl I am mentoring (yes, scary thought, i know, you can be praying I actually can continue pointing her to the Lord and not any wisdom from myself!).
Then I had 2 hours before I picked up Wheeler from school.  Now here is my thought process. I have 4 days with Wheeler in preschool before I leave for Congo. I have a long to do list but since I had just met with this girl, I thought, I should really go home and get in the word (contrary to all of my to-do list urgencies I felt). So I get home and I am a little ADD. Wanting to make my bed, clean up breakfast, organize a closet, anything. But I kept feeling the call to sit. So I sat in my new rocking chair that I got to rock my new babies in and picked up where I left off in John 15.

⁷ If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. ⁸ This is to my Father’s glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples.

⁹ “As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love. ¹⁰ If you keep my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commands and remain in his love. ¹¹ I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete. 

Then, I felt an urge to go look at my adoption notebook. This thing is a beast full of all of my paperwork. It is organized to a T and everything is in plastic sheet protectors in the correct divider. I had just added last night the final paperwork I need to it before I travel.
I'll let you in on the following thought process of mine.

"Go look in your notebook. Why do I need to look in that binder? Kylie, focus, you are supposed to be reading! Go look in your notebook. NO what in the world, why can I not focus on reading!
Go look in the notebook. God, is that you or me talking?
"Ding"
Text from an Atlanta friend Katie

Go look in the notebook.
OK Jeez. I'll check my notebook!

Then I flip it open right to the page of our US immigration approval and my heart literally stopped and I thought I was going to throw up.
Why had I not remembered? What on earth was I thinking? Way back in the adoption process when we applied for US immigration approval (i600a) we had to set an age range we were hoping to adopt for our homestudy. With my little knowledge I put down 1-3 year old boy or girl. Now in the Lord's provision alone we were matched with an almost 1 year old boy and 3.5 year old girl. Talk about the Lord honoring that request! But now our adoption was finalized and we are 1 1/2 weeks away from flying to DRCongo to make these kids ours and US citizens. Filing in country what is called an i600. Well, about 5 weeks ago we had to select the kids birthdays since they are unknown. We chose Sept 17th for Maran, this coming monday, 1 week before we travel. Therefore, when I arrive in Congo Maran will be 4, not 3, therefore falling outside of the range the US has approved us to immigrate into the states. We would get there and be denied to take Maran home due to the age on this document.
Insert cry of desperation.
I hit my knees instantly. I knew what this meant. Either we don't travel until the document is changed (quite a process) or if we were to arrive in DRC they would not let Maran come home with us. I cried out to God like never before. This is the kind of trials we will encounter. This is the kind of opposition we will meet to bring these kids home. These are the things Satan will use to keep these kids out of a house that is under the banner of Jesus Christ.
I emailed my facilitator and prayed more. "God, do something. Bring home my daughter! I will submit to your will not mine, but I am begging you!"
I then called US Center for Immigration. As the phone was ringing, I was repeating, Jesus, you have to move this mountain, I believe you will, but you have to move this mountain. I am claiming what I just read in John 15, I am remaining and resting in you and in your word and this is what I ask. Move this mountain.
"Hello?" she said. I told her my predicament and she looked up my case to see who my officer was to see how big his caseload is if he can get to it or not (keep in mind, on our Congo facebook group of other moms everyone is saying USCIS is at an all time slow down in response time and approvals and edits). "Oh no, ma'am! Your case officer is no longer working here." Umm what do I do. She said "here is what I will do, I will request to be put on your case, get your home study changed and overnight me the home study update and I will change it in the system within 2 business days, hopefully before your travel."
Mountain is starting to move.
This process usually takes weeks. The process is getting one caseworker here to update my 30 page document, getting it notarized, mailing it in to USCIS for approval, waiting on approval and edits and updates which can take weeks. This sweet angel of God is going to move mountains to have it done in a day or two.
Next mountain to move, my home study case worker. I called her. She had told me in the beginning the updating process can take 2 weeks to be finished. I told her my story. "Oh Kylie! My goodness, I will have it done this afternoon or at the latest first thing in the morning."
Mountain Moved.

You see, for those of you that have faithfully joined us in prayer, prayer is not throwing things up to the ceiling and hoping it is heard or just thinking nice thoughts about us or our children/adoption.  Prayer is the vehicle God uses to pour out his power on a situation. God did not have to move in that situation. He could have told us to wait and we would still be here next week filing paperwork and waiting yet again.  But I truly believe 1 Peter 3:12- For the eyes of the Lord are on the righteous and his ears are attentive to their prayer.
We are the BODY of Christ. God uses the picture of the body, as I've said in a previous post, for a special reason. If we have an itch, our entire body is involved in the process. Our left arm senses the itch, it sends a message to our brain, the brain sends a message to our right arm, hand and fingers to go scratch it. God uses our BODY to solve it, our brain could just send a message for the sensation to go away but no, it uses another member getting involved. Same way in the body of Christ. I truly believe God is using your prayers, my prayers, our children's prayers, to unleash power where he may not have previously. He is turning his face and his ears to our situation and you are part of the reason. I am so thankful for Katie hearing from the Lord this morning, for sending me that encouraging text. I truly believe God put our situation on her heart this morning because he wanted to show Himself. There was glory to be revealed. 1 Peter 4:13- But rejoice that you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed.

It is not just Katie, I have gotten text after text, email after email, comment on the blog and facebook, of people praying all over the nation! Thank you seems like such a small word to offer for such a gift. It is more effective and more appreciated than any dollar amount you could ever donate or offer for our adoption. It is a mountain mover, a waving flag to say GOD LOOK, OVER HERE, DO BIG THINGS GOD!!

I plead that you keep praying with and for us. For our children. For the paperwork to come in as it is promised. For our travel, for the time we are in country. This is not the first obstacle we face nor the biggest. There will be some that we do not find victory over so quickly like today and I will rest and trust in the one who holds this process and loves these children more than I ever could. I will trust in the defender of the orphan and the fighter for the fatherless.

Matthew 17:20
Because you have so little faith. I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, "Move from here to there" and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.

To you alone Lord,

Only God (a mini-story of blessing and provision)

Only God could answer a prayer I wasn't even bold enough to pray!
Ok this story starts a few months ago. My mom was speaking at her church and mentioned her daughter is adopting from Congo. Someone came up to her afterwards and said they had a guy in their small group that just moved away that was from there, so they passed along his contact info to my mom.  I emailed him back 4-6 months ago and he was so kind and genuinely wanted to help or answer any questions. He offered that his family still lives there and they could go by and check on the kids if we needed. A few more weeks went by and our communication was there but infrequent until we got our referral and then he realized my full name and asked if we had any relationship to WinShape (Chick-fil-A) because they had won a marriage weekend at their church in Atlanta from this couple with our names! Back story, my best friend works for this church and asked if I could help her think of a raffle idea and so John and I donated a marriage retreat weekend at WinShape Marriage. Out of hundreds of couples, this couple won it!
Fast forward again, this couple is moving to DC and we got to have them to our house (uhaul and all:) on their travel to DC. We were instant friends, our kids loved their child, I connected immediately with his sweet wife. This couple has offered us beyond anything I would have ever known how to pray: a place to stay in Congo if needed, a family member who is a doctor if we need anything medically while we are there, family members to pick us up at airport, an aunt who is a tailor and could help us pick some fabric and make this kids some african shirts, etc. I mean, ONLY GOD. Then, this sweet angel with skin on changed his flight to DRC to get onto our flight to alleviate any fears/confusion on flying into Congo and getting through the airport (which I hear can be quite the fiasco). Not to mention this gentle man is pushing nearly 7 feet tall (doesn't hurt :)
I am seriously continuously blown away by the way God is knitting this story together. A story we will tell our children and say "Look what God did here, and the way he provided here, and here! What a faithful God". Oh my goodness. I am just so amazed by this couple's kindness and generosity. It is truly a picture of Jesus!
I am so beyond thankful God answered a prayer bigger than I could have ever articulated. I know this is the first of many things he will tap me on the shoulder and shout in my face, "Did you think I'd abandon you on our mission? Did you have any reason to doubt I'd come through?"

adopted

This last week or two was quite a spiritual journey for me! I can't imagine what it was like for my dear friend who was actually in the middle of it.  It was such a hard but awesome journey for me to experience God in a different way as I prayed more deeply than ever before. I have never felt emotionally exhausted after praying and it gave me a small glimmer into what gethsemane was like for Jesus. I can't remember i time being so involved (mind, body, heart, soul, emotions) in prayer and petitioning God, begging God, screaming at God, crying to God for Him to hear and change a situation.  What am amazing illustration God gave me this week watching this unfold. What an example about fighting for the redemption of his child and longing to adopt us into his family just as this couple has fought for an opportunity to bring this child into their family to buy her at a high price (not just financially) and to journey with her because she is worth adopting into an amazing family far greater than she was given or could have chosen on her own. What a beautiful redemption story. I am so so thankful for a God who longs to adopt us, who longs for us to choose Him back, who longs for the day when we are finally his and then finally face to face with Him. Not because he lacks anything without us, but just because he is Love.  What a picture of what God did at the cross too. Not only does he love his children beyond any love we could experience in the smallest fraction, but his prize, his son, he watched tortured for a people who didn't love him, but He longed to adopt. That is a high price to pay for our adoption.  So through this process, i have really grasped my own adoption into Christ and as well as the ransom paid for me, the earnest love he pours over me, and the urgency to tell others about the amazing family that awaits them. I need to live in that reality a little bit deeper so I can really grasp the pure blessing God has given me in just giving me himself. Blessings or not, He has already given me all i need in Him. I need nothing else than the Father who has fought for me, waited for me, pursued me, and bought me at the highest price, then rejoiced when I chose Him back. I want nothing more than Him, and I may need him to remind me of that, but what a beautiful fulfillment of scripture in 1Pet 3 that glory WILL be revealed in suffering. And perseverance produces growth and revelation. 

humbled..

The last few days the lord has really humbled me. Over the course of a series of events, God has really spoken to me about how loosely i use and understand the term blessing.
First, A friend of a friend (also a person on staff at the church we go to) his wife went into preterm labor with their first child (they have 2 adopted) and he only lived 24 hours.  They had already picked out his name (Chai hebrew for "alive") and i just received updates as things were happening and had such a burden on my heart to pray for them. I prayed a lot of that day and when i heard that Chai died, i was sadder than I thought I would be over a baby of a couple i didn't even know.  But God really used that to draw me to himself and reveal a little more of his character.  One of the things the dad said was that they hoped his name had meaning to pull him through this hard time, that he could stay alive and push through, but after he passed he realized God cared more about him being fully alive in him instead of on this earth.  The faith of this couple throughout this process has been incredible. I have enjoyed following their blog lately and just hearing the father speak to these hurting people.  God is truly close to the broken hearted because if ever a time to turn and doubt, they are running that much harder to God.
Next, I was really emotionally effected all week by my dear friend who has been in the adoption process almost 2 years now.  They finally got selected for a baby and then a few days out from the due date heard that paperwork stuff was falling through.  It really got me down and i just felt in a funk for a few days. (I know that sounds selfish because i can't imagine what she was going through if it was effecting me like this!).
Then sunday at church, the pastor said something about how flippantly we use the name of God. How we don't understand the power it holds when we throw it around without tagging along the weight and glory that come with it. Then it was like God was tapping on my shoulder... You do the same thing about my blessing. Now going back a few months, God has really been teaching me a lot about blessings and really getting my heart prepared for what he has to reveal. I have never felt at a place so content, so "not-wanting" for much other than him before yet in my faith. But even still, I just began to realize this weekend how flippantly i have said Thanks for our blessings and taught our kids to say "thank you God for all our blessings... Jesus, family, friends, house," the list goes on and on. For me this weekend I have just thought about the blessing God has given me in our marriage and our kids. The way i live my life and speak some times, i am basically just treating those blessings as if they don't have the weight they do. I do not understand why God blessed us with 2 healthy wonderful kids. Neither of which we struggled to conceive (just the opposite actually) nor struggled with health issues (i don't really even count wheeler's ear issues when i think about the struggles others have). Yet i totally complained through pregnancy, felt like i wouldnt survive some days with two babies at home, and even still, nitpick over how hard my day was with two kids in the throngs of toddlerhood. How humbling to think about God looking at me wondering is this what you have to say about my blessing? Now granted, life isnt rosy rosy and the kids will always test my patience and it will be a challenge raising them until they are out of the house and beyond, but my perspective needs to continually shift.  With a heart that understands the weightiness of the blessing i have been giving, there is less room for petty complaining... when i really grasp what the Lord has given and can take away at any moment, it dissipates the frustration over the silly stuff i am dealing with. I look back over my life and i can't really find huge problems or major disasters or trauma or devastation.  The closest i have come to that is losing Drew. And i ask God, why me? Why so many blessings. I empathize with these other people who are going through this heavy stuff and leaning on the Lord so strongly.  But yet, I don't grasp the full weigh of what God has done in my life. I know this is all rambling and it is just where i am right now as i process, but all this to say.. I want to really understand each day the blessing God has put in my life, and not treat it flippantly or with entitlement or just a "that's the way it is" attitude.  I have no no idea the scale God loves me. I feel very small and I like being in that place with God. I pray he reminds me of it minute by minute and prepares me to love on others as they walk their journey. I know there will be a place in mine where I will be at a crossroads and will need that person to lean on. Sorry for all the ramblings... I'll continue to flesh out what the Lord is teaching me over time.  I am thankful that he speaks.
In following up, i am praying hard has my dear friend got an amazing God moment call that the paperwork went through and heard this right before the baby was being delivered so she is out in las vegas now picking up a baby hopefully in the next few hours. I am praying hard that details line up smoothly, for the health of the baby and the mothers substance abuse not to have hurt the child. I am praying for their hearts as parents that God is preparing them to take on his child and bring her into their family just as God has adopted us into his. Praise Jesus!

A year of hurt and growth

One year and 5 days ago I got a call from drew that he was headed to the hospital to be seen if he could test this drug they are seeing if it cures Cystic Fibrosis::  Drew and i had been friends for 12 years. He was born with Cystic Fibrosis, but unless you knew drew really well, or asked why he coughs all the time, you would have never known he had it.  He just lived almost as if it didn't affect him even if you knew it really did.  Drew and I went to high school and youth group/church together.  Drew taught me to play the guitar (although i was a slow learner) we sang together, worshipped the Lord together, ate lunch together at the cafeteria table, and hung out on many a weekend playing hide and seek in the car with walkie talkies or discussing theology at waffle house.  Drew was a dear dear friend::
So drew calls and asks if i can come get his car from the UNC hospital parking lot. I brought him the usual... a chick-fil-a dinner and chocolate milkshake, his unsaid request whenever he was pent up at UNC getting tests run or in for a procedure for his lungs. I sat in his room that tuesday night and we chatted about marriage, family, sex trafficking, God, this potential cure for CF, Piper (our great dane that is now Drew and Cheryl's), etc.  Drew was seemingly 100% normal drew.  I told him i'd take the car and he laughed about how there were oxygen tanks in the front seat and i was asking if i was going to blow his car up if i parked it in the 90 degree heat we were having in may. We laughed, I showed him some good movies to watch on netflix and left him my computer for the next few supposedly boring days in the hospital for testing to see if he could get on the list for this test drug. Then I left, said i loved him and I'd come by in a day or two.
I got the call that wednesday night that my sister had gone by to see him and while she was there he had started coughing up blood and they were going to go in and cauterize some vessels in his lungs to stop the bleeding. He had this procedure done before so I was a little worried but not terrible. Then i got another call wednesday night that felt very different. They hadnt gotten all the bleeding and had taken him back again for another surgery to stop it.  I can't recall all the details but either the 2nd or third cauterization he did not wake up from. They put him on a ventilator that night and we never met eyes again.  The next few days were a blur of hospital visits, holding his hand, praying over him, reading him scripture, and just sitting with friends in the waiting room talking about how he was going to pull through this.  Things got progressively worse, his body became septic, the did dialysis, then the neurologist gave the news that he had had several strokes, and if he woke up quality of life was uncertain. This was the moment that the air went out of me. Hope had left, miracle was the only thing that couldve happened, but the doctors assured this was not probable.  I remember vividly the saturday that all the news really hit and decisions were having to be made, Drew had not wanted to live this was and we all knew.  John and I headed to the hospital saturday, the 18th of May, and the waiting room was very quiet. I would say 20 or so people had gathered and come and gone over the last 5 days. I remember Mitch, a mutual friend and drew's best friend, coming down the hall with tears in his eyes, saying "you might want to come back".  About 8 of us stood in the room and held onto drew and watched as his heart monitor dropped, plateaued, and dropped again until he left his body to be with the Lord.
It is the most surreal moment as a Christian I have yet had. The intense sadness and grief that struck as his wife of almost 4 years hugged her husband and cried over him, as his dad and mom laid on the side of his bed kissing him and saying No, No. I held drew as he gave up his body and went to see Jesus' face.  Drew was a modern day paul.  I know many of conversations we had where drew would laugh about how dying is gain and he was going to have an awesome glorified body in heaven with no coughing and huge muscles (CF prevents weight gain to a certain extent). I was overjoyed and crushed to the core in the same moment.
I can't believe it has been a year since Drew went to be with the Lord. He was 26 years old and died a few days before his 4 year wedding anniversary. He was one of the most passionate people chasing after truth and selfless people i have known.  He never acted as a victim of CF even though his treatments had increased to several hours a day and frequent hospital visits.  You would have never known he had a terminal illness. The only time i learned it was terminal was in AP Biology class when he wouldnt help me with our class project and I was all stressed and I kept asking if he even cared about his grade and he laughed and joked that his life expectancy was 27, an AP bio grade probably didn't matter. I had no idea, we had been friends for 2 years by then and he had never said CF was terminal. He thought this was funny, but was convinced without a doubt he would beat this thing and they'd find a cure.
Over the last year I have had a hard hard journey of hurt, confusion, struggle, grief, anger and peace.  God has taught me several things through losing drew.  My biggest lessons have been God is sovereign and his timing is perfect. This was a hard lesson to come to. God works for the good who love him. I had to cling to this one because it is hard to see in the midst of this. I learned that sometimes glory is at stake... 1 peter 4  says “Dear friends, don’t be surprised at the fiery trials you are going through, as if something strange were happening to you. Instead be very glad= for these trials make you partners with Christ, in his suffering so that you will have the wonderful joy of seeing his glory when it is revealed to all the world. Glory will be revealed in suffering. Ecclesiastes 3: 11 says He has made everything beautiful in its time.  He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.”   I dont fully understand why drew had CF, why he died right before he was beginning seminary, why i lost a dear dear friend. All i can do is trust that I serve a big God, a tender father who would want the best for his child. Drew is where he wants to be. Today I am thankful for being a part of drew's life and having him in mine. He taught me innumerable lessons about the Lord, his lavish love, and who i am in Christ. I pray God brings glory after glory still through Drew's death. I know Drew is enjoying himself with his big muscles and no more pills and vest to wear to shake mucous out of his lungs. I miss him deeply still. Going home doesn't really feel like going home, our old church still feels empty to me, and holidays without meeting at the waffle house are hard. I miss his witty comments, his "ladies man" interpretation, and just the fun he brought to the group. I still hurt for his wife, I still think about him several times a week. I wouldnt trade the time I had with him and I thank God that He drew me close in this time of pain instead of turned his face and stayed quiet. I have found contentment I thought i'd never have, i have found enjoyment in Him i never thought i'd have, and worshipping is a whole new experience as I picture drew singing his new lungs out at the foot of Jesus.