Reflections of Purpose

The Most Precious Gifts...

2011-11-30T18:33:00.001-08:00

Many of you may know, five years ago we heard about a very ill baby who needed a family. Chenchen had lived most of her life in a palliative care unit in China because she was born with a liver disease that if left untreated, would kill her before her second birthday. When we heard about her, we instantly knew she was meant to be ours. Now, 4 years later, this warm, funny, gentle-hearted, and humble little soul, who we named Sarah, thrives on hugs, kisses, and cuddles, and whose kindness and care for others goes well beyond her six years. we often think back to the doubts, questions and emotions we had during her adoption and think, what joy and laughter and love we would have missed had we turned her away.

Sarah has gone from seeing the doctor’s once every 3-6 months now going once a month for scoping and ultrasounds. Her doctors tell us her condition has advanced and a transplant may be in her near future. Our hearts ache when we think about the days that lay ahead for her and so, we ask you to remember Sarah in your prayers.

Sarah prays a good bit herself actually. We learn a lot by listening to her pray. Very regularly, for the past three years, she has prayed that God would give her siblings. Interesting enough, a month ago, we learned of two other babies who mirror Sarah’s story. They both have the same liver condition as Sarah and both are with the same extraordinary non-profit, New Hope, who cared for Sarah during her first year of life). It was impossible for us to adopt the children as we no longer met the requirements, however, we felt led to offer our help, hoping somehow, we could connect them to doctors who could stabilize them until they could be adopted.

Now, we should have learned a long time ago that “impossible” is a non-issue for God. Impossible becomes nothing more than a vapor when it stands in the midst God’s love and compassion for orphans.

So, long story short – we are adopting these babies! We were cleared just this past week by both our Home Study and Adoption Agencies. It may be anywhere from 6-12 months before we bring them home, but a handsome baby boy AND another precious baby girl are on their way! Yes – you heard that right: TWO!!!!

And so, we are asking that you join us – march onto the battlefield of prayer with us! Due to the complexity and the speed at which the whole situation is moving, we are asking for His leading, guidance, wisdom, discernment, clarity, provision and protection over our family. We have $50k worth of adoption expenses to raise ($25k for each baby), 10-12 months of paperwork to cram in as quickly as we can do it, coordinating with two agencies and upwards of 10 people, and most importantly, the increasing criticalness of Sarah’s condition as well as the babies themselves.

Before we let you go, there is one more thing we would like you to pray about…

Directly after we committed to adopting these two little ones, two more with the same liver condition were delivered to New Hope within days of each other; a baby girl and a baby boy. It is an extremely rare thing to receive two children with this condition at the same time, but four is – unbelievably extraordinary. Many people might want to see this in a negative light, but we are choosing to believe God’s promises – that He loves these children – and for some reason, He has gathered and maneuvered them to New Hope for a reason. We believe there is a family out there, amongst our family or friends or acquaintances (or amongst yours!) whose heart is being prepared specifically for these little ones – it’s just a matter of finding them.

So, as completely out-of-the-question as this may be, we are asking you to take these children before the Lord and ask Him in earnest if either (or both) of these babies are meant for you. He will either etch these children into your memory so deeply you cannot forget them, or…He won’t. We hope you will take a leap of faith, and help us spread the word. We know what we are asking may be uncomfortable, and we don't ask for your help lightly, but for these little ones, it may be their only chance at living.

To wrap things up, throughout the last five years, we’ve gone through some rough spots. We may not be well off, or hold high powered jobs, or buy fancy clothes - things may not be easy - but God continues to bless us with things far better than material happiness. We would have never known the love and tenderness Sarah brings to our daily lives had we overlooked her or considered her adoption as “something other people do.” And don’t rule out the impossible! Many times the impossible is where you get to see God work His miracles! Let's step out in faith - being open and willing to give Him our whole life, whether it's through adoption or not, by trusting Him with everything we have. Because that is what true and authentic faith is - the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. (Hebrews 11)

Thank you so much for reading this ridiculously long post. From our hearts to yours, we hope you have a wonderful Christmas! May the Lord richly bless you and your family with the most precious of all gifts: Faith. Hope. And the greatest of these…Love.

What Do You Really Want for Christmas?

2011-11-28T18:43:00.000-08:00

For Anyone Who Wonders Why...

2011-11-27T23:35:00.000-08:00

My Own Little World

2010-10-22T14:05:00.000-07:00

Remember to turn off the music at the bottom on the page!

What Do We Really Need?

2010-09-09T21:32:00.000-07:00

So as I sat there on that cold bench, after offering her my untouched and still warm dinner, and began to talk with her about why she claimed to be "broke and homeless." After five minutes of listening, I realized, not all beggars are beggars and not all people who say they are in desperate need, are in desperate need.

For being so skeptical of people, at times I let my guard down and can be either extremely gullible or substantially naive. People just floor me from time to time. Although naive and gullible are neck and neck on most days, on this particular day, I have to say, my hope to see the best in mankind (despite her obvious and unfortunate circumstances) got the best of me.

Anyhow - it was drizzling and I was snugly-bugly safe in my car on my way back to work with bag of McHeartattack or something…

I saw her sitting all by her lonesome, there on the corner with her homemade cardboard sign which declared in bold, black letters, "Broke. Homeless. Need Help." I thought to myself, "It's just not right that there is actually someone in America that is broke and homeless." And at that point, because I had already filled my do-good-things-so-you-can-feel-better-about-yourself quota, I summarily passed her by. (Oh! Like YOU'VE never done that!)

Long story short - I had a 30 second argument with God where I told Him I really needed my McGreasy cheeseburger. I needed my fat-loaded french fries and my give-you-a-quick-burst-of-fake-energy-right-before-it-makes-you-crash soda pop. How else was I going to survive through the next few hours without my bi-monthly dose of super nutritional, highly vitamin fortified fast food? For some reason, I didn't think God viewed it quite that way, so I begrudgingly turned the car around and parked in an adjacent lot not too far away. As I hopped out, I grabbed my McLardo sandwich and drink, walked on over and plopped down on the bench next to her.

She was a big gal – like me, she didn’t appear to have issues foraging for food, but for the most part, I really tried to be non-judgmental, after all, who would want to endure the rain and cold and wet, just to beg for spare change? So, I decided to listen. At first I was sympathetic, tried hard to be objective, but the more she spoke, the more I realized her sign and her story were two very different things.

The real kicker came when I offered her my dinner. For a split second, there flashed over her face such a look of unenthusiastic disgruntledness, that I instantly felt the way one does after asking a child to eat all their lima beans. It was then the 7-watt light bulb in my noggin finally lit-up. At that point, she knew her scam was up and she basically proceeded to tell me she wasn't "broke" after all. Turns out, she wasn't really homeless either. Not that I wanted her to be destitute, but once I learned her "real" story, something happened to the once strong sense of sympathy I had for this woman. In an instant, it became almost non-existent. Poof! Like a little discombobulated cough of smoke, I sputtered and spun in a somewhat confused and disbelieving state, my compassion having taken the first exit off the highway of gullibility: she was a fake and both of us knew it.

Needless to say, after that, the conversion turned extremely uncomfortable (she had my dinner...she wasn't broke...she had my dinner...she wasn't homeless...have I mentioned she had my dinner?) and it became quickly apparent, she didn't want the kind of help I was offering, so after a while, I politely disengaged from the conversation and meandered on back to my car where I sat for a few minutes, not quite sure how I felt about all that had just transpired.

Now, I'll be the first one to admit I shouldn't be judging this poor soul. Obviously, regardless of the reasons why she was sitting there, or whether it was culturally responsible for her to be sitting there, is really beside the point. She obviously thought she was in need of what she was asking for.

It did set me to thinking though: why do almost all Americans act like this lady, at least in some way or another? Why do we all feel we need things when what we really need a good smack in the back of the head to remind us why we should choose to use that word in a more careful manner. I need the Vera Wang dress. I need the EX model. I need my Starbucks. I need my Xbox 360 Elite Gaming Console with 120GB hard drive. I mean, do we really need what we say we need? I saw a guy off the 91 the other day who was holding a sign that said, "Why lie? I need a drink." and the crazy thing was, a whole stream of obviously brilliant people were actually giving him money!

Do we really need what we think we need? When I take a look at my faith and what I’m supposed to be all about – am I really supposed to be needing what I think I’m needing? I often wonder if I'm more like that lady than I think I am. I hold up my "help me" sign knowing God is watching, when in reality, I wonder if He’s putting His head in His hands and thinking, "My dear, you just…don’t…get it."

Several years ago, I overheard my Pastor say that God doesn't want us comfortable. He said, if we were in a place where we were comfortable, we were probably in a place where we’ve become complacent, apathetic, stagnate and otherwise incapacitated in terms of authentic kingdom living. He said God’s plan isn’t to make us happy – His plan is to help us grow.

Shortly after hearing that, "uncomfortable" started happening in every area of my life. (Thanks a lot Pastor Cork.) At the time, it felt more like "unbearable" rather than merely uncomfortable and I can honestly say, I just plain hated it. I threw fits. I threw tantrums. I even threw a chicken (to all my PETA friends, don't worry, it was ceramic). I was angry…really, really angry. And each time I went to have a throw-down with God, those little annoying words would come back to me: God doesn't want you comfortable Kim - He wants you growing.

Flash forward six or seven years. Thankfully, I no longer throw anything (especially chickens) with the exception of an occasional dinner party here and there - and in many things, I am now ok with conforming to "uncomfortable." Most times, I don't enjoy it. Most times it's hard to do. Most times it doesn't leave me with a whole lot of warm-fuzzies. But I can say this: I am able to find comfort in being uncomfortable now. God has changed the way I look at things.

So what do we really need? If we call Jesus Savior and King, then reality is, we don't need much more than Him. But are we willing to live that way, really authentically live that way? And if we can't or aren't willing to do that, what kind of faith do we really have? I don't know about you, but it's hard to take a step back and be deliberate about not keeping up with the Jones... but it's even more difficult for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle - I just hope I'm not on that end of the equation.

Friends Church - New Orphan Care Ministry!

2009-12-18T22:43:00.000-08:00

Can you believe we’re only a week away from Christmas? WOW! For many of us, that means we’re not only one week away from officially celebrating the birth of Christ, but secondarily, we’re also one week away from yummy goodies, lots of neat new stuff to play with, while being surrounded by the warmth and love of our families and friends.

With that in mind, I’d like to take the time to invite you to an event taking place on January 30, 2010 at 4pm, in an effort to aid children who won’t be experiencing that this Christmas: the world’s 132 million orphans. A huge number, over 100,000 of those children live here in the United States, and this year they will be missing the love of a family with little to no celebration of Christ during Christmas coupled with a lack of hope for the New Year.

But this doesn’t have to be reality for these children, not when we, the body of Christ can unify and be moved into action! And so, as you continue to celebrate through this holiday season, please consider joining us for this very special evening, an evening filled with hope and inspiration as we consider God’s call for all authentic Christ-followers: James 1:27.

Friends Orphan Care Ministry – Informational Event
Saturday, January 30th, 2010 at 4:00 PM to 5:45 PM
Worship Center, Room 317

It’s going to be a great evening, you can register or find out more about this event by clicking here.

What Do You Want for Christmas?

2009-12-02T23:30:00.000-08:00

The Treasure of Jesus

2009-11-28T16:07:00.000-08:00

Happy Turkey Day!

2009-11-26T19:37:00.000-08:00

I am a huge fan of the Swedish Chef - although, after viewing this particular episode, I felt a bit sick to my stomach. I don't remember the Chef being quite this... this... controversial! At any rate - this is one turkey I was glad to see get away!!! Go turkey!!!!

Change an Orphans World

2009-11-16T22:09:00.001-08:00

A beautiful 3+ minute video about how you can make a difference, one child at a time.

(Remember to turn off the music at the bottom of the page first.)

Everything...

2009-09-28T21:29:00.000-07:00

Remember to turn the sound off to the music player at the bottom of the page first!

The following video is a visual testament to the beauty of Who Christ is, and what He did for each and every one of us.

Horse Poop

2009-09-26T15:02:00.001-07:00

When I was a a teen, my family used to own horses. We had one horse in particular who didn't like me too much and unfortunately for me, I discovered this out only after I wound up in horse poop one day.

You see, this horse, unbeknownst to me at the time, had a thing with women. How do I know? That's silly... I know because he TOLD me. No, no... he didn't drum up a Mr. Ed impression. No, this horse, when you would turn your back to him, would pin his ears to his head and bob his noggin' up and down, like some cranky ol' lady chewing bubble gum with a bad set of dentures. And me, being the rocket scientist I am, didn't put two and two together, until it was too late.

So here I was, on a beautiful summer day, minding my own business, painting the broadside of our barn. I was standing about four rungs up on a ladder that was situated close to a divider that separated one corral from another. I had put Doc (my horse) out to the arena, so I could paint without him in the way, but never thought much about my dad's horse, Skip, as he was seemingly minding his own business in the neighboring corral, about 15 feet away from me.

And so, I painted and painted and painted. Occasionally, I would glance over my shoulder to see what Skip was doing - he seemed perfectly disinterested and half asleep most of the time and so, I'd go back to work. I did notice that each time I looked over my shoulder, the horse, although looking rather indifferent and unimpressed with what I was doing, was a bit closer to me each time.

And so, I continued to paint. I carried on this way for at least an hour until I finally heard heavy - and fast - hoof prints coming up rapidly behind me. The next thing I knew, I was flying through the air, the ladder was toppling over, the paint bucket was spinning, and my tricep burned as if I had roasted it in a fire. When I landed, I immediately looked at Skip, who, with a flick of his tail and a quick little head-bob, rapidly pivoted and promptly started running for the hills. Unfortunately for Skip, the corral was only so big and still in my hand, was a freshly loaded paintbrush.

When the excitement was over and I had exacted my revenge, I turned to dust myself off and noticed one of my arms had landed in some horse poo - not too much mind you - but it was just enough that I smelled like... well... poop. Horse poop isn't too bad actually. I guess because it smells mostly like alfalfa and it just doesn't have the same odor as carnivore poop. So I casually wiped it off on my jeans and walked inside to nurse the 3-inch welt on my arm.

Now, the thing about horse poop is, although it doesn't smell that bad, and generally, it doesn't look that bad, it still contains some nasty stuff. When fresh, horse poo may attract or contains parasites, flies and other organisms that when ingested by the horse (many horse may graze on their own manure, especially those that stay in their stalls real often) may cause permanent damage. When left to accumulate and dry, it decomposes and turns into a dusty substance that fills the air with spores which can cause respiratory problems in a myriad of species.

But what does this have to do with anything? Why am I so stuck on horse poo?

Over the past couple weeks, I've had some heart experiences - some good... some not so good. Matter of fact, over the course of the past week, I've had one particularly encouraging moment and one particularly discouraging moment - both came from fellow brothers and sisters in Christ and both were about adoption.

One really hurt me and made my heart ache. The other was like sitting in a sun beam. One really spoke to me about the sad state of orphans and the complacent attitude toward them in the church. The other filled me with hope - not everyone in the church is turning a blind eye to their situation.

Being an adoptive mom is hard sometimes. Most people, including the vast majority of Christians, have a mind-set where adoption is viewed as something second rate... not as good as the biological original. Adoption is something only infertile couples do and then it's only because they don't have any other option. I've heard things like, "it must have been hard for you not to have carried your baby because you didn't have that time to bond" and "it must be very difficult knowing you didn't nurse your baby because that helps to create a strong tie early on" and the always and ever question, "doesn't it pain you that you don't have real children?"

I don't know about you, but this sounds like horse poop to me. Seriously. Haven't we all had the same "harmless" thoughts about adoption once or twice before? Thoughts that don't scare or alarm us like something blatantly yucky. We just don't really notice how bad they truly are because they are subtle. Kinda like horse poop!

Now, I know many of these types of questions are originated by good, well-meaning people. Most of them have been (or still are) personal friends of mine, some who also happen to be mature Christians. But what these people don't understand, is that, in these little seemingly harmless questions, there is something more. These questions pass a line of subtle and quiet judgement, pronounced not only on the barren, but on the fatherless as well. These questions insinuate that we - as orphans, adoptees, or adoptive parents - are damaged goods, only half-completed people walking around with the inability to truly bond with our parents/children because we just don't have the same DNA. The bond we have with our children is not as strong as a biological bond because we didn't have the opportunity to physically birth, nurse or pass on our own genetic material. The love we share is not as pure or as great because our biological make-up is not the same; it's some form of thrift-store love that people go to get after it's been worn and discarded by someone else.

Horse poop.

Adoption, although not mainstream or important to the secular public, should be to the body of Christ. What's more, we, as Christians, should view adopted children and families the same way we view biological children and families - because that is how God views His adoption of us. Adoption is the very picture and example God set for us by sending Christ to us. If we don't feel adoption (both heavenly or earthly) is important and just as valid, then whoa-boy, our theological perspective has some serious holes. If we, as Christians, can't see beyond the "glory" of reproducing our own genetic material, then we'll contineu to totally miss the point and millions of children/non-believers will continue to pay the price. We're actually buying into some sort of twisted form of Darwinistic Christianity.

That's uncomfortable, isn't it? That makes me squirm, not because I don't believe it, but because I DO believe it. And at the risk of becoming very unpopular with my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ - if you don't feel the same way - then it's time to re-read your Bible. Seriously. Without a doubt.

I'd like to share something Zach Nielsen, a fellow adoptive-parent and blogger, who wrote the following which pretty well sums it up:

"I think the gospel should influence every area of life, but especially adoption. Understanding that we have been adopted into the family of God (Eph. 1:5) when we were in dire need as weak and powerless sinners should inform how we care for those who are weak and powerless in this world. We see such a huge need in the world today and we have been given so much, and Biblically we know that we have been blessed to be a blessing, so adoption seems like a logical step for us.

Ultimately it came down to this: Our only real reason for not adopting is selfishness. If we can afford to support three kids I think we’ll probably be ok with four. The prospect of having an even crazier home, or getting up with another child in the middle of the night, or having enough energy to train and discipline another child pales in comparison with the overwhelming needs of an abandoned child who needs a loving Christian family. You could respond and ask, “Do you think that all those that choose not to adopt a child are selfish?” Certainly not, but it might be a good idea to ask yourself why you don’t want to adopt. Of course there are good reasons, but if you are able and in light of the huge need in our world today, why not? I recognized the legalistic danger here. Adopting a child is not a Biblical command and we cannot place this conviction of ours on anyone else as an identifying mark of real Christianity. But I think this legalistic danger is worth the risk in light of the need."

So what is your take on your own faith? Do you think God sees you as a second rate product? Do you think we should view each other - or anyone else for that matter - as less because we didn't belong to Him at birth or maybe still don't belong to Him? Are we sub-standard because we are - or once were - orphans? Not a chicken's chance in Chinatown!

Let's stand and be counted together. The body of Christ should no longer look the other way while millions of children (and just broken people in general) are floundering, some dying, in a world without the love and care that Jesus so freely offers. Let's change the way we think now, so we can introduce the next generation to a world where defending the fatherless and caring for those in need is a priority.

So I challenge you, take a closer look at your faith. If you think adoption is only for the barren, if you think caring for orphans is only for adoptive families, if you think foster kids are children best left to others who are already passionate about helping them, then dear one - you've missed understanding what your heavenly adoption should mean to you and what it really means to God.

Sarah's Video of the Week

2009-09-03T09:14:00.000-07:00

Here's Sarah's Video of the Week pick. It's actually pretty funny! (Remember to turn the music off first at the bottom of the page before playing.)

The Blind Side

2009-08-14T18:22:00.000-07:00

Releasing in November, based on a true story, The Blind Side is a movie about Michael Oher, a boy whose biological father was murdered and whose biological mom was addicted to crack. After years of being bounced around in the foster care system, he finally catches the eyes of a well-to-do white family who sees the true potential and promise in Michael. With their help, he overcomes his past, changes perspectives and wins hearts, propelling himself into the limelight as an All-American offensive left tackle and eventually, pro player for the Baltimore Ravens.

No Orphans of God

2009-08-08T21:31:00.001-07:00

Lord, thank you for not leaving us as orphans. Help us to do our part.

What is Our Charge?

2009-08-03T20:29:00.000-07:00

So before I go on my full, no-holds-barred, no-punches-pulled, have-at-it-in-a-big-way-until-you-are-so-red-in-the-face-you-look-like-you're-about-to-explode vent, I'd like to give you some background.

Me and Mike aren't able to have kids biologically. Long story short, we're building our family through adoption and are looking into fostering as well.

Truth? I used to be turned off when people would say the word, "foster" or even the word "adopt." There's just something about those two words that have negative connotations or stereotypes attached to them. It was only until I was hit in the face with the reality of what life is really like for the world’s 130 million orphans, did I struggle through the stereotype and into a reality where pain, humiliation, shame and misery live 24/7.

Many of these children have lost both their mom and their dad and are exposed to horrors only adults dream up. They have no one to protect them, no one to look after them and no one that cares. They live on whatever they can find. They may be moved from home to home, with little or no attention to their feelings, their educations, or their potential and many are stripped of their innocence long before they reach even their teenage years. For international orphans, the slave and sex trades are huge supporters of children without parents, after all, if no one is there to keep these children safe, they are fair game to be trafficked to other countries, many put in brothels before they reach their 10th birthday.

Warner Brothers just released a new movie called "Orphan" and for anyone who's seen the trailer, you can only guess what it's about... an “orphan” who turns life into a hellish nightmare for her newly adopted family. (Side tangent: the early tagline of the film, "It must be hard to love an adopted child as much as your own" was not only insensitive, but downright wrong. Adopted children ARE our own – they might not be biological, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t anything "real" about their relationships with their adopted parents - blood doesn't make families - love does. [Sorry… just have to vent that… people have even gone so far as to say that we aren’t Sarah’s “real” parents… at those points, you don’t need a hamburger to see what mad cow on two legs looks like…])

Granted, I know - it's for entertainment purposes only, yada yada yada, but when you take a closer look at this movie - there's a lot more to it than just entertainment... there's a negative stereotype that's fueling it's fire. If we weren't freaked about the possibility of what an emotionally unstable, orphaned child could potentially do, why would we go see a movie like this? I mean, why not make a movie about killer cotton balls or flying killer rabbits (oh wait, maybe they already did that...). The point is, in order to have a good horror movie, you've got to found it on a subject pretty high on the freak-out-o-meter and according to the movies insinuation, orphans must fall into that category. (Click here to read a great article on the subject.)

The same thing goes for that all too familiar wise-crack that blood families normally tease each other with, "You must have been adopted."

Now, I'll be the first one to admit, I used to say this all the time, so I understand not everyone who cracks this joke understands the depth of pain and hurt it may trigger behind the faces of adoptees or adopters. It's based on the fact that somehow, we all think that adoption is equal to an automatic black sheep. Is that really true? Will adoptees stick out like sore thumbs? Will they never fit in? Will they ever truly be a real or natural part of the family? According to this joke... the answer is no. And it kills me to think that Sarah may hear this and think, I'll never fit in... I'm not as good as a biological child... I'm not really theirs... I'm not valued as much.

So, my fellow Christians, I ask you specifically, what is wrong with this picture? What is our charge?

We need to stop and think about the kind of "fun" we're buying into - the kind of "fun" we're promoting. We're not speaking only words or just watching entertainment - we're encouraging and bolstering a negative stereotype that hurts the weakest of the weak and the lowest of the low: children who are aching for someone who will love them, protect them, and cherish them.

When we make horror movies and crack jokes about the orphaned, the adopted, the fostered, we hurt the children (and the families) who have been touched by these situations. We reduce orphans - children who didn't have a choice in their circumstances - to sub-standard level where they are second rate. Why are they second rate? Because they don't have parents? They don't have the same potential, the same intelligence, the same blood, the same feelings as any other child? Indirectly, we are giving our stamp of approval to promote and encourage the shunning of these little ones, the vast majority, aching to be loved.

True, many of these children are rough – many have emotional, physical and mental issues… but wouldn’t you if you’d been beaten by your dad? raped by your uncle? put in a brothel at 7? watched your mom prostitute herself for drugs? been ignored to the point where you didn’t have anything but the kitchen trash to eat out of? I’m in my 30’s and if one of these things ever happened to me, it would profoundly affect my life… and I’m an adult!

Children are not meant to handle situations like these. It is beyond their little bodies and brains to process these things… so yes, they are broken… but they are not, not, not beyond God’s repair. They are not beyond healing when placed with a family who is willing to look past their pain and into their hearts to see the potential that resides buried in each and every one.

So what excuse do I have? What excuse can I produce for not opening my home to a little one in dire need of help? As a Christian, I’ve been struggling with this for a while – I’ve given myself just about every excuse and yet God presses my heart with this question. And I’ve come to the conclusion, I can't argue with the Bible. As Christians, God has charged us to take care of these children. It's not an option – it’s a command. And it's a blanket command - doesn't give any stipulations or exceptions, like "I'm not moved to support that minstry" or "I'm not called to do this." For some reason, Christians are choosing to overlook orphans (and widows too for that matter) and the result not only breaks God's heart, but the hearts of millions who again, just want to experience the love of a real family. There are scores of passages that tell us that God wants each of us to care for the fatherless; google “orphans and the Bible” and read what comes up. After reading even a handful of these passages, how can we, as Christians, ignore what God is telling us to do? How can we casually put them aside?

James 1:27 - "Pure religion is this - that we take care of orphans and widows in their distress."

No, I'm not saying everyone should adopt or foster a child - no I'm not saying that you have to open an orphanage. What I am saying is if you call yourself a child of the Living God, then the word "adoption" should be near and dear to your heart... because we, as Christians, have experienced adoption firsthand; we've been adopted by God Himself.

How different does that make us in comparison to these children? How different does that make our lives with God in comparison to the orphan’s life with each one of us? God was willing to pay the price... make the sacrifice. Why then, should we expect the calling on our lives to be any different? Why do we think it’s ok to turn our heads, look the other way, when God is so explicit about how he feels about the fatherless in His Word?

We're all not called to adopt? We're all not called to foster? Maybe. Or maybe that's just an excuse we use to make ourselves feel better about looking the other way while these little ones suffer. Maybe it's easier for us to ignore their pain and keep ourselves comfortable, than acknowledge what God really wants us to do, after all, that’s the real reason why we don’t adopt/foster/help… we want to stay comfortable. But is that really a good enough excuse? Being comfortable? Is that really something we'd be comfortable telling Jesus when we see Him face to face?

For me, I just can’t get past that anymore. It eats at me because I still don't feel like I'm where God is calling me to be. I'm starting to get a glimpse of what my weakness really is – something horribly ugly and selfish, and it makes me wonder in amazement at how our great and forgiving God can still look on me with love. If I were God, I would have fried me a long time ago...

Why is it so hard to let go of comfortable? Why is it so difficult to release my wants and desires for my life? If I could just step out in faith, if I could just let go of the things that bind me to this earthen vessel and not to Him, if I could just let go and trust.

My only hope is my adopted heavenly Father.

Lord, be close enough to hear my whispers as sometimes I can hardly say what I feel you want me to. Be my Strength - I feel so void of anything strong, save the hope I have in You. Lord, impress on my heart, what is my charge here? What do You have for me to do? Tell me... then give me the strength to see it through for Your glory.

A sleeping orphan at Otino-Waa Orphanage in War-torn northern Uganda.

Battling Comfortable

2009-07-13T22:19:00.000-07:00

I was once a big, fat, ugly, juicy and bad-tasting caterpillar.
It's true. I was!

Ok, ok... of course, I'm not being literal, but there are moments, when I want to go back into my nice, warm, safe, toasty, snug-as-a-bug-in-a-rug cocoon and turn back into a lazy little worm. I mean, doesn't that sound just wonderful? Snoozing the day away, without a thought or care, safe and insulated from the outside world?

Not only that, but bad things happen far less to big, fat, ugly, juicy and bad-tasting caterpillars than they do to other insects. Take beetles for instance... I mean, when was the last time you ever saw a caterpillar skewered to cork board, sitting under squeaky-clean plates of glass where hundreds of people file by remarking how beautiful their little dead bodies are?

And no one picks on you, really. Humans (at least the big ones) think you're disgusting for the most part and try to avoid you. Most birds have already made the mistake of trying to eat your great-great-great-great-grandparents, so they leave you alone too. Matter of fact, although you may look quite plump, one brazen flash of your chubby, colorful little legs, would send most of the animal kingdom into a tizzied state of panic. How many other creatures can command that kind of respect just by one little giggly-wiggly move?

Being a big, fat caterpillar allows you some serious luxuries. You can laze around as much as you want, eat a little of this, munch on a bit of that... lay around and roll from side to side occasionally, maybe the odd little ipity-bipity to get you to the next leaf, etc. You don't have to answer to a queen (unless you're a boy caterpillar) which means you don't have to work or measure up to any one's expectations, so life is pretty laid back. You're safe in your own little caterpillar world, doing your own little caterpillar thing.

Most days, the caterpillar in me is hugantic, past gianormous. I'd love to stretch my fat little legs out on a nice juicy leaf and eat until I roll off, maybe land on a cushy little tomato where I could sunbathe awhile, flash a bird or two, make some feathers fly - you know... all that fun, comfortable, easy, no-effort-necessary kind of stuff.

I'm half ashamed to say that sadly, a good majority of my daily thoughts are about how I can get back to being comfortable, which is LAME given I live amongst the world's top 5% of wealthiest people (which means I'm exceedingly comfortable by the worlds standards - just living in America qualifies most of us for this category). Where was I? Oh yes... LAME...

Why is it that we are not born with a "I-am-content" gene somewhere in our genetic make-up? I mean, what rocket scientist dreamed up the saying, "enough is enough" - everybody should know by now, enough is never enough! It's our nature to always want more.

I love watching kids sometimes. They act like miniature adults at times, except without the inhibitions or conscience. How many times have we seen the kid with the boat look at the kid with the car and drop his boat to go for the car. But when the kid with the car lets the kid with the boat (who doesn't really have the boat anymore because he dropped it to go after the kid with the car) have his car, the kid with the car (who used to have the boat) wants the boat back. Seriously, I think we all want the car AND the boat... except for those of us who want planes...

I get so tired of battling myself. I find one minute I'm spouting ideals of how we should all be more concerned with other people, especially those who cannot help themselves, then, five minutes later, I'm whining about not having enough whipped cream on my strawberry shortcake. (eye roll) You big, fat Caterpillar! (munch munch munch)

Of all the scores of mind-battles I endeavor to win each day, I find myself always battling this one the most. I slowly crawl, eking ever closer towards desiring to be less caterpillar... maybe a bit more butterfly, then I revert completely back into my wormy old self. A few moments later, the transformation starts again - sometimes I make it all the way to butterflyville before I - poof! - I am transported back to square one in caterpillarland. At that point, sometimes I'm so sick of my failings, all I want to do is bury my little fat self in my cocoon, hoping that some magical transformation will occur. But that's not exactly the way it works...

It's not easy. It's definitely not comfortable, but in the long run, isn't it worth it? Why stay an earthbound worm when we are given the chance to fly? Do we stay in our cocoons out of ignorance, pride or fear, only to later discover that we missed out on the most beautiful Thing life had to offer?

And so the question becomes, will I, an ugly caterpillar, reach out and take hold of the Hand of the One who can wholly transform me into something maybe not as easy, maybe something not as tough, but guaranteed and without a doubt something far more lovely than what I am now? Can I trust this One will truly do what He is promising to do? Isn't what I have to lose far less than what I have to gain? Then why is this so difficult?

And so remains the second by second, minute by minute decision: do I stay a big, fat, ugly, juicy, and bad-tasting caterpillar and inch my way through life seeking the same comfort that keeps me so repulsive, or do I let Him turn me into something beautiful and treasured, something that lifts off on wings of faith and makes the most of this breeze called life?

No matter...

2009-06-19T22:20:00.000-07:00

No matter what awful thing I do, no matter how bad I allow it to get, no matter how far I go, no matter what lengths I take, He promises to be with me. He will remain by my side no matter the heartache I put Him through, no matter what pain I cause Him to endure, no matter what sorrow I saddle Him with, He promises, He will never leave me or forsake me.

No matter what is outside of my control, no matter what I cannot see, no matter what I cannot do, no matter the circumstances I find myself in, no matter why I wasn't able to foresee what would happen, no matter if I succeed or if I fail, He promises, He will never leave me or forsake me.

No matter what I look like, no matter who people may think I am, no matter if my hair is thin, no matter if I am unattractive or unsightly, no matter if I am ill and cannot stand, no matter if I am in a place where no one wants to be, no matter if no one comes to visit, no matter if no one cares for me and I am all alone, no matter if I am unloved by anyone for the rest of my days, He promises, He will never leave me or forsake me.

No matter if I don't know where I come from, no matter if I don't know where to go to, know matter if I don't know who my family is or who I belong to, no matter if I've lost something so precious it has broken me, no matter if I am cold or lost or practically lifeless, no matter if I am weak or frail, no matter if they say my life is worthless, no matter if I am bought or traded or discarded or enslaved, no matter if I cannot go where my heart wants to take me, He promises, He will never leave me or forsake me.

Lord, thank You for your promises. Thank You for always being there whether I think You're there or not. Thank You for loving me when I'm unlovely and for caring for me when I'm uncaring. Thank You for being my comfort when I need arms to run to and hold me tight. Thank you for Your deep reassurance that I am a treasure in Your sight no matter how low I may feel about myself and no matter how insignificant others may make me feel. Thank you Lord, for being my Redeemer, the One who has rescued me from a darkness known only to those who are beyond blindness and past all hope. Most of all, thank You Lord for Your unchanging love and never-failing forgiveness... the very reasons why I am Yours.

Tapping Out

2009-05-09T10:48:00.000-07:00

Tapping out - it sounds so "Uncle! Uncle!" to me.

Every time I think about the words "tap out" or "tapping out" I think about the scene in A Christmas Story where Ralphie is pushed past the confines of sanity and finally goes bonzo on the neighborhood bully, Scut Farkus. What ensues is an unforgettable visual: sweet, smooth-cheeked, angelic little Ralphie sitting atop a cowering, yellow-eyed Scut, beating the living snot out of him, all the while, uttering a fluid string of unintelligible profanities under his breath. There's just something about that scene that makes me feel really good... in an really awful way. I mean, the bully had it comin' - you can only expect a kid to take so much before he finally looses it and freaks out on you, and I guess, since most of us have been bullied before (in one way or another), it feels good to see a little "justice" administered. But each time I see that fight, after about the first 3 seconds, I start to think, "ok Ralphie - dude, you can let up now..." and Ralphie continues to pound Scut. It's actually an uncomfortable thing for me to watch past the moment where Ralphie lays him out and gives him the first solid wallop on the kisser. After about 5 seconds, I'm thinking, "uh... Ralphie - he's down - cut him some slack..." and about that time, I thinking, "Scut - TAP OUT MAN! JUST TAP OUT!!!!"

It was about three weeks ago, I tapped out. We had been going through several rough spots (which, when you put things into perspective, compared to the rest of the world, really weren't all that rough, but to us, it wasn't exactly a day at Disneyland) and were doing our best to persevere through them, but it got to the point where something "bad" started happening every other day... and after about a week of that, I felt like someone was sitting on top of me, trying to beat me to an emotional pulp.

I don't know that I've ever felt like that before, where I felt as if something (or someone) was very purposefully and very deliberately trying to make my life a mess, but this particular week, due to these "bad" things that happened which were completely outside our control, I was definitely thinking something was different about my situation. I had one of the worst colds in my life which made me physically miserable, but it was the emotional heaviness that really got me; I felt as if I was being forced to ride some sort of hellish teeter-totter where one minute, my head would be above the waters of "you're good for nothing" and the next minute, I would be totally submerged. And on and on the ride went - "You're weak, you're not good enough, you're fat and ugly, you're a lousy mom, you're an even worse wife, you have nothing to offer, you're a nobody, your situation is going to pull you under, you're tired, you're worn, maybe you should give up... you just need to dig yourself a hole and jump in."

Although some of our issues had been ongoing for months and I was doing ok with them, with the addition of these few extra items, a week into it, I finally broke down. I tapped out.

I never thought of it before, but when a Christian taps out, what is really happening is that Jesus is "tagged in." He doesn't have to wait for the slap on the hand, He sees and knows when we've reached our limits and jumps into the fray to shield us. He did that over 2000 years ago (with His death and resurrection) and He still does it today. All we have to do is tap out. When we stop trying to do life on our own, when we stop trying to heft things under our own strength, we we stop trying to change people, change our situation, change our ourselves, when we come to the end of the line and all we want to do is take a one-way plane trip to "Nobrainrequiredville" we have the blaring opportunity to tap out and tag Jesus in.

Now, I'm not saying that we should all lay back, take life easy and expect Jesus to handle everything for us without our lifting a finger, nor am I saying that when we do ask Jesus to act, that He waves His hand and everything bad currently happening will disappear. No, I don't think Jesus normally works that way.

But I do believe that our weakest moments, can be our most profound and peaceful moments, moments where we see and finally understand the strength that God is offering to us. Without these hard times, He has no way of shaping our character, and most of us, although we acknowledge God is "up there," most of us will not grow close to Him unless we experience times where we desperately need Him.

I've listened to war vets tell their stories of being in battles with their fellow soldiers and in listening, how many times have I heard, "I had no idea who this guy was when we went into battle, but going through what we did, he's like a brother to me now." And so it goes with us and God - although I might have known who God is on the "outside" going through rough times with Him has allowed me to know Him in a much more intimate way... and it has built trust... because when you invest in God, He does not return void. And so, by trusting Him a bit at a time and seeing how He comes through, I trust that He will do what He says and He says - that if I "think on things that are true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, anything that is excellent or praiseworthy, then His peace, the peace that transcends all understanding, will guard my heart and mind in Christ Jesus" (Phil. 4) and that He will lead me into a place of rest. (Psalm 23)

Many don't understand this. Peace? A place of rest? But didn't your circumstances continue to happen? Yes. Many are still alive and kickin' today and others He thankfully put down for us. But regardless of what is happening today, I feel at peace. How? Because I know that whatever happens, if we should have no food, no water, no home, no clothes, no shoes, no friends, no family, no health... even if the very worst happens, God's promises will still be true and we are only here on this planet for a wisp of a while. And if Scriptures like Psalm 23 aren't meant for here and now for me, then He means it for there (heaven) and then (after I kick the bucket). Regardless of the time frame, I know His promises are true - He WILL lead me beside quiet waters - He WILL restore my soul!

That counts for the man who has just lost his wife, the love of his life. It counts for the man who had a heart attack only this morning and it counts for the family that surrounds him in love. It counts for the family who still grieves the loss of their child. It counts for the wife who so badly wants her husband to love her and only her. It counts for the old and forgotten who are sick and dying in rest homes where no one comes to visit. It counts for the man who so desperately needs affirmation and respect from someone... anyone. It counts for all the beautiful children who have disfigured bodies and no parents to turn to for shelter, nourishment and love. It counts for the woman who hefts the weight of the world squarely on her two shoulders and she is worn and tired and depressed. It counts for all those who are lonely and have no one to hold on to at night. It counts for the prisoner who has raped and murdered. It counts for those unjustly accused. It counts for all these. His promises are true. They count.

There is no situation, no state of being, no place, no circumstance where God does not see, where God does not understand, where God does not hear, where God does not care. If we come to Him, with our hearts so heavy with pain and ask Him to exchange our weariness for His strength, He will not fail us.

I continue to be amazed at the work God does in my life and regardless of the outcome of our situation, I know God is good and I know He never leaves my side. He took all those problems - the cold, the house, the childcare, the poor self-esteem, the uncertainty - and when I was quiet enough - He gently reminded me of who He is and why I shouldn't worry about those problems. It's not that Christians don't have worries or anxieties, Jesus is not some magical pill that we pop and suddenly everything is a bowl of cherries. No, we have our fair share of issues, just like everyone else. Our children die, our parents hurt us, our friends betray us, our jobs drain us, our lives are subject to the same harsh realities as those who live around us, but the difference between me and someone who doesn't yet know Christ is that God promises me - my worries and anxieties will never overtake me, never push me under, never take me into the kill zone... they won't ever leave me completely ravaged, if I give them to Him.

All I have to do is tap out.

Heartfelt Reminder

2009-04-16T21:57:00.000-07:00

I wept while watching this short clip. To many it many seem like a “feel-good, under-dog wins” clip, but to me it is much more. As I watched this clip, it resonated deep in my person – and has become one of the most heartfelt reminders of how incredibly precious and prized we are in God’s eyes.

Watching this woman brought tears to my eyes. In this, the performance of her life, we watch how this older, unemployed, unattractive, never-been-kissed woman – initially laughed at – we watch how she is transformed into something valued, something treasured… something prized.

I’ve always considered myself an ugly duckling, nothing much to look at and certainly nothing much to brag about, but lately, I’ve been trying to focus not so much what other people think about me (or what even I think about me) so much as I try to concentrate on what God thinks about me. God tells me I am precious. He calls me His beloved.

So watching Susan Boyle was like watching myself – socially awkward, a little off-beat, and seriously frumpy, Susan Boyle was not a crowd pleaser… until they all understood, there was a lot more to Susan Boyle than what was presented from a strictly exterior view.

To God, each of us is a Susan Boyle, except unlike all us wonderful, non-superficial humans, He knew her value well before she opened her mouth… and so He knows the worth of each and every one of us. God knew and treasured her even before she appeared on that show and God will know and treasure her regardless of fame, fortune or success even after the limelight fades to black.

I am convinced, we are all like Susan Boyle in God’s eyes… and unlike the crowd of people around us who judge us on our financial success, our level of education, our social status, how attractive we are, or even how spiritual we are, God sees past all the superficial fluff into our very hearts. But the amazing thing to me about this is, regardless of what He sees there, even if I am the ugliest, darkest, most unattractive, and dirtiest person on earth, He tells me I am beyond cherished, I am past any value anyone could ever put on me... all because I was bought with a price - paid for by the blood of His Son, Jesus.

And after that, we should no longer be concerned with the Simon Cowell’s, or the Paula Abdul’s we may meet along life’s bumpy road. After Jesus, the only audience we should be concerned about performing for is our Audience of One! And He will always give us a standing ovation – no matter how lowly or how insignificant the world may tell us we are.

Click here to watch Susan's performance.

More Star Wars Funny Stuff...

2009-03-25T23:48:00.000-07:00

Lots going on these days - so haven't had much time to blog, BUT - a friend posted this today on Facebook and I thought it was good enough to pass on. Remember to turn the background music off first at the bottom of the page... enjoy!

Don't Mess with the Fur!!!!

2009-03-10T22:57:00.000-07:00

Serves that guy right for calling him a cat! Pinkie ain't no dog-gone kitty cat! That there's a miniature tiger! A mini tiger, I say!!!

Two Photos - One Big Moral Challenge

2009-03-09T23:38:00.001-07:00

Capturing the Unthinkable

2009-02-02T23:22:00.000-08:00

I've seen this photo several times before. Today, I came by it again... and again, it elicited the same reaction from me; I gasped out loud and held my breath, my eyes filling with tears for this dear, dear little soul. This little child, this precious little treasure - alone, starving, in need beyond words, her only company a vulture and the photographer that stopped to take her desperate little photo. She is exhausted and collapsed - her little body tells more than a story of hunger, but a story of hopelessness.

I researched this photo because it moved me so much. I found out that it was taken in the Sudan in 1993 by one Kevin Carter, who, for this particular photograph, entitled "A Starving Child in Sudan", won the Pulitzer in 1994.

Before his Pulitzer, Mr. Carter was a part of the "Bang Bang Club," a group of four South African photojournalists who traveled to the poorest, most war-torn townships in South Africa, recording the horrific as they went. I cannot comment on who Mr. Carver actually was, because I do not know. I do know that he exposed himself to terrible dangers as he traveled, taking photos amidst executions, murders, gunfights and all the other horrors of war. He also bore witness to the starving masses of humanity which were in large part, greatly fueled by the 1993 Sudanese Civil War.

Kevin Carter, Pulitzer Prize Winning Photojournalist
September 13, 1960 - July 27, 1994

The question arose shortly after the photo was published on the front page of the New York Times, what ever happened to this little girl? Did he rescue her? Did he sweep her up in his arms and run her to the feeding station where she was able to recover? Did she live? Is she still alive? What happened to her?

To this, I only have what Mr. Carver told the press: He said he was so upset at having seen all the hundreds of starving people at the feeding station, that he ventured off into the brush, only to hear the soft sounds of a whimpering child. As he approached the girl, a vulture settled not too far away. He then goes on to say he waited to line up the right shot, hoping the bird would spread it wings, but finally, after 20 minutes, resolved to be content with the photos he had already taken and proceeded to scare the bird away. He then walked to a nearby tree, sat, smoked a cigarette and wept. For whatever reason, he did not help the little girl.

Some say she had already been to the feeding station, others say she was a short distance away from it. Some say there were hundreds of other starving children just out of range of the camera. Others say she was the only one around. Whatever the case may have been, the fact remains - this little child, this poor little soul was in desperate need and no one stopped to love her, to value her, to care for her in those 20 minutes... no one.

Mr. Carver committed suicide only two short months after accepting his Pulitzer for this photo. Some say he was so guilt stricken over his lack of compassion that he couldn't stand to live, others say just the opposite - he was so compassionate, that he became severely distressed and inconsolable due to all he had seen. Maybe it was a mixture of the two; being immersed in that much pain and suffering must take it's toll and I imagine, when you witness such devastation, it starts to harden you, especially if you feel there is nothing you can do to help. In his final words, Mr. Carver mentioned that what he had seen over the course of his life haunted and pained him beyond what he could bear and so, took his own life.

This story doesn't have a happy ending and it's not only about the people in Sudan, but it's about the whole world in general. There are many who would still throw accusations at Mr. Carver, calling him a vulture himself, having taken the photo and done nothing to help, while they themselves choose to step over and ignore the issue at hand to gripe about one individuals moral code. In actuality, although Mr. Carver didn't respond to this dear little child, his photograph shocked a nation to tears and helped to lay the moral groundwork for future political action. The photo not only depicts one unimaginable moment in time, but it whispers about the continuing struggle between good and evil to everyone who views it.

I think about that little girl and what she must have been feeling in that moment. I cannot imagine she was unaware the bird was following her, nor can I imagine she wasn't aware of why it was following her. Her little frame is crumpled - she doesn't have the strength to even stand, but the desire to live moves her forward, if only an inch at a time. She has no one to care for her, her little spirit so broken and crushed, she must have been aching for someone to just hold her... to just take her hand and comfort her - one kind word - one heartfelt touch - anything to transport her little mind to a place where she was safe... where she was loved.

The photo is saturated with sorrow. It drips misery, leaks heartache, and bleeds agony.

How many other little ones still remain in the dirt, exhausted and broken, still crying for someone to help them? How many little souls do we pass by everyday? Do they need to be physically present to be real to us or is just knowing that somewhere, a little one is dying of hunger enough? If we are aware of their plight and chose to do nothing, if we understand what is happening, yet our convictions do not lead us to help where we can, are we not much better than those who stand idly by to watch?

These questions visit me almost daily anymore. Each time I look into my fridge or pull up to my home - each time I play my iPod or watch my TV, I cannot help but think, as someone who is supposed to be in love with Jesus, why oh why do I spend my time, money and energy buying into a world that doesn't care if other people starve to death? A world where my indulgence is more important than a child who needs nothing more than my love? Why am I not motivated enough to abandon the things that make me "comfortable" for the sole sake of answering His call? What is prohibiting me from letting go of these, these... these - material possessions - when life and love are so much more important?

My thoughts are feed by what Scripture tells us - although we cannot earn our way to heaven (Ephesians 2:8-9), good deeds are a by-product of our spiritual health; faith without works is dead (James 2:26). I find myself reflecting deeply on the parable of the widow giving her last two copper coins in comparison to what the rich people around her were giving (Luke 21:1-4). From this account, Jesus tells us sacrificial giving, following Him whole-heartily, giving and walking WAY outside our comfort zones, is something He deeply desires us to do. However, for we, the rich (any of the roughly 62 million Americans [1/4 of the American population] who fall within the top 10% of the world's wealthiest) - for us, it is something extremely difficult to do, so difficult in fact, Jesus says it's easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle (Matthew 19:16-30). However, there is still hope - He goes on to say that with God, all things are possible.

True, we do not carry this photo or these thoughts in the forefronts of our minds, furthermore, they make us uncomfortable... or maybe we do grieve, for an instant, and just don't know what else to do. Maybe it's just me and I have issues balancing my internal scales. I know scores of wonderful people who give of themselves very generously, but for me... for myself, these are the questions I revisit over and over again. These are the questions that keep me up late at night and sit on my lap in the morning. They ride with me to work in my car, sing to me when I hear music about the broken, they patiently wait for moments of stillness and then break into running when I see a child in need.

However, there is one set of questions I always come back to. One set that I always return to no matter what I've seen, heard or done throughout my day... "Jesus, You gave up everything for me. If You are calling me to action, what is my charge here? How can I glorify you with my life? Jesus, what do You want me to do?"

And to this question, I always hear Him give the same answer...

The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.'
- Matthew 25:40

There is still Hope.
There is still Love.
Even amidst capturing the unthinkable... there is still Jesus.

May the Farm Be With You!

2009-01-18T21:17:00.000-08:00

Remember to turn the music off at the bottom of the page before you start the show. Now grab your organic popcorn and your organic chocolate covered peanuts (don't forget your organic sodapop) and let the show begin!

The Up-Side of Being Robbed

2009-01-10T05:32:00.000-08:00

Our office wall... minus 4 guitars...

After a barrage of standard questions, the kind Officers left our home and we looked at each other incredulously and I thought, "So, what exactly is the up-side to being robbed?"

I thought it was odd that the garage door opener was missing out of my car and I remember Mike taking it the night before, mentioning something about dying batteries. I was actually slightly peeved because I knew I would have to park on our tilted drive, get Sarah's meds, the laptop, my purse, the days receipts and used kleenex out of the car while holding the door open due to the incline. Not only did I have to carry all these items, but I also needed to free Sarah from her car seat and take her in as well.

Now, I know from experience, this isn't a fun thing to do when you have way too much to carry as I've done it several times before, each time with the same result - you drop things, papers blow down the driveway, your child starts to complain, the meds slosh, etc. Not only that, but I was doing all this in the dark, which wouldn't be a problem if you didn't have a fear of bugs and spiders... unfortunately, that's just not me.

Our front door is a place I don't like to be. We don't use it heavily, so there's always spiders or bugs or snails or icky little critters hanging out there. During last fall, there was a huge orb weaver (large web making spider - looks like a tick on steroids) that insisted on making it's web to the right of the door and if you weren't watching where you were going, you'd walk right into it... and into the spider... so with these thoughts in mind, I was grumbling and mumbling as I approached our front door.

I had just enough light from the street lamp to see where to insert the key and as I turned the key, I tried to open the door... but again and again, I couldn't get the thing to budge! I tried at least six or seven times more, each time, pushing hard against the door and still, I couldn't get in. I thought this was odd and it frustrated me even more than I already was and I finally decided that either that door was going to open, or I was going to break it down in the process. And with that, into the door my shoulder went and both me and Sarah went spilling into the house.

As I "walked" through the door, I thought I heard a noise come from the garage - like a door slamming shut, but didn't think anything of it... just thought it was a noise, some sort of inconsequential racket, so I proceeded into the house with Sarah in tow. Right away, I noticed the change jar we keep on the bar was missing... but after searching high and low, I quickly surmised that Mike had taken it with him to cash in. Nothing seemed out of place, so the night proceeded uneventfully. I put Sarah down to sleep, then three hours later Mike came home.

The first thing I asked him when he came through the door was "where did you put the change jar?" "What do you mean? I didn't do anything with it..." "Well, it's not there. Did you move it?" "No, it was there this morning." "Well it's not there now. Are you sure you didn't move it?" "No, I didn't move it. What did you do with it? Are you pulling my leg?" "No, I'm serious, what did you do with it?" And so, we went on like this for a few minutes until finally, the unthinkable became reality to us... we'd been robbed!

Mike quickly ran upstairs, armed himself and started making a sweep of the house to make sure there wasn't anyone hiding anywhere. I started moving through the house, flipping on lights to see if anything else had walked off. First place I went was the office and noticed, all his guitars (save one) was missing from their hangers on the wall. "Your guitars are gone honey..."

After he made a sweep of the house and I had called the police, we just looked at each other in disbelief. So this is what it feels like to have someone come into your home, into your safe haven, into the most intimate of living spaces and rip away what doesn't belong to them. In short - you feel very violated and extremely unnerved. All but one of his guitars had been stolen, including his classical (my wedding present to him, given almost 12 years ago) and his electric (my birthday gift to him almost 4 years ago). Both guitars were extremely sentimental to both of us and to see them missing made our hearts ache. But after a few reflective moments alone, the question again, "So, what exactly is the up-side to being robbed?"

This question would roll around in my brain for the next couple days and I can honestly tell you, my reaction to the people that invaded our home was not one of forgiveness or mercy. To tell you the truth, it wouldn't have phased me a bit to have blown a toe or two off their slick little feet or maybe filled their little fannies with some lead as they ran out the door. No, I wasn't feeling exactly Christ-like at this point... I wanted JUSTICE!

Then I got to thinking - how much Jesus must love me to not have sought justice over mercy and grace for me. How much God must burn and seethe watching His beloved children die at the hands of evil people on a daily basis... and yet He holds His anger back to allow those very murderers time enough to change, so that they too may know His love. Who am I to seek justice for a few guitars and some spare change?

Given, I need to work on the attitude a good bit (given my natural reaction is to shoot off yer dog-gone butt off first, then ask questions later) but it becomes so much easier to do when you look at how Jesus suffered on that cross. I find myself thinking there truly is an up-side to robbery - the blessing comes not from those who did the robbing so much as it comes from Him who forgives our robbing!

Great Reads For Christmas!

2008-12-19T21:15:00.001-08:00

I've been reading a ton lately and recommend three great books. They might not be Nobel or Pulitzer material, but the message in each is well worth the read!

Crazy Love by Francis Chan
If you're a Christian and need your butt-kicked, then this one will do the job quite nicely. Read it and be scared... and inspired at the same time.

Redeeming Love by Francine Rivers
If you're a woman and love the 1800's and want to read a great romance novel that is tasteful (non-pornographic), pick this one up. I love this period of history and although it has a bit of a slow start, once it gets going, you won't want to put it down!

Safely Home by Randy Alcorn
If you're in need of a follow-up to the aforementioned butt-kicker, then this is a great read about the persecuted church in China. Another slow starter, I'm about half way through this substantial read and again, I can't put it down! It helps if you enjoy learning about other cultures or have an interest in China (like I do!) - but even if you don't, after reading even a 1/4 of this book, one becomes keenly aware of just how precious our freedom really is.

What do you really want for Christmas?

2008-12-17T22:02:00.000-08:00

Where Beautiful Things Grow

2008-12-13T15:25:00.000-08:00

It was a little under a year ago, on a beautiful day in autumn, that I had one of the neatest "Ah ha!" moments in my short little life.

It was a different day from the beginning - a day where reflection on who I was just seemed to start only shortly after my eyes popped open. As I made my way to work, I sank deeper into thought as I watched grey clouds slowly roll across the sky. It appeared as if rain would be on the docket and as dark as the sky was, it comforted me somewhat and made me calm. "It can't be all sunshine all the time," it told me. That little voice inside my head was right... and on that particular day, the sun inside my heart wasn't shining either.

For those of you who might know me better, I'm one of those unfortunate people who is pretty passionate about pursuing answers to "life" questions. It was on this day that the culmination of months of asking God, "Why am I here? God, what am I made for? What do you want me to do with my life?" would finally come. As I drove down the freeway, I continued my desperate conversation with Him. My mind whirled and spun, thinking about all the things I wasn't and all the reasons why I wasn't good enough. By the time I got to work, I was a mess.

So as I got out of my car to walk to work, as my feet hit the pavement, I was deep in thought or at least, deep in feeling totally low about myself. As I walked closer to the front door, I looked up at our sign... "I work for a church and I feel like this?" was all I could think. "What can I do, where should I go, what is it You want me to do? I wish you would talk to me Lord..." and with that, I looked at the ground.

Funny how God answers prayer. He doesn't answer us over a loud speaker or send lightening bolts to announce His presence. Instead, I saw a small crack in the asphalt. "Lord that's how my heart feels... cracked... I want so badly to do something for You."

Then I saw it...

There, at my feet, was a single flower that had sprouted out of that crack. Healthy, alive, vibrant and well, the little flower had grown in a place I would have least expected it. I looked around and there were no other flowers like it anywhere to be seen. And in the one-second rush that had comprised that instant, He had given me His answer, "Look at this flower. It's growing in a crack... which is exactly where I put it. Grow and be content under My care where ever I put you. If it's here, in a crack, then it's here, in a crack. The question should have never been about what you can do or about how good you can be for Me. The question should have only ever been, 'what more can You do?' Because it is not by your own strength, not by your own might that you do anything well or right. Now see what I can do! Look how this little flower lives! Where you are now is right where I want you to be."

So, the moral of this story? The way I see it, you can take take two different roads here. Road #1: if you happen to be a tasty seed, don't ever let yourself get eaten by a bird - who knows where you'll end up! OR... maybe something a little more wise - Road #2: like the magnet on my mom's refrigerator says, "Bloom where you're planted" - and trust God will handle the rest. (Now, if I could only remember that every second of my day!)

Not the exact flower I saw, but you get the picture!

Blog Redesign

2008-12-03T23:58:00.000-08:00

Hope you like the new skin on the blog! I had a ball designing it - and it was the first time in over a year that designing something didn't feel like work.

I'll be adding new bits and pieces over the next several weeks to make it a more interesting place to visit. So when you have a few moments of down time, drop on by... and bring some hot chocolate with you!

Australia

2008-12-02T21:09:00.001-08:00

Not sure if many of you know it, but I'm a huge movie buff that hasn't been to the theatre in months... that is, until last weekend - we were able to go see... Australia!

Although it was cheesy in some parts, and pretty overdone in others, on the whole, I loved the movie because it has a great score (music like this moves me to the point where I often think about how blessed I am to be able to hear), because the story is centered around how love can cross cultures and colors, and because it reminds me of how gloriously stunning God has made different parts of our world.

What an amazing Creator - to give us music to express ourselves, to give us the Utlimate example of Love, to give us breathtaking beauty to stand in awe of. It all points back to Him. How great our God is! How wonderful His ways. How amazing His creations. Thank you Lord for my ears and my eyes and most of all, giving me a heart to be swept away with.

The Anatomy of a Hopeless People...

2008-11-13T20:08:00.000-08:00

I sit here at my computer tonight without words to explain my emotions. I am a mess of seething anger and frustrated hopelessness, floating in a ocean of sorrow. I have no words for the disjointed reality that I am only beginning to see, only that my hands want to reach heavenward in a pleading gesture of how my heart feels at this moment. "Oh Lord, how can you let this happen? How can you sit and watch so much evil happen without rising a hand against it? How can you watch your little children endure so much agony and horror? How long will you let this continue?"

To my heart-cry I find His response in His eternal perspective from the book of Isaiah...

"I, even I, am he who comforts you. Who are you that you fear mortal men, the sons of men, who are but grass, that you forget the LORD your Maker, who stretched out the heavens and laid the foundations of the earth, that you live in constant terror every day because of the wrath of the oppressor, who is bent on destruction? For where is the wrath of the oppressor? The cowering prisoners will soon be set free; they will not die in their dungeon, nor will they lack bread. For I am the LORD your God, who churns up the sea so that its waves roar - the LORD Almighty is his name. I have put my words in your mouth and covered you with the shadow of my hand - I who set the heavens in place, who laid the foundations of the earth...'"

I know and believe my Lord, yet it's so hard, almost impossible in my humanity, to keep that perspective when you're faced with worlds overwhelming need for love. It is this lack of love for one another, stirred into the foulness of evil, that drives mankind to do such horrific things as rape women and children and murder babies and old people.

As you can well guess by now, this post is not for the faint of heart nor is it for anyone looking for a quick "pick-me-up", so if you're looking for "happy, happy, joy, joy" today, that's the next blog over.

I will tell you, this post is ultimately about hope and with that in mind, I ask for your consideration: spend the next few moments to learn about one issue (one out of scores) that I believe every good person in this world should take a stand against... even if only for one small moment in time.

So what is it, what is it that has me so ignited?

I've just finished reading an article about eastern Congo. As many of you know, not much good comes out of eastern Congo. This country has been ripped to shreds, it's people decimated (almost to the point of genocide) for the past 60+ years. The Second Congo War stands eerily alone as being the world's deadliest conflict since World War II in that, by 2008, the war and its aftermath will have killed over an estimated 5.4 million people.

To give you a bit of background information on this region of Africa, many of the countries in this part of the continent have been undergoing "ethnic cleansing" by radical Muslim extremists or various other military and/or governmental groups. Such countries include Congo, Sudan, Uganda, and Rwanda to name a few. Whether under the guise of civil or religious wars, many of the atrocities being committed there today are over the color of ones skin and ancestral background. Many of these countries have "cartoon" governments that secretly participate and fund these unimaginable acts or sit idly by, turning their heads as their people are viciously raped, slaughtered and starved to death.

In addition, other countries that could exercise huge amounts of positive influence in this area (like China and Egypt) do nothing to persuade or discourage this behavior, because of their ever increasing desire to fuel their own economic booms with African oil.

The situation is dire - the need is massive - and the world governments continue to sit on their hands. Instead of real help from the United Nations (which has acknowledged the genocidal seriousness of the situation) these suffering people are left to the humble care of struggling aid workers and under-supported humanitarian health organizations who do the best they can with what they are allowed to put on the ground.

The particular article I read today was about how men in eastern Congo are using rape as a weapon of war against women and children. Yes, I said children. Doctors in eastern Congo have reported witnessing the horrific aftermath of this heinous crime against little ones as young as 12 months old up to a 71 year old woman. These doctors are saying that the occurrence of fistulas has become epidemic.

For those of you wondering what a fistula is, normally it's a rare occurrence of the ripping or tearing of the walls that separate the vagina, bladder, uterus or rectum. If a doctor does see one, it is normally associated with immensely difficult childbirth or in some cases... tremendously violent rapes. In eastern Congo, rape is such an everyday occurrence that many clinics specialize in only helping rape victims. Many staff at such clinics report that this condition has become a common occurrence among the victims they treat, rendering many of them ultimately helpless in their efforts to hold urine because they have been so physically damaged.

A hospital in Congo where almost all the patients are victims of brutal rapes

Besides the physical scars these women and children will carry for the rest of their lives, the psychological torment they endured will leave them crippled in other ways. Many victims are raped simply because they left the safety of their refugee camp to scavenge for wood or food, while others are raped in their own villages, some in front of their families, by drunken soldiers who are so desensitized to this act that the screams of their victims don't phase them anymore.

In a letter written to the U.S. Congress by a group of 44 women who were raped in Sudan, we learn first hand of the horrors they endured (the region they were from as well as their names were removed for safety reasons):

"Messrs. Members of the U.S. Congress,

Peace and the mercy and the blessings of God be upon you. We thank you for your help and for standing by the weak of the world, wherever they are found. We welcome you to the […] region, which was devastated by the Janjaweed, or what is referred to as the government ‘horse- and camel-men,’ on Friday [… 2004], when they caused havoc by killing and burning and committing plunder and rape. This was carried out with the help of the government, which used the […] region as an airport and supplied the Janjaweed with munitions and supplies.

So we, the raped woman of the […] region, would like to explain to you what has happened and God is our best witness.

We are forty-four raped women. As a result of that savagery, some of us became pregnant, some have aborted, some took out their wombs and some are still receiving medical treatment.

Hereunder, we list the names of the raped women and state that we have high hopes in you and the international community to stand by us and not to forsake us to this tyrannical, brutal and racist regime, which wants to eliminate us racially, bearing in mind that 90 percent of our sisters at […] are widows.

[Above] are the names of some of the women raped in the […] region. Some of these individuals are now at […], some are at Tawilah and some are at Abu Shouk camps. Everything we said is the absolute truth. These girls were raped in front of our fathers and husbands.

We hope that you and the international community will continue to preserve the balance of the peoples and nations.

Thank you.
From:
The raped women at […].”

A young patient contemplates her future as a survivor

To think these women have nothing better to pin their hopes on but the international community is painful to hear. Although the U.N. has sent troops, the problem is much larger than what the troops are able to handle at this point. When I think about the scale of what is occurring on a daily basis there in Congo, a feeling of hopelessness starts to overwhelm me, "who is going to help these people?!"

My friends, I remain convinced that such atrocities will long endure the silent, small efforts of the compassionate good, and will unfortunately, continue to exist until Jesus returns, but until then, what can we, the people of America (especially the CHRISTIANS of America) - what can we, the everyday, average Joe's do to put a stop to this?

One thing is for certain - if we all sit on our hands, the only thing that will happen is... nothing.

If it is within our power to do something good to help when we hear of a person or situation who needs our aid, is it not our charge to help? Does it not become a matter of giving up a little of what we want to make someone else's life not only a little more endurable (and by endurable, I mean "bearable enough to desire to live") but most importantly, as Christians, share the Hope we have with the broken, so they can endure and carry on with some sort of joy? Is that not what we are supposed to do?

All we need to do is take one step - that's all... nothing huge... just one small step.

Here's a list of 5 ways we can make a difference. I will be going through this list myself, checking off one thing at a time over the next few months.

5 Ways to Make A Difference

Call! Put a phone call or email in to your congressman and ask him/her to support legislation that will help put an end to the crisis in Congo and help support the victims and refugees
Advocate! Spread the word - spend 15 minutes of your day to read about Congo or Darfur and then talk to other people about it - create awareness - advocate for these precious ones
Volunteer! Donate some of your time with an organization that supports victims
Raise Funds! Host a garage sale, car wash, or take donations for an organization that supports victims
Donate! Remember - even small amounts count! Check out this video and see how this organization supports survivors...

I truly hope you will join me, for the anatomy of a hopeless people is not comprised so much of the selfish gain and insidious evil that attacks from outside of it, but instead, consists of the savage stripping and devastating loss of every precious treasure held dear by those within it.

When I think of the hopelessness these people endure - the woman who just saw her child murdered, the man who just witnessed the raping and mutilation of his wife, the child who is now without a mother and father after witnessing their tortuous deaths, even the solider whose heart is lost in rage and dispair - when I think of these people, I grieve.

But I know, each one can be recovered from that darkness, each one can be reclaimed and reformed into something fresh and new... because I know the Lord of Israel... The Redeemer! And I know He values each and every one of His children as precious treasures.

How much different would the world be if we, as authentic Christ-followers, followed His lead and gave everything we are just to make the world better for even one of the least of these?

End Times, Biblical Prophecy and Today's Headlines

2008-11-11T21:33:00.000-08:00

What does the Bible says about end times?

What role does Israel play in all this?

What does the Bible say about America's role in the last days?

Why do most Christians believe the end of the world is near?

What does the coming together of Russia and Iran mean?

Why do Christ-followers feel, now more than ever, a deep sense of urgency to tell those they love about Jesus?

For those who are looking for answers, this series on biblical prophecy is a great starting point.

For those looking to be freaked out... this is also a great starting point - BUT I hope you'll take a step beyond being weirded-out and ask yourself, is this really true? What if theres something to all this stuff? What if the Bible is right - where does that put me?

So, without further delay, I present one of the most interesting lectures I've heard yet on how today's headlines support biblical prophecy and just what biblical prophecy says in the first place. Enjoy!

Prophecy Series, Part 1

Prophecy Series, Part 2

Prophecy Series, Part 3

Human Trafficking

2008-10-13T22:38:00.000-07:00

Last Friday I had the opportunity to go out to watch a movie called, "Call and Response" - although this is not a clip of the actual movie, it's a large portion of what the movie is about.

I'd like to encourage you to take a couple minutes to watch the below movie and take action by going to www.callandresponse.com.

What's In Your Ear?!?

2008-09-29T21:14:00.000-07:00

We look in Sarah's ears from time to time. No - not that she sticks anything in them (like my great Uncle Lester who actually stuck a bean in his ear during the Great Depression and was so sacred to tell his ma and pa that it actually started to grow...) No... Sarah's ears are very talented at making wax.

Ok, ok - that's a little gross... but when she first arrived, we were so concerned about this wax problem of hers, we were compelled to constantly look in her ears, hoping she could still hear through all the junk in those beauties!

Here's how it would normally go...

"Did you see what fell out of Sarah's ear?!? Look at this!"
"Eweeeee! Grosssssss!"
"That yucky Momma! That Daddy's!"
"Ok, we gotta check to make sure there's nothing else in there!"
"That sounds like a good idea!"
"Ya - yucky in my eeeeaww Momma..."

So we'd scoop her up, plop her on the bed and shine a flashlight in her ear to check things out. Since then, we have been told by various doctors that we shouldn't worry about Sarah's ears; they work very well and are perfectly fine to do what they've always done.

So it was with a bit of surprise that she asked for a flashlight yesterday while we were all three taking a quick afternoon "3-minute" siesta on the bed.

"Momma, I want light... can I have light?"
"Sure honey... what do you want it for?"
"Look Daddy's ewww Momma... look you ewww Momma..."

So she looks in my ear... no comment... then scoots over to Mike on the other side of the bed. As she shines her little flashlight into Mike's ears I have the following conversation with her...

"What are you looking for Sweetie?"
"Ahhh.... I donno..."
"Do you think something is in your Daddy's ear?"

Silence...

"What do you think is in there?"

More silence...

At this point I was studying her little face - she was wearing a very determined look, all the while tugging on Mike's ear and shining that flashlight against his head.

"Momma... Jesus in there Momma?"

I couldn't help but crack-up. She was so serious... looking for Jesus in her Daddy's ear. When we started to laugh, she had no idea what was so funny. She couldn't understand why we were turning red, almost falling off the bed, we were laughing so hard. When I finally answered her, I told her that Jesus could be anywhere He wanted to be, even if it was inside Daddy's ear.

Fast forward 24 hours.

I am sitting, smack dab in the middle of staff prayer (for those of you who don't know, I work for a church). I'm listening to the lead pastors 20-something-year-old son tell me about personal freedom. I was skeptical at first, but he said something to me that echoed in my ears a while, something I've been thinking long and hard about the past few months.

He said, sometimes we think that God doesn't want anything to do with us - that we're so dirty, so far gone that He doesn't want to be near us anymore. Sometimes we think God only wants to be close to those that are close to Him. Sometimes we think we're not good enough to talk to God - or that God won't pay attention to us if we aren't what He wants us to be. But do you really think that is how God feels about you? Do you really think that is why Jesus went to the cross?

I've struggled with those feelings my whole life... the ones that tell me I can only approach Him if I'm clean... I can only talk to Him if I'm in "good spiritual shape." So many times, I've felt like my prayers have hit the ceiling and fallen back on me...

Of course, nothing could be further from the truth. You know why?

Because Jesus likes to be in our ears.

That is not to say He enjoys all the gunk and filth that we sometimes create, but He loves us enough to endure whatever it is we might be going through, just so He can clean us up later on. He endured the cross for me... all my putridity, foul and rotten; all my fetidness, rank and stinking - He took it on Himself... who am I to try to appear clean before Him? The very One who knows every foul, detestable, wretched and dishonorable thing I've ever done... who am I to want to hide myself from Him? I am so thankful He has removed my sins from me as far as the east is from the west... and He thinks of them no more. What grace and mercy on me! He is the only one who can look past my shortcomings, past my ugliness, past my brokenness, to see the person I am in the process of becoming.

You know... we're all dirty ears in some way or another. Mine are just as dirty as yours... maybe even more so.

But regardless of how yicky-icky our ears will get... we can still look for Jesus there - because no matter how dirty they have been, are, or will be... Jesus offers to clean them out for free... all we need to do is ask.

A "Proud Momma" Moment

2008-09-23T21:36:00.001-07:00

Just thought I'd share a "Proud Momma" moment with you... Sarah was featured in the Summer 2008 Edition of Imagine Magazine, a Children's Hospital Los Angeles publication. You can also visit the CHLA website by clicking here, to read the complete magazine.

The Summer edition is about CHLA's global commitment to care for children world-wide and as I got to thinking about this, I started thinking about how wonderful this hospital and their staff have been to us. The doctors there are the real deal and they honestly care about Sarah... she's not a number or a payment to them... they truly care.

Not only did I start thinking about that, but when I think of Sarah's health, I always turn back to China and the people who rescued Sarah to begin with. Dr. Joyce and Robin Hill from the New Hope Foundation (aka, Hope Foster Home) are two of the most amazing people we've ever had the honor to meet and I cannot tell you enough how much they have impacted our lives.

I also think back on all the wonderful people who carried her story to us, prayed for her, volunteered their time and services for her and it softens my heart each time I think about what God did to get her here. I always wonder what He has in store for her, given that the beginning of her life started off with so many obvious "God-moments."

She talks now, non-stop... even stutters a bit because she's trying to say so much so fast that she can't possibly get it all out at the same time. We've been having long conversations about little things, but the most remarkable conversations I've had with her are always about Jesus. She seems to have a keen understanding of who Jesus is - and although we talk about Jesus quite a bit, it's still interesting to me that she brings Him up in conversation a lot - just out of the blue. "Momma, Jesus in your heart? Jesus in Daddy's heart? Momma, Jesus in my heart too. He sleeping in my heart." "Momma, Jesus in car with us? He sitting right there? He buckled?" "Momma, Jesus hold my hand. He hold your hand too?" "Momma, Jesus here? Jesus with us?" And when we sit down to a meal together, many times, it is she that reminds us to pray as she holds out her little hands.

A couple of my most favorite people in the whole wide world!

I think God sends people into our lives to help us grow in our faith... whether it's the nasty ol' lady down the hall who you can't stand because she smells like smoke and is always complaining about something or another... or whether it's the pastor's wife who would bend over backward to help you tie your shoes - they each have a role to play to strengthen and bolster your walk.

Sarah, although only 2 and has no idea of what it means to "grow in your faith," has quickly become a large part of why I need to grow in my faith. She won't be asking me these Jesus questions for long, accepting my answers so readily. One of these days, she's going to answer them for herself and I am quickly learning that the way I react in my most stressful, "everyday" moments with her characterizes who I am in even my most loving "everyday" moments with her. If she can't see Jesus in me when I'm stressed, then seeing Jesus in me when I'm not doesn't mean a whole lot, does it?

A sobering thought for me as I continue to walk down a road plagued by my own human frailities, weaknesses and great imperfections. I only hope that we can teach Sarah as much about grace as we hope to teach her about faith!

Thoughts on... The Fountain of Youth

2008-08-27T21:58:00.000-07:00

"You don't have a Soul. You are a Soul.
You have a body."
- C.S. Lewis

The first time I read that, it struck me, "You know, he's right... I am a soul walking around in a body... I'm wearing my body." What an absolutely strange and slightly uncomfortable thought... "I wear a body..." Gives me the creeps just thinkin' about it! I'm so used to thinking my body is what makes me... well... me.

A dear friend of mine gave me the movie, "What Dreams May Come" a couple Christmas' ago now. It's an interesting movie actually. If you've never watched it, it's about a man and his wife - it's a love story and it takes place on earth, heaven and hell. Basically, they lose their kids to a car accident, then the husband (Chris) is killed in a car accident, after which, the wife is so distraught she commits suicide. As you watch the plot unfold, you see Chris skipping around in the heaven of his dreams and it is there he learns Annie (his wife) has inadvertently stuck herself in her own private hell. When Chris finds out Annie's dead and living a nightmare, he decides he's willing to give up heaven and literally go through hell to go and get her.

Anyhow, there's an "angel" that accompanies Chris on his journey and as I sat there listening to their conversation, there was one segment that particularly struck me. The angel is trying to explain heaven to Chris because Chris doesn't understand (or believe) where he is at first. Chris sees the "angel" do impossible things and the angel tells him he too has these abilities, he just has to let go of what he believes is true (like gravity, breathing, physical limitations, etc.) When Chris is finally convinced he's actually in the Great Beyond, he becomes conflicted about what makes him... him. The angel proceeds to ask him if he thinks it's his brain, and then goes on to point out that his brain is only physical matter... cells, just like the rest of our bodies - does his brain make him who he is, or is it something more? What makes us who we are?

If we really aren't our bodies... if we really are souls that only wear bodies, it makes perfect sense why we want to physically live as long as we can. I think the human race tends to focus on what we see - we see our bodies, we don't see our souls. Sure enough - our bodies eventually wear out and it's 100% a certainty that each one of us is going to buy the farm one of these days (that is, unless we are among the raptured), all because our bodies wear out. But do our souls wear out?

Mortal man has always endeavored to extend life. From the Fountain of Youth to the quest for the Holy Grail to Estee Lauder's Advanced Night Repair - since the beginning of time, humans have been on the lookout for the "magic pill" that will bestow immortality or eternal youth. Why? Why this obsession with life, with youth? You want to know my theory? I think it's because we were created to live on an eternal timeline.

I can't say my theory is scientific - it's not (anything scientific has to be proven scientifically and in order to do that, you have to duplicate an experiment and obtain the same results, which means I'd have to die, live eternally and then come back to tell you I had lived forever, but then, forever is forever, so I'd never be able to come back to tell you because forever doesn't end... to make matters even more mind-boggling, I'd have to do that at least twice in order to claim it as being scientific and since I wouldn't be able to do that even once, well... it'll just have to remain a theory)... but, I want to know, why then is it we all want to live forever? Really, think about it for a minute. What makes almost every single person that has ever lived on planet earth either want to extend their life as long as they can or reverse the degeneration of their bodies?

Of course, people don't come back from being dead and even those who have claimed to have "near death" experiences only have "near death" experiences, not "complete death" experiences... so it's hard for those of us who are left behind to understand what goes on after we die since no one has ever seen it, experienced it, or have come back to tell the rest of us about it. But if you take a look at how we are made, look at the delicate workings of our bodies, at the incomprehensibly complex fashion of how our bodies work, then all roads point to something bigger... something more... something else...

What makes our heart beat? What causes our brains to create thoughts, memories, directives, dreams, hopes, etc.? Like the angel in the movie, is our brain really what makes us who we are, or is it just an incredibly complex piece of physical matter that was created to help direct these bodies we live in? Do we die when our brains no longer function, or are we forced to shed our bodies to travel on to another place?

Scary. Strange. Bizarre. Uncomfortably eerie. Frightening. Yes, I think death looks this way to all of us, to some extent. Crossing into the literal unknown can make even bravest of men fainthearted and cowardly. But therein lies the very reason why we should be actively seeking the Truth: eternity is forever - don't bet against Jesus.

__________________________________________________________

For anyone who is interested, Friends Church in Yorba Linda is hosting a lecture series on Biblical Prophecy this weekend, August 30 and 31, 2008. Topics will include what the Bible says about the end of days, WWIII, and the Anti-Christ.

Log onto http://www.ylfc.org/ for more information.

Thoughts on... what we can learn from our toes

2008-08-19T22:37:00.000-07:00

Ever have a day when you wish you would have just stayed in bed?

You know, those days when the dog wakes you up because it's sick - puking in the corner and when you run over over the put something underneath it to catch it from soiling the carpet, you stub your toe on the bedpost. Yeah, you know what I'm talking about.

From there, it gets better and better. You're late to work, didn't eat breakfast, are half dressed and get into your car to start your daily commute. It's already 100 degrees as you back out of the driveway, reaching for the A/C only to discover - you don't have A/C anymore - so you proceed to roll down your window only to have a bee fly into the car.

After you fail about, giving the bee the worst day of it's life (and incidentally, also causing your neighbor who is watering his lawn to laugh at you hysterically), you proceed to the freeway, with your hair flying in your face, sticking to your lipstick. As you sit at the red light, waiting to turn right onto the on-ramp, the guy behind you starts to lay on his horn, but the sign says, "No turn on red before 8am" so you point to the sign, hoping he understands and, of course, instead, he decides you need a crash course in not-so-creative body language. At this point, you figure, "heck with it!" and proceed to turn right to avoid any more embarrassment and when you finally make it onto the freeway, you're crankier than an old lady with tight underwear. That's when you notice the cop behind you is signaling for you to pull over to give you a ticket for blowing past the "8am" sign. Meanwhile, Mr. Middle Finger cruises past you, laughing hysterically as he goes.

By the time you get to work, you're so far into having a stinky day that everyone skitters out of your way; you and your little black rain cloud make quite a show. And suddenly it dawns on you - it's official: they'd rather hug a kid with a leaking dirty diaper than try to cheer you up.

Ah, yes! Don't you just love those days?

I just had a day like that. It all started in the middle of the night... I had consumed a huge bottle of water a few hours earlier which started it off. I got up, went to the bathroom, came back and proceeded to kick my bed frame with everything my little pinkie toe could muster. After hopping around, doing the "silent scream" dance for 2 minutes, I finally settled back into bed and went to sleep. The next morning I woke up and looked at my toe - it was swollen, didn't feel all that great, but was good enough to walk on, so out the door I went.

Although I didn't participate in any "moving violations"- my whole day seemed to go downhill from there. It wasn't anything big, just lots of little things - the car was almost out of gas, Sarah was asking the same question over and over again, I was late, etc. It was around that time that the pity-party moshers showed and started slamming around the inside of my head. (Some days it's so hard getting those guys to go away!) By the time my day was over, I felt like someone had beat on me - I was mentally worn out. And as I sat on the bed, I pulled off my shoes, then my socks and looked down at my feet and noticed, my pinkie toe (which was now sporting a rich hue of purple and blue) actually looked how I felt emotionally.

Needless to say, it was just my toe and even though it looked as bad as it did - it wasn't broken. The way I whacked that thing, I don't see how it made it through the day without sending up an SOS - but I guess my pinkie toe is much more resilient than I thought it was.

I had to chuckle... I guess there's a lot we can learn from our toes.

Dead Babies or A Pile of Bricks?

2008-07-12T15:43:00.000-07:00

The following is a commentary regarding a comment left for me (in reference to a comment I made during my last post) for the commentary consideration of our comment readers or those who would just like to read this commentary... (no further dry humor in this post... sorry)
_________________________________________________________

"You seem to imply there is something wrong if a babykilling abortion mill is burned or bomb. What do you prefer, dead babies or a pile of bricks? Innocent unborn babies deserve to be protected just as born children deserve to be protected. You would have no problem protecting born children if they were about to be murdered."
_________________________________________________________

Lovely thing: free will... God-made, God-allowed, God-endorsed.

In my limited study of the Bible, I have never read a passage where Jesus Christ forced His way on anyone. God gave everyone free will and thus, the right to make decisions, whether good or bad and as Christ-followers, we are charged to live our lives according to His example. Matter of fact, by Jesus' example, we should love and pray for these people and if we do need to confront them, do so in a respectful, non-judgemental manner. (See John 8:1-11)

Violence/taking matters into your own hands by committing hate crimes against those who seek and/or give abortions also shows a lack of compassion, mercy and grace that is so deeply a part of God's character. The use of violence (or the implementation of the "kill the killers" thought process) to combat abortion is not only merciless and graceless, but it contradicts the moral grounds over which the battle is fought in the first place. It greatly hinders and downright discredits the pro-lifer's argument, which is, in fact, that murder is wrong and immoral.

God tells us in Romans 12:17-21:
Never pay back evil for evil to anyone... Never take your own revenge, beloved, but leave room for the wrath of God, for it is written, "VENGEANCE IS MINE, I WILL REPAY," says the Lord. "BUT IF YOUR ENEMY IS HUNGRY, FEED HIM, AND IF HE IS THIRSTY, GIVE HIM A DRINK…" Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.

That said, I do strongly believe abortion is wrong and I thank Rev. Spitz for breaching this subject with me as it should be a matter of great concern for all Christ-followers. I viewed Rev. Spitz’s blog and although I strongly DISAGREE with his methods of fighting abortion, I do believe abortion is the murder of a child. I saw evidence of the horrific on Rev. Spitz’s blog and it will forever be burned into my memory; explicit photos of late term abortions and for the life of me, I cannot understand why people would think that sucking a child into pieces, ripping a child apart or injecting poison into a child is an ok thing to do. Even a little one at only eight weeks in gestation has developed little arms and fingers. To this point, I fully agree with Rev. Spitz; these are BABIES, not just tissue, not just cells… they are babies that people like me, would have loved to have loved; babies who could have been adopted by families with empty arms; babies that could have lived beautiful, wonderful, and amazing lives.

But the amazing thing about God is that not only does He love and mourn over the innocent victims of abortion, but He still loves and still deeply cares for their moms and dads and the doctors that perform these procedures. Don't get me wrong, God is just as much a God of justice as He is a God of love, but God does not hate people - He hates sin. I can say this with supreme confidence because if God hated sinners, He would never have sent Jesus to us. If God hated sinners, then the very Bible that we Christians base our entire faith on would be a complete and total lie.

For example, John 3:16 tells us:
For God so loved the world, that He gave us His only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in Him, would not perish but have everlasting life.

That means God sent Jesus to everyone on this planet, not just the "sort of good" people... but every people... because every single last one of us "have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." (Romans 3:23)

Who are we to take "justice" into our own hands? Who is to say that the woman who had an abortion yesterday will, five years from now, suddenly realize what she did and confess her sin, repent and turn to Jesus? Who is to say that she will not become an advocate who makes it her life’s mission to change the lives of other mothers who themselves are considering abortions? Who is to say? You? Me? My friends, if she is murdered as she walks out of the abortion clinic, she’ll never have the opportunity to do that. If God were to judge us in the same manner, we'd all be going straight to hell.

Whether it’s abortion, pornography, prostitution, alcoholism, drug addition, stealing, raping, murdering, cheating, lying, hate crimes, etc., or maybe it's something of much less magnitude, we are all sinners - sin is sin to God and God tells us He will administer justice. Jesus never charged Christians to judge or condemn anyone... matter of fact, He calls us to do just the opposite - He calls us to love and be merciful. (Luke 6:32-36)

In Matthew 28:19, Jesus charges us with the Great Commission, which is to “go and make disciples." How are we to do this, if we are intentionally trying to hurt or kill the very people we are trying to reach for Him?

We all, every last single one of us, have fallen short of God’s standard (which is perfection), but the exciting part is there is hope for us! All we have to do is take a hold of Jesus and our pasts, no matter what we have done, no matter what trough, what gutter, what cesspool we’ve struggled through, no matter how bad we are, no matter where we are in our lives - we can be wiped clean - we can start fresh and anew. That is the beauty of who Jesus is and what He has done for us! We don’t have to walk around dirty and foul and used and unwanted!

So, in closing, if you have come to that place in your life where you want something more, if you have come to that place in your life where you want to feel clean, unashamed, and forgiven; if you have come to that place in your life where you want to let go of your anger, your worry, your bitterness, your broken dreams and your broken heart, then talk to Jesus today and tell Him how much you need Him. I guarantee, He’s listening with everything He has within Him.

So ends another light blog from off the fingertips of one who will be shortly looking for something good in the fridge.

I leave you now with one of the most beloved quotes of all time...

"…and that's all I have to say about that..."

The Stuff Dreams Are Made Of... Part 2

2008-07-11T22:55:00.000-07:00

I call them my "supernatural dreams." They don't happen real often. But when they do... let's just say, they make those run-of-the-mill nightmares (like the kind where something is after you and you can't move, or like the kind where you're trying to throw a punch and you can't, or the kind where a big ear keeps falling on you and you can't get it off...) they make those nightmares look like a trip to the Sees Candy store at Easter time (which, actually, is pretty hairy... all those little, geriatric, old ladies with their elbows out, practically running you over to get to the Nuts and Chews...).

I used to have these dreams quite regularly when I was a teenager. Now I have one once every two or three years, but when they do happen, they happen with surprising clarity and vividness. They impact me so much, that when I awake, if I concentrate, I can remember what people were wearing, how they smelled, if there was a breeze, what color the sky was, exactly who I was with, the exact words of my conversations with them, their facial expressions, what was happening in the background, etc. Even more keenly than anything else, I remember the feelings, the emotions and the sharp, abrupt, and cutting sensations of the state of my mental reality once my dream crests.

These reactions are so clear that when I snap myself awake, I am instantly jolted out of my everyday perspective on life and am motivated to think from an eternal point of view. Why? Because these dreams are freaky people! I'm telling you! Just plain bizarroville!

Although they are not necessarily what the Bible actually foretells (sometimes they are a mish-mosh of different biblical events), they all have a couple things in common: they are either about the Rapture or the Second Coming of Christ and in these dreams, I am horrifically panicked that either me, or someone I love has just realized that they will spend an eternity separated from God - from everything good and true and just and loving and calm and peaceful and beautiful and kind and thoughtful and generous and merciful... that we are left to spend the rest of our mournful eternities in the vile, wretchedness of hell where, in the desolation of our black hearts, we are laid bare to everything evil and wicked. It is in that exact moment, in that one eternal instance, I realize that I cannot bridge the chasm that falls away before me, that I won't be able to go back and make things right, that time is gone and I cannot go back, that I had the truth within my grasp and I was too consumed with myself to think of anything (or anyone) else and now, it's too late. Scared isn't the word for the depth of my anguish at these points... to say I was consumed by my frenzied yearnings to turn back time, even if only for one single day, would be a vast, vast understatement and all I feel is an intense pleading that falls into darkness.

I'm outside, enjoying a beautiful day with the sun shining down on my shoulders, watching the clouds move slowly overheard. I look at my hands and at the ground, the sun is so bright, I squint my eyes. I can hear a bird chirping and the noise of distant traffic. There are people walking in a park nearby, enjoying the gentle lift of a summer breeze. I look up again, and gaze at the light blue sky, when freakishly, I see out of the corner of my eye, there is something wrong with the sun… it starts to turn red. I feel the color start to leave my face as I notice, everything has gone quite – there is complete silence in a world where, just ten seconds before was filled with noise. I hear a loud roar, so loud, my hands go instantly to my ears and as I look up, the sky starts to peel back, like a giant hand is unwrapping the world. The clouds are violently sucked into a vacuum and the air rushes around my legs, my arms. The moon flys across the sky as if pulled by an invisible string then disappears from my sight. I look at the ground and pebbles roll frantically away from my feet as if someone is wiping the earth free of clutter. I body shudders violently as I realize what is taking place. Then, trumpets and voices. My hands are still on my ears but I can hear they declaring, "Holy, Holy, Holy..." and then a brilliant light... brighter than the sun, I cannot look at it, I cannot look at it. I look at the ground and at my shaking feet and see there are no longer any shadows, just this brilliant, radiant, all-powerful, light. I am engulfed in sensation, my senses in full arrest as I drop to my knees. I find I don't want to do anything but lay down... my face, my head, my hands on the ground. And then I realize... this is Jesus... He has returned.

Some call it the end of days or the end times... the Bible actually prophecies and promises that certain events and signs will take place in these last days, the days before WWIII, the church's rapture and, like this particular dream, Jesus' second return. Flights of fancy? Old wives tales? Or maybe fairy stories of imaginations run wild... it is a centuries old argument which boils down to faith; however, not a blind faith.

The historicity of the Bible cannot be mistaken and even secular historians agree that Jesus lived. There are hundreds of arguments that have been made regarding the historical accuracy of the Bible. If you'd like to check it out, do a web search. You will find, both secular and Christian historians agree, it the most well-documented ancient text in all of history - the only thing that comes close the to 20,000+ New Testament copies is the 600+ copies of Homer's, The Illiad. But just because we have thousands of copies that are 99% error free (in terms of transcription over thousands of years) doesn't mean it's the truth, right? I couldn't agree more. The Bible is also supported by archaeological evidence (unearthed ancient cities/sites, whose locations and/or destruction's were noted in the Bible, and proven to be true) other secular ancient texts that corroborate the Bible and it's accounts, not to mention biblical prophecy (which we see coming true, for example, the modern Establishment of the State of Israel in 1948). But again, this just proves the Bible is historically accurate... it doesn't necessarily prove that Jesus was God.

The real question is not whether Jesus lived (as again, this is not disputed amongst reputable historians, secular or Christian), the real question is whether Jesus is who He said He is, and whether this book - the Bible - is the infallible, inerrant, and perfect Word of God.

Now the rubber meets the road. We know the Bible is historically accurate, but what about Jesus' claim to Deity? Was Jesus really God?

Some believe Jesus was a good person, but not God. If that is the case, then He must have been either a liar or pretty loopy because you either really believe you're God (and you're crazy) or you don't but you say you do (then you're just a big liar). But one has to question, if Jesus really was a liar, why would He die for a lie? Would you be willing to endure hours of the foulest torture and humiliation in front of all your loved ones, then be willingly nailed to a cross to die for a lie? I mean, seriously, think about it... think about it.

Another point to ponder: why would 11 of His 12 disciples die horrible martyrs deaths (stonings, crucifixions, spearings, etc.) in defense of their faith? Would 11 men knowingly, willingly, die for a lie? or a wacko, crazy person claiming to be God? Why would they all run and hide (before and during His crucifixion) then turn into men who were willing to be martyred for their faiths if they had not believed and seen Jesus resurrected?

This is just the tip of the "pondering" iceberg when it comes to whether the Bible is valid or not. But don't take it from me... check it out yourself... do some searching - see what you come up with and then make a decision for yourself. If you'd like to know more about what the Bible says about the end days, I have included a series at the very bottom of this blog page about biblical prophecy. It's a fascinating look at what the Bible says about the days we live in and how the stage is being set in the middle east.

For those of you who are interested, there is something called Prophecy Weekend at Friends Church on August 30th and 31st, 2008 where Phil Hotsenpiller will be speaking on what the Bible says about the end times. Pretty interesting stuff. You can visit http://www.ylfc.org/ in late July for more information.

In closing, I know many are offended by even the mention of Jesus. Many are repulsed by the "closed-mindedness," "naivety," "ignorance" or some even say "hatred" of Christians today. And I would tend to agree, Jesus wouldn't bomb abortion clinics, Jesus wouldn't call people names and tease them about their sexual orientation, Jesus wouldn't ask for money in a child's name and then spend it on a big house or a fancy car, Jesus wouldn't pass a poor person without offering them food, water, or love. No, Jesus wasn't like that at all. But I think people start thinking that Jesus was all love and no opinion, which isn't true. Jesus was very opinionated and He told people exactly what He thought about the sin they allowed in their lives. Why? Because sin is what separates us from Him.

And more and more Christ-followers are starting to feel a great need to communicate this with their loved ones - maybe it's because we see things starting to come together in terms of biblical prophecy - or maybe it's an internal clock that all believers have... I don't know. All I do know is this: I don't want any of my family or friends to experience the coming reality that I sometimes dream about. I don't want my family and friends thinking, why didn't she say anything, why didn't she tell me? I don't want to be separated from my friends, from my loved ones and more than anything, I don't want them to be separated from my Lord.

Is the Bible true? Is Jesus for real? or is this all just one big, whooped up story?

You must decide for yourself.

...just remember, eternity is a long time to be sorry for not making the right decision when you had the chance.

The Stuff Dreams Are Made Of... Part 1

2008-06-19T23:22:00.000-07:00

Ever since I can remember, I've had dreams of a spiritual nature.

As a little tot (not the tater kind, thank you very much), I remember my exhausted parents patiently carrying me around our pool table in the middle of the night. They would hold me, rock me, quietly sing to me, tell me everything was alright, that there was nothing wrong. I remember them saying my name, trying to quiet my inconsolable sobbing. No, no... I hadn't watched Gremlins yet (just don't ever try to "water" my stuffed animals) and yes, I did have a pretty active imagination as a kid, but all these things were pretty much inconsequential because the nightmares that would send me into this state had nothing to do with anything visual. They were all about feeling.

The only visual thing I can remember about these dreams, was an empty rocking chair on a porch. That's it. Nothing more. Just an empty rocking chair, eerily rocking back and forth as if someone had suddenly jumped out of it and left in a rush. As I could look at the chair, there would be a feeling of complete and total safety, serenity, and peace... then, suddenly, it was ripped away from me by some unknown force - something that grated, something that writhed, something that twisted and hardened, something foul... something evil. To this day, I can recall those feelings and they still give me the hebejeebees... (and yes, that is spelled correctly).

Thankfully, those nightmares departed with my childhood, however, it wasn't long before they were replaced by a different sort of dream.

But before I get to the "freaky" dream section of this blog, before I tell you about the dreams that still leave me wide awake in the middle of the night wanting my mom and dad (ok, ok - maybe it's not that bad), before I tell you about how I snap awake to feel my heart trying to beat it's way right out of my body, before I tell you about how I have to peel my shaking body away from the sweat soaked bed sheets, before I tell you about any of that, I'm going to tell you why I think I have these dreams.

Ok - here goes... don't freak on me now - I'm going to tell you a secret: I'm supernatural.

There, I said it.

Yes, you read it right; I just told you... I'm supernatural.

Ok, there go the eyes... they're rolling so much they might as well pop out of your head and take a trip down to the supermarket.

No really, I'm dead serious: I am supernatural... and... so are you.

Don't believe me? Mr. Webster!? Mr. Webster! Mr. Webster - there you are, if you would please?

su·per·nat·u·ral: of or relating to an order of existence beyond the visible observable universe

Precisely, couldn't have defined it better myself; thank you Mr. Webster. Oh, and Mr. Webster, by the way, I just ran spellcheck on your definition and the word "visible" was misspelled. Gotta get on that you know - people are relying on you!

So where were we? Oh yes - supernatural!

We are all supernatural in the sense that we relate to an order beyond the visible. Don't agree with me? Ok, let's break it down:

What makes your heart beat? Yes, yes, you can tell me it's all those wonderful little cells with their little nuclei comprised of with their busy little protons, neutrons, electrons, molecules, atoms, thingamagigs, and bobamathings, working in combined tandem all the way from your brain, through down to your chest, making that single "ba-bump", but break it down further than that - where do all these microscopic particles get their marching orders from? What generates the energy at the core of a cell?

Ok - let's take that thought a little deeper (for those of you who haven't had any brain food yet today, I suggest you go and get some Rocky Road ice cream... the almonds will help); what generates my thought process? I want to type, "hello" with one "o" instead of two... what generates that decision? It's not my fingers or even the cells in my brain that create the desire to hit my "o" key only once - it IS my brain cells that signal my fingers to carry out and execute this task, but again, they do NOT create the order, they only follow it... so what gives? (If you didn't eat your Rocky Road ice cream today, you're probably shrugging your shoulders right about now. Haven't a clue, do you!? See just how important those little almonds are?!)

There just doesn't seem to be any "scientific" explanation of this process... the process of creation.

So, now that you've been completely awed by my advanced knowledge of the cellular world, (ok, ok, so go talk to a biomed doctor who knows this stuff at the atomic or molecular level - yeash! I'm not that supernatural!), I think you get the idea... sometimes we just have to admit that there are things out there that science just cannot explain. For instance, why in the world doesn't everyone like The Three Stooges? I mean, they're all good looking, have great senses of humor, could clock anyone within arms distance at any given moment... what's not to like?!

Really though... science just can't cover all the bases because science is man-made and man has limitations. Science is limited to experiments proven (or disproven) by the scientific method, the purpose of the which is to test a hypothesis via repeatable experimental observations in an effort to record factual information.

So, if we run with this, we wouldn't be able to say that Napoleon ever lived, or that George Washington actually cut down a cherry tree when he was a little squirt (actually, he really didn't axe that tree - sorry to disappoint - this was a 17th century fabrication). We just can't duplicate these characters - man and science have limitations.

Of course, we have no doubt that both Napoleon and ol' George were actual historical figures, that's because we have reliable historical proof from numerous sources that vouch, verify and confirm their existence. We have historical proof of the conquests of Alexander the Great (who pre-dated Christ by over 300 years) and yet, even with all the historical and archaeological evidence (not to mention prophetic evidence that we continue to see be fulfilled at an ever-quickening pace) that validates the Bible, people still have trouble believing that Christ was who He said He was and that the Bible is really true.

But what does any of this have to do with my dreams? What does evidence of "the unexplainable" functions of being, the lack of evidence from science, and the proof of history have to do with my dreams?

Golly... at this point... I wish I could tell you, but I have to stop now to go eat some brain food! (I just love those little marshmallows!)

Until next time... take care and don't forget to eat your vegetables!

Please Pray for the Chapman Family

2008-05-22T23:34:00.000-07:00

Please pray for the Chapman family. Without them, our adoption of Sarah would not have been possible; we would have never known she existed.

-Mike and Kim

The Chapman Family from left to right: Will Franklin, little Maria, Steven, Shaoey, Mary Beth, Stevey Joy, Caleb and Emily

NASHVILLE, TN...5/21/08... At approximately 5pm on the afternoon of Wednesday May 21st, Maria Sue Chapman, 5 years old and the youngest daughter to Steven and Mary Beth Chapman was struck in the driveway of the Chapman home in Franklin, TN. Maria was rushed to Vanderbilt Childrens Hospital in Nashville, transported by LifeFlight, but died of her injuries there. Maria is one of the close knit family’s six children and one of their three adopted daughters.

More than five years ago, Chapman and his wife MaryBeth founded The Shaohannah’s Hope Ministry after bringing their first adopted daughter, Shaohannah, home from China. The ministry’s goal is to help families reduce the financial barrier of adoption, and has provided grants to over 1700 families wishing to adopt orphans from around the world. Chapman is a five-time GRAMMY ® winner and 54-time Dove Award winning artist who has sold over 10 million albums and garnered 44 No. 1 singles.

The Chapman family is so grateful for the incredible outpouring of love and support at this difficult time.

If you’d like to meet Maria and express your condolences, please click here.

By mail, send to PO Box 150156 Nashville, TN 37215.

In lieu of flowers, the Chapmans request any gifts be directed to Shaohannah’s Hope.

Thoughts on... Zhengzhou

2008-01-06T15:19:00.000-08:00

As we walked toward our guide, Johnson, one of the first things he mentioned was that we may need a bigger car... we still had a ton of luggage with us as we were still trailing items for the orphanage along with gifts we had for the team at Hope Foster Home in Jiaozuo.

We hauled our bit outside where Mr. Wong, our driver, was waiting in his sleek, brand new black Buick. I'm not sure how they did it, but they crammed every last piece we had into that car... poor Johnson, had to practically sit with his knees in his chin, while Mike had to sit almost sideways for the entire hour or so to our hotel.

The view of the street below from our hotel.

During the ride, Johnson tried to talk to Sarah in Chinese, asking her questions to see if she understood. For the most part, she just sat there listening to him with a slightly puzzled look on her little face... I'm guessing that the sounds were very familiar to her, which made her somewhat curious, but for the most part, she didn't respond, although, when you tell her "hello" in Chinese, she will wave to you.

Once we arrived at the hotel (The Holiday Inn Express in Zhengzhou), we were able to unload the car, and freshen up a bit. After that, it was picture time! Sarah needed photos taken for the adoption certificate and paperwork, so Mr. Wong drove us down the street a bit to a local photography studio where they took some quick shots of her. It was neat to see the guy color-correct the photos (I've never seen Photoshop in Chinese before!) and about 1/2 hour later, we were out the door, in the car, and passing the first and only fender-bender we would see while we were in China (which is pretty amazing knowing how the Chinese drive!).

We beat it back to the hotel early to get some rest and decided we wouldn't be too adventurous and had dinner in the hotel cafe. Even at that, without Johnson, ordering food was difficult and we mainly pointed to what sounded good... hoping it wasn't anything we couldn't stomach. We had a good meal that night of beef and noodles and steamed buns and Sarah seemed to really enjoy it. She loves noodles and it was pretty obvious she felt right at home with the cooking.

We woke up the next morning, ready to eat some "westernized" food at the buffet in the hotel cafe, but upon cruising around the dishes, we noticed that chow mien noodles were as "western" as they were going to get! So we wound up eating dough sticks (like a donut without the glaze or sugar coating), pot stickers, chow mien, fried rice and watermelon. Sarah was content to stick with watery yogurt sprinkled with rice krispies and then we were off. Later that night, we decided going next door to the buffet at the adjoining 5-star hotel, the Sofitel, was a much better bet when it came to western food.

The Sofitel buffet, where we ate dinner for all but one or two days in Zhengzhou.

We thought the city of Zhengzhou was beautiful. We loved the weather (which felt about a cool 30-40 degrees the entire time we were there) and the people there were warm and friendly. Of all the cities we visited in China, Zhengzhou was the one we enjoyed the most - maybe it's because we were able to spend so much time there and Johnson and Mr. Wong were both wonderful and fun to be around.

We had an appointment with the local CCAA office, where we signed the paperwork for Sarah. We weren't sure how they would view us as we had been told, only a short time before, that they were unaware Sarah was already with us... so we weren't sure how they would receive us. Needless to say, our fears were completely unfounded as the meetings and visits with them were most heartfelt and although I told myself I wasn't going to cry, I wound up doing it anyway. It was a surreal moment, with Johnson interpreting - the words he translated were so deeply touching and the official who spoke them was so warm and sincere... what an experience.

We completed our paperwork there but were due back later in the day, so we went to the park across the street to kill some time. There we saw and heard the most wonderful sights and sounds. Down by the lake, were little pagodas where traditional musicians were playing their instruments. As we walked, I almost felt transported to the past as I listened to the notes. There was a deep sense of history in that place - you could feel it hanging in the air. Over the bridge, in a small tree covered plaza, two old women were moving slowly and gracefully, their Tai-Chi movements were smooth and patient, beautiful yet striking, as they wielded long swords, which expertly sliced through the air.

A park in Zhengzhou - very clean, beautiful!

As we walked, Sarah decided to sit on a dirty wall next to some older folks who immediately yelled something in alarm in Chinese. Turns out, they were all sitting on cushions - you don't sit directly on dirt in China - at least not when you have a cushion to use. And so, at their animated urging, Sarah sat on one of their cushions, seemingly unaffected by their loud vocalizations, swinging her little feet back and forth, tipping her head this way and that to the one lone instrument being played at the waterside not too far away.

It was truly amazing to watch her - I do believe she understood what they were telling her and unlike her reactions to strangers in California, her reaction to these people was one of familiarity; she didn't look at them oddly, nor did she look to me or Mike to comfort her, but instead just took the cushion and summarily sat on it. After several minutes of conversation, Johnson told us he had explained who we were and what we were doing with Sarah and their "ahhhhs!" and "oooohhhhs!" which was accompanied by a bunch of head-nodding seemed to peak the moment. They watched and marveled at her for quite as while as she was very content to sit on her cushion and smile at them.

This moment was the first of several in China where I felt so acutely aware of my ethinicity around Sarah, as if I were an outsider to her. She was in the country of her birth, a native of this mysterious place who shared in its history, its people and its customs; we were just visitors from another land far away, who were markedly out-of-place.

After our final meeting and official adoption of Sarah, Johnson asked if we'd like to use to facilities, and although I went in, I decided very quickly, that I wasn't brave enough to try. You see, in China, the facilities are quite different than in the States, and for the life of me, I couldn't figure out how to use them without taking half of my clothes completely off! It was rather funny as I stood in the stall, looking down at what looked like a men's urinal embedded into the floor, trying to surmise exactly how one goes about this function without wetting one's self! Needless to say, although the Chinese invented toilet paper and modern day upright toilets, both were in short supply outside the hotels.

Typical toilet - if you plan to visit China - it's a good idea to practice before you travel!

We stayed several days in Zhengzhou. It took us only 3 days to finalize all of Sarah's paperwork and Johnson mentioned that was the quickest he'd ever seen it done. God blessed us with a quick and extremely smooth finish to our adoption process.

We were also able to find out that Sarah was abandoned near the gate of the orphanage when she was only a day or so old. They told us that whoever had left her there had wanted her adopted or they wouldn't have left her in that particular location. It made me sad to think of her biological mom - somewhere out there, wondering what had happened to her little baby.

We were also able to visit the Jiaozou facility of Hope Foster Home, where Sarah actually had stayed for most of her life (but I will leave this for another post) and that visit was something I will never forget as long as I live. More on this later.

We did notice right away that we were somewhat of a visual oddity to the people of Zhengzhou. I don't remember seeing any non-Chinese expect for one man at our hotel who was speaking a European language that I couldn't make out. We were treated like celebrities inside the hotel and once we ventured outside, people would stare in curiosity. I can remember asking Johnson if anyone else used strollers in Zhengzhou and he laughed and shook his head... everyone carried their children.

Johnson and Mr. Wong took us sightseeing for the rest of our time there - we had four days just to kick around and explore and they took us to the Imperial Palace and Millennium City Park in Kaifeng, Longmen Grottos in Luoyang, the Shaolin Temple and Pagoda Forest on Song Shan Mountain, a hovercraft ride on the Yellow River, and finally to the Henan Provincial Museum in Zhengzhou. Johnson also took us to a couple of local restaurants and a couple shopping malls, which was interesting.

The Imperial Palace and Millennium City Park were amazing. Only in movies have I seen such grand and gilded places. It was like taking a step back into time. As we moved throughout our visits, Johnson would never be too far away, telling us the importance of what we were looking at. Why the lake on the right side of the palace is considered good - a place to swim, a place to fish and a place to relax, while the lake on the left side of the palace is considered unlucky - so unlucky, they even prevent the fish from swimming into to by partitioning it off with nets.

Our trip to the Imperial Palace with Johnson who took care of Sarah a lot of the time.

My favorite photo of Sarah and Mike in China, at the Imperial Palace.

At Millennium City Park, we were able to see what an ancient "polo" match looked like - where men and women on small horses zoomed around an arena. We watched an ancient wedding ceremony, walked over a rainbow bridge, and purchased a few items for Sarah to give to her when she is older.

Stepping back into time at Millennium City Park

We were also able to visit the Longmen Grottos where centuries of limestone carvings are now on display as a national treasure. (Side note - I was so proud of myself - I actually got up the gumption to use the facilities there!) Johnson stayed with Sarah as mom and dad trekked to the top of the long (and sometimes very steep and scary) staircases which took you up for a closer look into caves and grottos filled with thousands upon thousands of carvings.

Longmen Grottos - note all the other niches in the hillside

We also visited the Shaolin Monastery where we were able to see the Shaolin disciples perform incredible feats of strength, agility, speed, and surprising gracefulness. To see these people break past the normal limitations of what the human body can do was mind-boggling, yet, although they performed with all kinds of weapons on-stage, they are a peaceful people, and we were told that the monks had only utilized their fighting prowess to protect the monastery on select occassions through the centuries.

One of the most visually stunning places I have ever seen - the Shaolin Monastery.

It was during our visit to the monastery that Mike decided to purchase a sword, so Johnson took him to the sword smith, whose store was off the beaten path. We took a quick 3-minute walk to the shop, which was situated on the outer edge of a small courtyard, surrounded by the disciples barracks. As I looked around, I could see socks, shoes and pants hanging on thin lines between bunk beds, the paint of years gone by, worn and scrapped off the door posts, the musty smell of sweat and dirt swirling in our nostrils as boys, only 8-10 years old were being drilled into carrying a several hundred pound carpet above their heads only several feet away.

Sarah just laughed and giggled - she looked like a little pink marshmallow in her winter jacket, throwing her hands up in the air and stepping clumsily on the cobblestones under her feet. We hadn't been standing there long, when a young man came out of one of the barracks. He must have been in his early twenties, his head completely shaved, a thin layer of simple clothing... a Shaolin disciple. He took an intense interest in us and as he looked at me (obviously American) and then at Sarah (obviously Chinese), he proceeded to speak slowly and softly, with a warm smile. Of course, I hadn't a clue to what he was saying, but his eyes were so kind and his manner so mild and gentle that I didn't really care.

He stayed with us for 10 to 15 minutes or so, asking questions in Chinese, both of us trying to figure out what the other way saying and after a while, he picked up Sarah. He held her for a long time, as if he knew she had been an orphan and talked to her like a big brother would talk to a little sister. After a while, he kissed her on the cheek, then very meekly, put his prayer beads around her little wrist and smiled at me, hoping we would accept his gift. From the looks of our surroundings, I could tell these men, some only little boys, were submersed in a lifestyle that was far from lavish, and as he gave those beads to Sarah, I thought to myself, I wonder if that is all he owns in the world besides the clothing on his back. I felt a deep sense of sadness as I wondered about who he was and how he came to be at the monastery... it seemed such a lonely existence; he seemed so desperate to be around us, wanting to communicate with us so badly. He left us a little while later, reluctant to leave, glancing back at us as he walked away.

We then visitied the Pagoda Forest which was a short walk away from the monastery. In these tall monuments, the ashes of important men were encased, some having survived hundreds of years of natural deterioration, defacing and warfare. It truly looked like a forest as most were scores of feet tall (the taller the more important the man).

After touring the rest of the Monastery and Pagoda Forest, Johnson took us to a place where they served all vegetarian feasts, as the monks believe in karma and meat is forbidden. The food was absolutely delicious and here we learned yet another piece of Chinese culture - when you are eating such a meal, the soup is served last, and a gracious guest will drink the soup to show thankfulness and honor to the host.

The next and last day in Zhengzhou, we toured the Henan Provincial Museum, where Johnson related the importance of many of the historical artifacts there on display. We were able to view one of the Terracotta Warriors (on loan to the museum) as well as numerous other national treasures.

Here we also learned that Sarah had become somewhat of an overnight star as when we passed by, we could hear people whispering her name. When we questioned Johnson about this, he mentioned our interview with the local Jiaozou newspaper had been picked up and published in one of the countries largest newspapers, with a circulation in the millions. How our God works... using a little orphan to tell the story of His love for us!

The Henan Provincial Museum

Afterwards, Johnson treated us out to a beautiful restaurant and ordered Hot Pots for us all - talk about a feast! There were several different kinds of mushrooms alone, along with pork, chicken, beef, a variety of vegetables you don't see in the states, along with some of the best sesame dipping sauce and noodles I've ever had! I'm drooling just thinking about it... thank you Johnson!

Last that night, after we said goodbye to Johnson and Mr. Wong, we took a trip down to the local mall to do some shopping and as we entered the grocery store, noticed the staff there was whispering and pointing... one of the girls approached us and pointed to Sarah, asking, "Chen Chen?" We nodded and they all gathered around. None of them spoke English and we only knew a few words of Chinese, but we had a good time. The same thing happened as we went upstairs to the "mall" portion of the building, and we were offered discounts and special help by the staff as we used sign-language to communicate with them. The people of Zhengzhou were very gracious and warm and we will never forget their hosptiality.

The next day, we flew out of Zhengzhou, leaving behind our new friends and a part of Sarah's past. She was no longer an orphan... she was our daughter and together, we looked forward to the next leg of our trip - the journey to Guangzhou.

Sarah and Johnson pose for one last picture together in Zhengzhou International.

Thoughts on... The flight to Zhengzhou

2007-12-20T22:03:00.001-08:00

So the flight to Zhengzhou was a little different. We had never been on a domestic flight in China before and had assumed it worked pretty similarly to domestic flights in the U.S.... and for the most part it did, that is, if we would have looked at our tickets! But I'm getting ahead of myself... let me tell you about our trip to the airport first!

We were late. We had spent too much time gabbing and we were late (for those of you that know us really well, that probably doesn't surprise you too much). We had said a very rushed but heartfelt good-bye to Robin and Joyce and had loaded ourselves into the van to be taken to the airport. The man that was driving must have either been a staff member and/or friend of the Hill's and he seemed very amiable and I'm sure we would have enjoyed conversing with him immensely had we been able to speak Mandarin (which I am determined to do next time we go to China, so I am currently looking for a tutor or class I can take).

We were about 10 minutes down the road when he received a phone call. He handed the phone to Mike and I could tell by the "ahhhhh!" and the wincing on his face that we had left something important behind... Sarah's medications. Now before you go off on us, "You forgot her medication?! What kinda parents are you guys anyways?!" let me tell you they have to be refrigerated and in our rushed state to leave Hope Foster, out of sight was truly out of mind. So the driver made a quick u-turn and sped back to Hope, where we were handed our meds at the gate (plus a charger we had left in the socket) and then, proceeded down the same road at least double the speed we had been going before.

Now, the day before, Robin had driven us to Hope, and we had our first taste of "driving" in China - people just kinda do whatever... and sometimes red lights are just suggestions. Although we laughed the whole entire way to Hope, we were amazed at how the Chinese drive! Mixed in with the cars are bicycles, scooters, buggies, etc. and they all just go where ever they want, when ever they want and if you want to pass them, you use the shoulder, the other side of the road, you beep and flash your lights and then beep some more - you get the picture. Robin was telling us when he first started driving in China, he learned very quickly not to stop for cyclists... and he said on two different occasions, he had stopped and the people were so surprised, they fell off their bikes! You see, in China, everything is timed... and you keep peddling (either slower or faster) as you turn so you barely make it past the cars bumper without losing any momentum, then you start peddling again. So it was pretty funny hearing that people fell off their bikes because he was trying to be considerate.

But back to our trip to the airport... so we were zig-zagging back and forth, beeping and honking, speeding up, slowing down, moving this way and that as the driver knew we were about to miss our flight. Sarah was having a great time - she laughed and giggled... every time he would honk his horn, she would say, "beeeeeep!" and it was hard not to laugh at her. We passed a mule pulling a produce cart, his driver whipping him to try to make him go faster (at that point, I stopped feeling sorry for all the horses in America - these animals had to work for their food and even at that - from the looks of him, it looked like there was precious little of that to go around) and then we saw something that really made us laugh... a huge construction truck stopped directly in the middle of an intersection, the passenger and the driver got out... switched sides and got back into the truck and drove away - aka - the Chinese fire drill!

Once we arrived at the airport, we all piled out of the van, rushing to haul out the bags, get them onto the carts, get the carry-on's, oh and get the baby... then run into the terminal, find our gate - wait for our guide...

"What?!? Our guide?" (in English)

"Yes - the guide you told us about when we left..." (in Chinese)

"Oh! We thought everyone was talking about our guide once we get to Zhengzhou - no, he'll be in Zhengzhou... not here! We don't have a guide here - the guide is at the other airport!" (gesturing in English)

"What?" (in Chinese)

"The o-t-h-e-r a-i-r-p-o-r-t..." (in English)

"Oh!!!! The other airport! Then let's find out where to check your bags! Hurry!" (in Chinese)

"Over here - I see a place! It says Air China!" (in English)

(Given, this was happening in seconds and we were all speaking so fast and crazy and in different languages that we must have been communicating through some sort of amazing mind-reading. I have no idea how we understood each other enough to all run in the same direction at the same time, little less actually accomplish getting us to the plane!)

So off we went, running down the terminal - to the 1st class check in of China Air. When we arrived, the looked at us like we were 2nd class passengers speaking English or something... so it was a good thing we had someone who spoke Chinese! After a very fluid exchange of words, they checked our bags... except for the over-sized ones... (that wonderful car seat we all grew so fond of on this trip) so again....

"Where do we go now? I have no idea what you're saying..." (in English)

"Over here! I have no idea of what you just said..." (in Chinese)

"Ok - let's run!!" (not spoken, but understood)

And off we went. At this point, I was hefting Sarah (and for those of you who have held Sarah, it is fare to say, "I hefted her") and as I was huffing and puffing and running along, she started to giggle. Oh, how she giggled! She giggled all the way to China - or at least to the over-size baggage check area. She thought it was very funny to see Mommy all red-faced and wheezing and when you add the motion of jogging up and down - man! that was better than a full hour of Elmo!

Once we had checked the car seat, we moved on through security where we said our final goodbye to our driver. Without him, we would have missed our flight and so, when we thanked him profusley and told him in Chinese, "thank you - thank you - thank you" and we shook his hand warmly, and waved goodbye once we cleared the metal detectors. We left each other with smiles - I think we were all amazed, good-heartedly amused and very relieved to have gotten so far so fast... and after talking about it, felt very blessed by that experience and this man. Who says almost missing a flight isn't fun?!

So, here we go again - running.... running... running... jogging... jogging... walking real fast... walking real... walk... wa... stopping... cramping...

We tried to run the rest of the way to our gate (ok, ok, I said tried... I guess it was more like a real fast limp), and Sarah was still giggling - the little stinker... when she gets older, she'll have to carry me - then we'll see who's laughing! We ran only to find out we needed to take a bus to take us out to the plane, which was already being boarded on the taxiway.

Upon entering the plane, we single-filed all the way to the back, where our seats were, only to find out that they weren't our seats... but rather, our "seat" - one seat actually... the other two seats were at the front of the plane - directly in back of a bunch of cranky Chinese people crammed together like sardines that we'd been holding up! So me and Sarah got a good look at the back galley while they rearranged some things and several minutes later, we were all enjoying the flight side-by-side in our newly reassigned seats. Whew! We made it! (Gives me a rush just thinking about it!)

Now - I had been told by a very reliable source NOT to eat the food on the plane. "It may be dog, it may be cat... it just doesn't look like any kind of meat I've ever had... just don't eat it." This person had also endured the foul affects of food poisoning in China, so bad that it almost did him in, and by all means, I was intending to avoid that experience, so I didn't eat the snack (which was a flaky, chewy, dough-like roll with an odd meat in the middle). Mike kept telling me it was pork (and I did try a little bit of it - but wasn't convinced it was anything I'd ever had) and he was actually really enjoying it, but with my overactive imagination, all I could think about were furry, happy-go-not-so-lucky dogs and cats (thanks a lot Stuart!). Thanks, but I think I'll stick to my pretzels and 7-Up.

We touched down in Zhengzhou a little less than two hours later and were one package of peanut butter crackers, one juice, two soft drinks, and one bun-wrapped weird-meat-thingy heavier than when we took off. We maneuvered with ease through the checkpoints and out to the general terminal where there were hundreds of people awaiting their family, friends, and guests. Among them, Johnson, our guide, held up a small sign with the name "Michael Barrett" written on it.

We had arrived. And unbeknownst to us, the next several days were sure to become some of the most memorable we'd ever experience... as soon, Sarah would be officially ours... and millions of people would know it.

Thoughts on... Beijing and Hope Foster Home

2007-12-18T20:31:00.000-08:00

On December 1st, we decided we'd better start packing for our trip. Like true procrastinators, we had left packing to the last minute (although to be truthful, our schedules hadn't gelled for the past week and we had wanted to pack together - which is why we really waited) and were now in "greased lightening" mode trying to get it done.

We were to leave at 1:30 am on December 2nd to take a shuttle to LAX and Mom and Dad had come down to help us pack and see us off. We all worked through the night, trying to fit everything into our 6 suitcases and our 6 carry-on bags. You see, we were carrying a lot more than just our own clothing...

My sister Julie had been so moved by the Hope Foster Home website and the little faces she saw there, that she had contacted Rebecca Dorris to donate some items to Hope (Rebecca collects medical supplies and clothing for the children at Hope Foster Home and sends them with travelers/adoptive parents who are going to China) and she had mentioned Chen Chen's name to her. Turns out, Rebecca remembered Chen Chen and after Julie put us in contact with her, we offered to take anything she had with us. So she shipped us a large box full of medical supplies, clothing and other items, which was one of the reasons why we carried so much luggage. We also had other items we were to donate to the orphanage, plus our own gear, so when all was finally done, there wasn't much space left over for anything else - we were completely loaded.

So when 1am rolled around, we waved goodbye to Mom and Dad as we loaded ourselves into the shuttle. It had been a while since we'd taken such a long trip! We had never traveled internationally together (only to Mexico) and we were so excited - we were off on our first adventure together - we were going to China!

Our shuttle driver was nice, and we talked to him the majority of the way to the airport. We told him all about Hope Foster Home and the work they do, the orphans and how we came by Sarah. We also told him about her condition and how the Lord had worked so powerfully in her little life and by the time we pulled into LAX, he paused to tell me "only God could have done this..." and for a moment, we shared of a deeper understanding of the truth together - we were only on our way to China because God had made the way for us.

It's amazing to see the responses people have when we talk to them about the plight of these little ones. Most are superficial reactions, and that is ok because we don't expect everyone to feel as deeply about this as we do, but there are some who really seem to take it to heart. I suppose this is the reason why I talk about these children so much, because I know there are other people who care out there... they just might not know it yet. Not only that, but I know there are millions of other "Sarah's" all around the world who are desperately waiting for their chance to have a forever family and they don't care if you're poor, they don't care if you're ugly, they don't care if you're fat or old or don't have your finances in order or have bad teeth or no hair (actually, they might like playing with your head if you don't have any hair) - they just want someone to love them. (Ok - that was my best shot - if you've been moved, please raise your hand and pass the chicken.) So any chance we have to spread the word, our mouths kick into overdrive, hoping that the person we're talking to might be as affected as we are and somehow join the battle.

Once we unloaded our bags, we had 4 hours to wait until our flight started boarding. The airport reminded me of a ghost town... all it needed were tumbleweeds (and, or course the "do-da-do-da-doooo... waa-wa-waaaaaaa" music). There weren't many people there at 2:30am... and the ones that were there were not vertical when we arrived - some were slumped, some had managed to become human rubber and lay over and under the chair armrests, and my personal favorite - one brave soul was camped out on the cold, hard floor, snooring in his sleeping bag. (At that point, I began thinking to myself, which is never good for me to do at 3am, but I was thinking, "we've packed everything else... how come I forgot the sleeping bag!!?") I was seriuosly thinking about kicking that guy as I walked by him... nobody should be able to sleep that well in an airport... nobody!

The time seemed to pass quickly enough and after a hectic trip through security, we soon realized that hauling 6 carry-on's - plus a car seat was a little over the top. We made it to San Francisco and boarded our connecting 11.5 hour flight to Beijing at 7:00 a.m. The flight was smooth and uneventful, however, we discovered that sticking Sarah in the car seat for any more than an hour at a time made everybody cranky... not just her!

Me and Sarah on the leg to Beijing - note her little face... it's one of those "I'll try to smile but I'm not having that much fun" faces!

Just when little Miss Squirmy started to make her grand appearance after having to be bucked down for the landing, we thankfully left international flights behind us for the next 13 days and proceeded, without incident, through all the check points and into the general departure area to find the most warm and welcome sight: Robin Hill of Hope Foster Home.

Robin isn't one of those guys that's hard to like and we immediately felt at ease with him. He's so warm and funny, so down-to-earth and kind - it is easy to see why the Lord has chosen him for such an important task of taking care of these little ones.

He graciously took our baggage cart and loaded us into the van and once outside the airport, we had our first look at China through the hub of Beijing. It was absolutely gorgeous - both me and Mike were surprised at how beautiful it was. I guess with everything you hear about pollution and industrialization and how the cities are so crowded, we just didn't expect what we saw. There were brick buildings surrounded by tall, naked trees and the winter air was crisp and refreshing. The chill of the day seemed to be softened only by the realness of the people we saw - those peddling home from work, with their shovels and pipes, and fresh produce trailing behind them. We kept remarking, "it's like a scene out of the movies..." and by the time we pulled up to Hope Foster Home in Beijing, we were already in love with the countryside.

When we arrived at Hope Foster Home, we hopped out of the van and Robin motioned to me and Sarah to go inside. Once inside, one of the Ayis (Aunties or nannies) noticed her and immediately asked, "Chen Chen?" And as I nodded in affirmation, she yelled, "Chen Chennn! Chen Chennnnnnnnnn!" and before I knew it, there were several other Ayis crowding around her, picking her up and holding her, loving on her, hugging and kissing her. It is a moment I'll never forget.

Once we hauled everything indoors, Robin led the way to where we would stay for the night. We whizzed past rooms full of children laughing and playing, up the stairs to a beautiful apartment. Everything in the facility was immaculately clean and well kept. Once we had a chance to sit for a moment, we just stared at each other - it was hard to believe we were actually in China. We had dreamed about it for so long, it was just surreal.

After we had a chance to unpack a few things and freshen up, we went on a quick tour of the building. It was amazing to see how much love and care had been taken to ensure these children had the best chance for a healthy life. There was a room dedicated to physical therapy, another to medical supplies, another for babies who needed intensive care, another room to park the scores of strollers they had, and one little room that brought everything there back into the world of reality for me - a room just for silence and comfort for little ones beyond their help. The building was absolutely amazing.

After our tour, we had the honor of dining with Robin and Joyce and their youngest little one, Katie. They have a beautiful home situated right next to the hospital/foster home and we were able to spend a couple of hours, just sitting and talking with them over some much welcome and eagerly consumed pasta (except for Sarah who was far more interested in their little dog)! Over and over again, as we sat and listened to the stories they told us, all I could think was... "these people are living examples of what God can do with those who are willing to live selfless lives..."

Dr. Joyce and Robin Hill, founders of Hope Foster Home, our dear friends who saved and took care of Sarah, prior to our adoption of her.

Just the other day I read a blog by Scott and Kerry Hasenbalg (http://www.shaohannahshope.org/) and they write, "There seems to be a trend in the church today to separate those who are considered 'evangelical' from those who are 'humanitarian'... those who pray and worship in church are also the ones who should go and give of themselves to the poor and needy. For the One in whose name we pray and whose life was intended to be an example for ours, Jesus Christ, worshipped and prayed in local synagogues and also went to the poor and hopeless... He touched them, He fed them, He held them, He walked with them, knew their names, and dined with them. He loved them close up, not just from far away."

How true - the same people sitting inside the church should be the people who sit outside with the blind, the poor, the unfragrant, the unsightly, the ill, and in my heart, most of all - the little ones who just want someone to hold their hand and love them - the orphans. Being with Robin and Joyce made me think of what we were doing to help - what could we contribute?

At work today, I overheard a conversation between our lead pastor and a few people in the hallway next to my cubical. He said, "...you know, being in the center of God's will is not the safest place to be... but it's the right place to be." It really struck me - he's absolutely right - Jesus didn't call us to play it safe, did He? And that is what amazes me about Robin and Joyce and Lyn and Alan and all the people who have put their worldly successes aside - the places that were the most safe and most comfortable for them - they have put all that aside - the cars, the homes, the money, the corporate titles - they put these things aside for the sake of glorifying the Lord.

As we sat and talked and listened to them, you can feel how much they care about these little ones. It's amazing to hear the stories of how God has protected and lead them, and it was a great time of encouragement for us. Witnessing their faith and commitment to the Lord was amazing and although the word is almost cliche because it's been used so much... these people are truly, without a doubt, absolutely inspiring.

After dinner with Robin and Joyce, we headed back to the apartment and began to settle in for the night. We unpacked a bit more, then decided to turn it in and wake up early to do the rest.

Once we were up, we sat and watched our first sunrise in China, just me and Mike (Sarah was still sawing logs)... and even in the 10 degree weather (or at least, to us, it felt that cold) it was one of the most beautiful sunrises I've ever seen. No telephone poles, no electric lines, no tall homes or buildings... just the sunshine and the mist weaving their way though the trees and onto the open fields.

We unpacked and repacked the rest of our luggage, ate some breakfast, and got ready for a day of traveling ahead. We were to fly to Zhengzhou in the late morning, but before we left, we wanted to spend more time with the children, the Ayis and with Joyce and Robin.

We ventured downstairs to one of the playrooms to visit with the children and Ayis one last time and they all gathered around Sarah again. They were amazed at how much she had grown and we gestured back and forth through sign language to communicate. It was actually a lot of fun and regardless of our verbal differences, we were all on the same wave length - happy to be in that moment with all the children playing around us.

As I looked down, a little boy about 7 months old had parked himself almost directly on my feet and was looking up at me. I reached down and gently "booped" him in the checks and I saw a smile flash across his little clefted lips. I did this two or three more times until he spotted Mike... then he didn't want anything to do with me... no way lady! All he wanted was that weird looking guy with the wiry stuff on his chin!

So Mike picked him up off the floor and stroked the back of his fuzzy head, his little eyes just rolled like he was ready to fall asleep - he was so enjoying being touched. After several minutes of playing with him, we knew we had to leave, so Mike tried to put him back down. Bad idea. The baby had decided that he wanted to keep Mike - maybe as a pet (he liked his goatee) and had balled his little fists up tight in Mike's shirt. Poor little guy - they literally had to pry him away and at that moment, as I looked at Mike, I understood how much he would have loved to have taken him home too. Later Mike told me the baby had smiled at him the entire time he held him and seeing how much he just wanted to be held made his heart ache to the point of tears.

After the Ayis took the baby from Mike, we decided to visit with Joyce a little more. Robin had some pressing things to take care of, so we spent another hour or so with Joyce - listening to her wonderful stories of hope. Joyce is a warm and bright lady with a heart full of compassion, humor, and love and we were completely transfixed and deeply moved by some of the things she told us.

There had been a baby left outside their gate not too long ago. A little girl, only months old, was carefully wrapped in blankets with formula tucked in tight next to her cold little body, however, she was so emaciated and in such poor health that they didn't think she would make it through the night. She then handed me a photo of the baby. I have never seen a child so past being malnutritioned - she had a thin layer of skin that covered her delicate but grossly protruding little bones - past that, there was nothing but the grim look of death.

Joyce mentioned that although she looked the way she did, it was obvious (because there was formula with her) she had been loved and imagined her mother/parents probably tried to do everything they could for her before finally giving her up as a last resort to save her life. And so, it was a desperate act of love to place her there, alone that day, next to the gates of Hope Foster Home, where they knew she would be given the best chance at life. Only a few months later, this little girl, once so near dying, is now a normal, joyful, (and very chubby) infant. She is a baby scores of hundreds would love to adopt. Turns out she had a blocked intestine - which is very easily cured... all it took was someone who was willing to fight for her.

As we left Hope Foster Home that day, our short, less than 24-hour visit with them had made a huge impact on our hearts. We flew to Zhengzhou that afternoon, leaving behind people we now consider part of our family. I cannot say enough how awesome it was to see that place and to be among that company and in many ways, I believe it is some small measure of what God must be like. We felt His presence there and it wasn't difficult to see His glory and compassion shining through all those beautiful little smiling faces.

How great God is,
How much He sees,
How tenderly He cares for His little ones.

For true beauty is not revealed,
But is made perfect through His Son.

"True beauty has nothing to do with skin... but absolutely everything to do with His heart."

Thoughts on... packing for China!

2007-11-21T23:58:00.000-08:00

So it is finally here... we are going to China to finalize Sarah's adoption!

We are so excited about the last and final leg of our journey to adopt Sarah. In a way, I will be sad to see it end as during the past year, we have been blessed to witness God work in ways we couldn't have imagined. For some silly reason, I start to think that now we are all connected, we will no longer see Him work in such amazing ways and it starts to make me sad. Why? Because, when you witness things you know are not man-made - man-induced - man-generated... and are way too coincidental to be anything but God-created... it takes your walk with God to a whole new level! You are infused with hope, confirmed with love, and enveloped in such an elated sense of wonder. How Great is our God!

As I look back, I see nothing but brokenness in both our situation and in Sarah's situation.

I see a little girl who had little hope, but so much promise.
I see a couple who had little promise, but so much hope.

I guess God must have thought we'd all make a good fit - three broken people, pieced together by God's perfect design. And so, here we are today, going over packing lists and travel plans, getting ready to bring this part of our journey to a happy and celebratory end.

So, I go from looking back and reflecting to looking forward towards a future that is unknown but I know has been earmarked for something special. How do I know that? Because I believe all our lives are earmarked for something special.

Granted, God never promises us that our lives are going to be easy, and I know our lives... especially Sarah's life, is going to have it's share of ups and downs, but that's ok because God will always have us in the palm of His hand. I know that when those hard times come... and I know they will... there is nothing that will "get past" God. He will know and have approved every circumstance in our lives, good and bad, He will know each and every heartache even more intimately than we ever could. I know He will never give us more than we can handle and although we may not see God, or audibly hear God, or physically touch God, we will know He is still there... because of what He has done for us.

So dear friends, as I write on this Thanksgiving Day, I pray your day is filled with the love of family and friends, but more than that - I hope you find your day is filled with the love of a Savior!

Happy Thanksgiving!

My Reason...

2007-11-02T20:55:00.001-07:00

For anyone who needs a Reason...

...this is the beauty of who He is.

For Ashley, Tyler, Alex, Cork, Cass, Nikki, Chase
and little Sarah Chen-Chen.

How do you make a difference?

2007-10-27T17:29:00.000-07:00

Since we've had Sarah, we haven't had much spare time and we keep making excuses as to why we're not out there, being active advocates for orphans.

Today, I thought enough was enough. Maybe I don't have the time it takes to run a charitable organization (yet), the talent, or means to be the next Oprah or Angelina Jolie, but I do have fingers, a computer, and half a brain, and by golly - I'm going to use them!

So, as a baby step in the right direction, me and Mike have created a donation page for Shaohannah's Hope that we're going to ask everybody and their brother to visit and at least think about donating to.

For those of you who don't know the story, Shaohannah's Hope played a large part in bringing our family together. You see, the founders, Steven Curtis Chapman and his wife Mary Beth and their family, visited Hope Foster Home last year and found a little girl who needed a liver and a family. (See my January post in the archives for the complete story.) Once they learned about her condition and her chances of survival in China, Mary Beth sent out an email in hopes that someone could help her. The email was sent to the executive director at Shaohannah's Hope, Scott Hasenbalg, who forwarded it to a friend of ours, who told us about her.

A year later, Sarah landed in the U.S. and upon her arrival, cemented her place in our hearts and in our home! (See my April post in the archives for the complete story.)

Sarah in a recent stay at the hospital with one of her favorite nurses...

We have also had so many who have very generously given of their time and support, their prayers and even their pockets, when it came to helping us with Sarah. So many have rallied around us with such encouragement and love. We have been so completely blessed, we cannot keep it to ourselves! We are running over, full to the brim, with blessings and want to do what we can, little as it may be, to give back.

Which is where our donation page comes in - this is one little way we feel we can do that. For anyone who would like to help us make a difference in the lives of these children and in an effort to help other families the way we have been helped, we have created a page where our family, friends or anyone who just happens to be touched by her story, can go to donate if they feel led. Please don't feel obligated if you aren't compelled to donate! If you do want to donate, but can't donate a whole lot - don't worry - if your donation comes from your heart, that's all we ask.

If you would like to donate, please click on the link below:

For more information on Shaohannah's Hope, please visit http://www.shaohannahshope.org/.

For more information on Hope Foster Home, please visit http://www.hopefosterhome.com/.

Thoughts on... Awefulls

2007-09-09T13:37:00.000-07:00

So, just what is an "awefull" anyway?

It was only yesterday when I took the opportunity to add this term to my vocabulary after my little two-foot-plus instructor jumped up and down, clapping her hands, dancing while I made breakfast. It was then I learned what an "awefull" was.

We had gotten up at daybreak yesterday morning as Mike had to leave for work early, so me and Sarah toddled down to breakfast around 8am. It was a normal Saturday morning, with the exception of Mike being gone. We have created a routine: we walk into her room, and if she is awake, say "good morning" and ask her if she wants out of her crib. (If she isn't awake when we walk into the room, we normally just turn on the lights, start making a little noise until she wakes up naturally as we have learned by experience, that Sarah is a lot like my little sister when you wake her up out of a deep sleep... it's something you just don't want to do unless you can run really, really fast...) Once she's out of the crib, she goes straight to her changing table and we chit-chat. I ask her how she slept, she'll normally ask where Daddy is, I will tell her, she'll repeat what I tell her in question format, I will affirm her question and then she'll ask about one of her most favorite activities... eating!

Hamming it up in the living room...

"E-E-E," she says (translated, "Eat-Eat-Eat") and her eyes get wide as she starts telling me how "hunga" (hungry) she is and how she wants her "ju-ju" (we call her drinks "juice" because it's easier for her to say juice instead of drink). So by the time we get her diaper on, get her in her clothes, get her shoes on, etc., she's ready to eat anything that resembles food and, on most days, will repeat her plea to "E-E-E" up to 5 to 10 times. And there are times that after we finally arrive downstairs in the kitchen, she is so worked up about eating that she starts to dance and clap and squeak and stomp when she sees the food coming out of the fridge.

Well, this particular morning she knew she was going to have a special breakfast (I had promised it to her the night before to help her go to sleep), so as I started preparing the food, she started making little "ooo-oooo-ooooo" noises and following me around the kitchen.

Watch out Pippie! You ain't got nothin' on Sarah!

You see, several weeks ago, Mike was having a hard time putting Sarah down to sleep, so he thought it might help to tell her what we were going to do the next day. He would tell her, "...the sooner you go to sleep, the sooner you'll wake up tomorrow and then we're going to..." and he would proceed to tell her about what we would be doing the next day. Believe it or not, we think it's working as she's becoming easier for him to put down now. So when she started to cry last night as I was putting her to bed, I used his technique; I told her that we were going to eat her favorite foods the next morning. I don't think I've ever seen her stop crying so fast. Needless to say, after I told her about breakfast, she went straight to sleep without another peep!

So, back to the kitchen...

Of late, Sarah's been talking a lot more - and her vocabulary is expanding by leaps and bounds. So I was surprised to hear her say, "awefull" yesterday. I was standing there prepping the food and she said, "awefull" rather excitedly. I could tell, by the way she was motioning that she did not mean, "awful" as in "that just stinks", rather, she was very happy and kept repeating the word.... "awefull... awefull... awefull..."

If you had heard her without seeing her, you might have thought, "boy! this child is just miserable about something..." and it was strange and slightly uncomfortable to hear her repeat that word over and over again. To me, the word meant something completely different - to me, the word is extremely negative and I was having a hard time listening to her say it... then watching her slowly spin circles with glee about the kitchen floor. It just didn't make any sense.

Talking to Daddy on Mommy's cell phone...

I knew, just by looking at her, that she was excited and her "awefull" meant something good. And so, it started me thinking.

Lately, I've been learning little life lessons from the oddest of places. Yesterday, it just happened to come from my pint-sized bit of joy. So many times, we misinterpret things that make us uncomfortable or painful as being negative, when in reality, they are the exact opposite. The last couple years of our lives have been unusually stressful - some of it was brought on by our own decisions, and some of it was beyond our knowledge or control and generally, when an issue popped up during this time, it was something I instantly viewed as being negative and unwanted. I am slowly learning to embrace these experiences, because after being through a few, I have realized, they've actually been good for me. I've learned a great deal from each experience and I'm a much stronger person and hopefully, it's made me a better person too (or at least a little more thankful and a little less negative).

Minutes after sitting in her very own rocking chair, made specially for her by a very special family friend...

Of course, hindsight is 20/20 and foresight (for me at least) is normally legally blind, but at least now, I'm doing my best to see these "negative" issues in a different light. I find problems are easier to endure when you see them as opportunities instead of clobbertunities (ok, ok, so if you use that word during a Scrabble game... well, let's just say, you're on your own).

I am starting to believe that sometimes the best rewards come from persevering positively through your most painful moments.

Anyhow, it just struck me as I watched her that day - how joyful she was, saying "awefull" while whooping-it-up in the kitchen. Unbeknownst to Sarah, she inspired me to do the same thing. The next time I encounter something "awful" I'm going to try my best to remain joyful regardless of the situation.

Oh and by the way, "awefull" means "waffles" in Sarah-talk... and she is definitely filled with awe-fulls when it comes to observing Mommy making waffles.

Thoughts on... everyday life with Sarah

2007-07-21T22:37:00.001-07:00

Me and Sarah having some fun time on the stairs at home... doing our best "Wallace and Gromit" impressions!

We just celebrated Sarah's 3-month anniversary with us... how time flies! Has it really been 3 months already? Don't get me wrong, there are times when she seems like she's been here for ages (like those lovely 3am mornings... "Is it your turn or is it mine?" "I think it's your turn tonight..." "Is it? Are you sure?" "Yes... your turn!" "Ok.. I'll give you money - how much money you want?" "Are you serious? hummm... that's a hard one: money... sleep... money... sleep... yep... it's still your turn...") and then there are other moments that it feels like she's only been here a few days (like yesterday when she came up to me, turned my face and looked me straight in the eyes, smiled big, then planted a kiss on me and gave me a "Sarah-beara" hug to follow it up). We are blessed to continue to learn who Sarah really is on a day-to-day basis as we watch her learn and grow and react to different situations and people.

The first time we gave her sherbet was a hoot. It makes me laugh to think about it. As soon as I popped the first spoonful into her mouth, her eyes went wide, her nose wrinkled and she opened her mouth wide in a panic. I wasn't sure she'd ever had anything so cold in her mouth before, so I told her, "spit it out - spit it out!" then she shook her head "no," her face still all askew. "No... no..." she said, forcing it down. Then after she steadied herself, she turned to me and promptly said, "mo - mo" (translated, "more - more"). Next time I'm thinking about zapping it in the microwave first.

Sarah enjoying a fudge-pop on a hot summer day!

Being a mom reveals a lot about you that you may not have known before. I used to say, "I don't care for babies, they don't do anything but eat, sleep and poop..." and ever since I can remember, I've always wanted my children to skip baby-hood and go straight to toddler-ville. Now that I'm wandering around in toddler-town, I find myself wishing she was still a baby, thinking about what it would have been like to have been with her through those first moments. It may sound odd to some, but there are moments when I really grieve not having been the one to carry Sarah those nine months or nurse her or sing to her or hold her in my arms when she was just hours old. But regardless, I am so thankful for the moments I have with her now. She is such a treasure and being a mom is one of the most wonderful things that has ever happened to me.

5 minutes after the fudge pop... we photographed this elf taking a bath in our sink!

I've also found a quick way to get rid of any unnecessary fingers. Sarah has to take pills after every meal. One day after breakfast, as I was sticking one in her mouth, before I knew it, someone triggered the trap door and it snapped shut on my pointer. At that moment, while I was trying my hardest to refrain from screaming (of course, all the while doing the customary "I've-got-my-finger-stuck-in-your-teeth" dance), I finally managed to yelp out, "YEOOOW!" Her little eyes popped open and for a minute, we stood, finger in mouth, mouth biting finger - both of us with our eyes as big as saucers, looking to see what the other was going to do. After I managed to convince her that fingers don't taste good, she opened her little jaws, and I pulled my mangled finger out. Poor thing, if fingers were their own entities, it would have needed cardio-digitary resuscitation! (Ok, ok, so maybe it wasn't THAT bad...)

Being a mom is exciting (exciting in a way only a mom would understand, that is). For example, just today Sarah told me she wanted to go to "the pabie"... yes, you read it right, the pabie.

Sarah likes to sit on the pabie and sing. She sings especially loud when she's on the pabie and you can tell by watching her, she thoroughly enjoys her stage time on her little porcelain perch. In between her little face turning varying shades of red, she does her own special rendition of "Jesus Loves Me" making sure to sway to the music in her head, making all the appropriate hand lifts, complete with the facial gestures of an opera singer. I'm not sure where she picked that up (let's just say it was Mike) but man, you couldn't pay for better entertainment. What a cutie.

There are also moments that are not as fun - the nosebleeds that are becoming more and more frequent, looking at her little tummy becoming more distended week by week, and the times when she cries and cries for no apparent reason. It's times like those that really make you feel the impact of just how much responsibility you carry and just how "in control" you truly are (as if!). At these moments we have to give her back to the Lord because there is no way we could ever do anything more for Sarah than just love her, guide and instruct her, and care for her the best we can while she's here.

I believe all children are gifts from heaven - truly - each one is a unique and extraordinary gift straight from the Lord. I believe they are given to us on loan, entrusted to us for only a few seasons and it is my hope that our stewardship of Sarah encourages her to find the purpose God has for her life.

We are so incredibly blessed to have this little one grace our home and hearts. This blog and my ability to write about Sarah and about how amazing her journey has been so far, stops a million miles short of adequate. Words just can't compare to the wonderful experience that is Sarah.

Thoughts on... Sarah has arrived!

2007-04-30T22:18:00.000-07:00

Little Sarah Chen-Chen - at home, relaxing, smiling and reading some good books!

As we waited at the airport, my heart raced and my mind chewed on what would happen in the next hour, the next day, the next week, the next year - the next half a century. As I stood there, a complete mish-mosh of thoughts and emotions went zipping through my brain, as I knew our quiet, spontaneous and sometimes arbitrary lives were about to be changed forever: Sarah was coming home!

Sarah's flight at LAX has arrived on time!

For those of you who have followed our story, you know that we've been wanting to adopt for the last couple years and it was one day in June 2006 that we learned about a little one named Chen-Chen (who we now call Sarah), a precious little girl, an orphan in China. Ever since, we've been praying and hoping that sometime in the near future, we would be able to hold her in our arms and call her our own. It was on this ordinary day in April, that she would make her arrival and cement her place in our hearts AND in our home!

Mike, me and Mom waiting patiently for Sarah...

As we waited, and held our "Welcome Home Sarah" signs, we watched as people made their way down the ramp. Some had come to the U.S. on business, their chauffeurs greeting them with their names on signs, ready to transport them to their hotels. Others had come to the U.S. to visit friends and were greeted with hugs and kisses and warm reunions. Yet others had stepped off the plane to return to the place they called home.

Home... a place of love, comfort, warmth, and healing - the very reason Sarah had traveled all that way... to come home.

Mom, Dad, Mike, me, and our cousin Clint waiting to welcome Sarah to the U.S.

We had no expectations of being hugged, or kissed, or loved on, only that, in all probability, she would be extremely tired and cranky, lugging with her the only baggage she had (anything she had created during her last moments on her flight!) We had no hopes that she would do anything but cry when she saw us, so as we stood there, watching and waiting, we had generated little (if any) presuppositions of what would occur within the next several hours or days. All we knew was God had made a miracle happen... and that was enough.

Going back, we first heard that Sarah was going to make the trip on Wednesday, March 28th. We had been told she was showing signs that her liver might be faltering and that she was to be flown to the United States as soon as possible to be evaluated by the liver transplant team at Children's Hospital in Los Angeles.

This news set a whole team of people to work; the lightening fast and wonderful team at Hope Foster Home secured her passport, Visa, and booked her flight (which was generously donated by a couple who had worked with Sarah at Hope Foster Home); Pat Van Winkle contacted the liver transplant team, coordinated and secured her official acceptance there as a patient; a generous donor came forward and produced the funds the hospital needed as a retainer (a huge amount, another miracle); my employer and church family at Yorba Linda Friends continued to be incredibly supportive and generous of both time-off and in helping us prepare; Mom and Dad helped us make a mad dash to get the house in order, the crib set-up, the baby seat in the car and were the backbone of our moral support... among a myriad of other things; and lastly but most importantly... everyone continued to pray.

I cannot stress enough how much I think prayer has impacted our family. So many have prayed for Sarah, for very specific things, and so far, we've seen almost every prayer regarding her answered. It has been nothing short of extraordinary and everything exceeding incredible. In my most hopeful and trusting moments in my walk with the Lord, I have never seen nor experienced anything quite like this; it's been real. I've always believed that God was the Almighty - the Great I Am, the Creator of the Universe... but I never stopped to think that God still worked miracles. I had unknowingly put God in a box. Until we heard about Sarah, I didn't except too much from Him and never asked Him to work in ways I knew were beyond us humans. But through this journey with Sarah, I now truly believe that nothing is too big or too small for God... not an orphan with a liver problem half way across the world and certainly not a broken-hearted couple longing for children to hold... nothing is too big or too little for God.

That call in March changed our lives in an instant. I kept thinking, "this is so surreal!" and for the next two weeks, that same feeling would replay over and over and over again in my mind... "is this really happening?! Are we really going to be able to see her and hold her in two weeks?" coupled with, "Oh man, I'm going to be a mom... will I make a good mom? What if I'm lousy at it?" and the ever present, "What about her liver? Is she in pain? Will she be uncomfortable?" and, "What if she becomes really sick? What happens if we can't help her? What then?"

We had only seen her through photographs and videos at that point, so to think she would be in the same room with us in less than a couple weeks was almost unbelievable. As excited as we were, there was an extensive gamut of feelings that accompanied that phone call: anxiousness, happiness, joy, worry, thankfulness, nervousness, alarm, and amazement to name just a few. However, the one feeling that has always topped all the others, is the feeling of absolute wonder - a year ago, we were told it would never happen and now, on April 15th, we were at the airport, waiting to welcome her home.

When asked what those weeks felt like before Sarah arrived, Mike had said, "it's like finding out you are pregnant and then having the baby two weeks later" and truly, that's exactly what it felt like (minus the physical aspects of being pregnant, mind you). We began to make purchases for the necessities we needed and at it was during one $600 trip to Babies R' Us that we realized we weren't in Kansas anymore!

The outpouring of generosity has been deeply, deeply moving and is something we will always remember and treasure. My sister Julie had saved her crib for me, so Mom and Dad brought that up. Mom and Dad spent a ton of time (and money!) helping outfit Sarah's room. We were blessed by many of my co-workers with a beautiful stroller and a portable crib only days before her arrival and have been so touched by many incredibly thoughtful and generous people, like Chris Roberts, who I've not spoken to in years, who sent a package for Sarah after she heard about her. The kindness of those who have called or emailed just to offer their support and help was extremely encouraging and we cannot thank them enough. I can remember being so worried thinking about the expense of preparing for her in only two weeks, but by the time she arrived, almost every item we needed for her day-to-day care had been met - how God provides!

So, on April 15th, we made our way to LAX to wait for Sarah and Marsha (Marsha works for Hope Foster Home and transported Sarah to us - an absolute gem, so representative of the organization she works for). I was so anxious, I could hardly stand it. Every time a person would appear from around the corner of the ramp, my stomach would jump into my throat. "Nope, that's a business man... nope, that's a mom and her daughter..." Nope. Nope. Nope.

Then finally, as if in super slow motion... the gray wheels of a stroller, then the little legs and hands of a child, and finally, Marsha and Sarah had arrived!

As Marsha strolled closer to us, all eyes were on Sarah. She looked tired and was very unimpressed with all of us and completely clueless as to what everyone was doing taking her photo, crying and hugging, video-taping, oooing and aahhing over her. She didn't cry though... matter of fact, she sat in her stroller like a child who'd just been on a 15 hour flight only to get off and be greeted by complete strangers - she didn't move a muscle!

They've arrived! Marsha and Sarah motoring their way through the airport.

Our first moment with Sarah. She didn't know quite what to think of us!

Once all the initial excitement had run it's course, we figured it was best to get on home. However, we had determined the next stop was to see Pat (who is a pediatric doctor) so he could evaluate an ear infection she had and her general condition coming off the flight. Once we arrived at the Van Winkle residence, we got our first glimpse (or should I say, sniff) of what would soon become an everyday event at the Barrett house. It was among the very first audible noises we heard her produce and is now what she refers to (as she giggles and laughs) as a "toot-toot."

The welcoming party! Special thanks to Kacie for all the great photos of that day!

Funny enough... Mike was in the bookstore with her the other day and she was pretty gassy. They were waiting in line, enjoying the low music that was playing throughout the store when she broke the silence... "toot-toot!" she proclaimed. Then, as they took another step closer to the cash register, giggling, she let another one go... "toot-toot!!!" she said louder. At this time, Mike was still reeling from her first "toot-toot" when all of a sudden, she let go what could have been mistaken as a sonic boom and announced to the whole store, "TOOT-TOOOOOOOT!" Mike later told me he had wanted to crawl under the nearest table. I thought it was cute.

Anyway, back to her toot-tooting on Pat... after he had given her the thumbs-up, we proceeded home for the first time as a family. It was a 30-minute drive at best, but upon arriving at home, we found she was as sound asleep as an old man watching the golf channel. Marsha picked her up, took her inside and laid her down in the portable crib we had set-up for her downstairs. We had agreed Marsha would catch some zzz's upstairs and we would sleep downstairs on futons in the living room with Sarah until she woke up... which was precisely 30 minutes after Marsha went to bed! I can remember acutely thinking... "what do we do now?!" All of a sudden, I keenly remember thinking how badly I wanted my Mom so she could tell me what to do!

First, she started moving her legs, making little grunting sounds and rubbing her eyes... that is, until she realized she was in a place she'd never seen with those people who had been obsessing over her at the airport. Now, is her first moments of lucidity at home, she realized these people were starring at her and no matter what, they just wouldn't go away. So she froze - the only thing moving were her little eyes - darting back and forth trying to figure out what was going on and where the nearest escape route was.

At this point, we had already been told she enjoyed food tremendously, and at one point, I had read that the fastest way to a child's good graces was to give them food they liked. Joyce at Hope Foster had told us that noodles would make a nice treat for her, so we asked her, "do you want some noodles? some food?" and faster than a greased pig on the 4th of July, she was up and wanting out of that crib!

Sarah reminding me she's taking "little bites" - she stuffed a 1/4 of a banana in her mouth one day, which I had to fetch out... so now she always reminds me she's taking "little bites."

From then on, I knew me and Sarah were going to get along just fine. I mean, we spoke the same language (the language of "Ummmmm!") and I could tell she appreciated the finer foods in life - (Top Ramen noodles minus the salty seasoning packet) and it was during this first meal at 3:00 a.m. that she laughed at me for the first time.

At first, it was a little "humph" type of a laugh... very short, very matter of fact, like she was amused at my silly antics and efforts in trying to get her to smile. At last, I found my in! I tried to eat a noodle that had fallen on to top-side of her little hand. She had recoiled, thinking I was trying to bite her, but after a few more trys, she began to realize I was trying to play with her. At that point, she began to wave her hand, slowly at first, looking at me very carefully with a half smile, then after a few minutes, she was wildly flailing about, belly-laughing and squeaking, waving her little arm as fast as she could! Noodles went flying, heads tipped back in laughter and all the while, I kept thinking, we could have missed this... we could have missed this. Such a cheerful little voice, a wonderful and innocent little laugh, and a beautiful, beautiful smile. I will never forget that moment.

Our little ham! She's always smiling and laughing and giggling!

And so it went for the rest of the morning.... giggling and laughing, lots of getting to know each other, a ton of good food (which created the eventual poopie diaper and I didn't gag Julie!) and a whole lot of everything good.

What a wonder. What a joy. What a miracle... Sarah is finally home.

One of my favorite photos of Sarah - taken at Disneyland a week after she arrived. What a treasure she is.

Thoughts on... Why the Toilet Paper Should Be Right Side Down!

2007-03-12T03:52:00.000-07:00

Welcome back! I actually wrote the majority of this post a while ago, however, since it's been a while and I am still working on a more current post (there is so much to tell!), I will put this up for now and will submit another post soon thereafter.

This month's topic is all about toilet paper, or more specifically, why toilet paper should be right side down. I know, I know, you can hardly wait to dive into this life-altering subject, but before we start down that road, I'd like to tell you why this subject has enough importance to have a post on my blog.

Toilet paper is fantastic (it's actually better than fantastic, I mean... imagine if we didn't have toilet paper...). Toilet paper is one of those everyday niceties that doesn't get much notice or credit on a daily basis. I mean, when is the last time you heard somebody say, "boy, I love my toilet paper!" or "this toilet paper is so soft and fluffy, I just want to hold it all day!" Maybe it's because we know what happens to toilet paper or maybe it's just because we're so busy with the "big" ticket items in our lives that we just don't take time to notice the little things that make life so much more easy. I mean, life without toilet paper - eweeeee!

Back in the late 1300's, China started producing special paper ordered specifically by the Emperor himself for the purpose of cleaning the royal bottom. It was produced in large sheets, anywhere from 1-2' across to 2-4' tall. Granted, since it wasn't produced to be unrolled, I don't guess the emperor and empress had any heated debates about which want it should be situated on the roll.

In the United States, toilet paper didn't come onto the scene until the late 1800s and then, it was almost unheard of, being produced by individuals who marketed it for specific demographics (the rich and ultra clean). They came in little packets of sheets, medicated with aloe and other soothing herbal remedies of the day... I guess it would be the equivalent to what is now known as "the wet wipe" and again... it came in sheets, so the infamous "you-put-the-toilet-paper-on-wrong" argument didn't bubble to the top of the "Pet Peeve" list until the early 1900s, which is when the U.S. started to mass produce the stuff.

It was during these days, it was said to have been rather rough, sometimes being accompanied by splinters ("hey honey, get the tweezers - I stabbed myself with the toilet paper again!"). Prior to this, most Americans used various other means, including leaves, the Sears and Roebuck catalogue, newspaper and even tree bark - all very sturdy and durable, but seriously lacking in fluffy softness and absorption. I mean, have you ever wondered what it would feel like to live back then - when people either ordered milk or whiskey instead of double, non-fat, decaffeinated, soy, mocha cappuccinos?

I used to think I'd like living back in the 1800s, that is, until I watched the PBS special, Frontier House. For those of you who don't know anything about the show, it took three modern day families and turned them into Montana territory pioneers from 1883. It was a hoot and a half to watch - very interesting. The girls could hardly stand to be without their makeup (they even resorted to making mascara from grease) and the men were not physically able to withstand the workload that their 1800s counterparts hefted on a daily basis. But even worse than having to go without your makeup... was, you guessed it - having to go without toilet paper! Eeeewwwwweeee! These families went 178 days without toilet paper! Now that's an accomplishment!

So, now that we understand why we're so thankful we have soft, fluffy toilet paper, we go back to the question - why should the toilet paper be right side down?

This question has been hotly debated for decades and I'm sure has ranked within the top 10 "pet peeves" of most marital couples and roommates since it has been put on a roll. You know what I mean - we all know about those fights - the ones where you wind up wanting to throw that roll of toilet paper at your husband's head... "You always put the toilet paper on wrong! Can't you just do it this way?" (Then you give him a step-by-step show-and-tell about how he should load the toilet paper onto the roller.) I mean, it drives some people crazy to have the toilet paper rolling off the wrong way. Or what about the guy who doesn't replenish the roll?!? Oh - that's fun! (Eye roll) You're sitting there yelling for someone to come and save you and after about two minutes, you realize nobody can hear you - or worse - they're so peeved that you yelled at them for putting the roll on wrong that they decided not to do it at all and then, you start eyeballing the poor Kleenex box...

For those of you who think I'm loony, I'm sad to say, there are a great many Americans who do have a preference as to how they would like their toilet paper to dispense! Surveys indicate, that sixty-eight percent of the population prefers the sheet coming over the top as opposed to twenty-five percent favoring under the roll dispensing.

So the next time someone loads the roll incorrectly, you say, "hey - 68% of all Americans prefer the roll loaded with the paper coming up over the top... which means that 68% of all the people who sit on this toilet will be terked that the paper is coming out the bottom - don't you think we owe it to them to put the roll on right!?!"

Although this post may appear to be a total and complete waste of time (for those of us who are not total and complete TP geeks, that is), hopefully we'll appreciate some of the more insignificant things in our lives a little more (like toilet paper... or maybe a husband that knows your a wierdo about toilet paper and so, always loads it the way you like it just to make you happy... not that I know anyone like that personally...), but whatever it is, I know I'll start to appreciate it a little more. After all - those poor people who went through being stabbed in the butt by their toilet paper shouldn't have gone through all that trauma for nothing!

And so, we have decided, anyone who visits our home will always be able to sit on the porcelain throne in complete contentment knowing the toilet paper is loaded right side down.

Until next time... happy loading!

Thoughts on... The Finer Things in Life

2007-02-05T19:58:00.000-08:00

As I sit here typing and eating dill pickles and apples (no, I'm not pregnant and yes, it is a strange combination, but in my defense, they both fall under the veggie/fruit level of the food pyramid, so when you look at it that way, it's not so bad), I'm reflecting on the happenings of the past few weeks.

Only yesterday, we attended the funeral of a cousin who died at a very young, very brave, and very beautiful 34 years of age after losing her battle with cancer (and I say "battle" because she fought it hard, although very gracefully, for years until it finally wore her body down). She leaves behind a loving husband who stayed by her bedside day after day, holding her hand while tears rolled down his cheeks; a sister who wept aloud when they came to take away her body; and a whole family who, in witnessing these sights, grieved deeply in unison, and surrounded them in love.

I was reminded, throughout these days, of several things: how wonderful and comforting it is to have close family and friends, that God is a God of comfort and that He is there whether we think He is or not, that life is incredibly fragile, and that death is not the end but only a doorway. And as I write these words, I wonder what days lie ahead for which I will need to recall them... and then I think about Chen-Chen.

People ask us why we are adopting a sick child. Why on earth would we want to subject ourselves to all the potential grief, heartache and hardship? Think about the bills, the doctors appointments, your work schedules, the worry, the anxiety? What if the worst happens? What if there comes a point where the doctors can't do anything more to help her? What then? Why would you even consider this for your life?

Those are all reasonable questions that both me and Mike have asked ourselves on numerous occasions and still do sometimes. Truth be known, we never set out intending to adopt a little one with serious medical problems. I think it was something we mildly considered from time to time, but when we applied, we applied to adopt a healthy child. So what happened? Why are we now adopting a little one with a liver disorder?

All I can say is when we heard about Chen-Chen, something very unscientific happened... we just felt she was meant to be ours.

Just as anyone who dreams about someday having children, biological or adopted, your love for that child starts well before you know them... the way God loved each and every one of us before we were born. Let me explain...

Me and Mike have always wanted children and from the day we were married, we always talked about what they would look like, who they would take after, what kind of personalities they would have, whether we would have a boy or a girl first. We would talk about the things we would do with our little ones - I always imagined Mike wrestling with our boys and me, singing with our girls... we started loving them a long time ago.

A few years ago, when I was expecting, we experienced a heightening of those feelings, an amplification of everything we had been waiting in expectation of, and when I miscarried, it was a loss we felt deeply and grieved over for a long time because that child was so precious to us. The only reason I mention this, is to tell you we've experienced both types of waits - the wait for a biological child, and the wait for an adopted child, and I can tell you from experience, for those who doubt you cannot anticipate the arrival of an adopted child with as much joy and excitement as you can a biological child, I want to tell you, you can... they are the same.

Granted, we know she will not look like us (although I think her chin looks a lot like Mikes) and there are some things that are genetic, and although Chen-Chen is not ours biologically, we know that God has placed her in our path just the same, and we believe we were intended to be a family from the very beginning. Could it be that it was Chen-Chen that we were thinking about when we first got married, that it was Chen-Chen we were thinking about when we would wonder if we would have a girl or a boy first and that it was Chen-Chen we were thinking of whenever we would pass by the baby section in Target? Maybe it was her all along... we just didn't know the way God would deliver her to us.

So, why do we want to take on a sick child? I guess our reasoning is, the Lord willing, she's our daughter and we'll love her no matter what... come what may.

So now I need a refill on my pickles and apples... they taste so good, the only way you could improve on it would be if you could dip them in ketchup! (Not really, I'm just checking to see if you're still awake) I'll sign off for now, hoping to see you back again soon. My next blog is going to be, "Thoughts on... Why the Toilet Paper Should Be Right Side Down!" - you're not going to want to miss that one!

Take care dear friends. Be sure to hug your families extra tight tonight, don't forget to say your bedtime prayers (no joke there... prayer is powerful!) and lastly, stock up on pickles and apples... for these are the finer things in life!

Thoughts on... Bringing You Up To Date

2007-01-13T11:23:00.000-08:00

For those of you who are joining us for the first time - welcome!
(Since this is really my first blog, truth be known, everybody's a first timer, so you really haven't missed anything yet.)

Take your boots off and stay awhile (unless you have stinky feet, then you can keep your boots on). Feel free to mosey on through the page, take a gander at anything that interests you, stay as long as you like.

I'd like to take this opportunity to thank you for dropping by my first blog entry - we all know how busy life is and reading something that is totally void of anything really life-changing is difficult to do especially when you have a lifestyle like ours, so again, thanks for slowing down for a bit.

First of all - happy 2007! I will turn 22 this year and I can't believe how the time has flown by! (ok, ok... so I'll be turning 24 - let's see how many of you believe that.) Me and Mike will be celebrating our 10th anniversary on January 25th (no joke there) but we don't have plans for celebrating yet. People think it's odd that we don't give each other presents or do anything special for our anniversarys... I guess it's normal to us, we celebrate our marriage whenever we're in the mood, so even though it's a milestone, we'll both be working that day.

On December 15th, I had a partial hysterectomy as I've been battling uterine fibroid tumors for years (they really are as yicky as they sound - you should see the photos!) and I finally figured that it was time to put an end to feeling like I had rocks in my tummy all the time. I've recovered pretty well and much of that goes to Mike, and my parents as they came up to stay with us for two weeks. I can tell you, my parents are worth their weight in D/FL diamonds (hey, I'm a girl who appreciates quality gems, what can I say?!) and there could never be better parents for me.

Switching gears - I'd like to tell you we're adopting a little one from China!
Back in 2005, we met the Van Winkle family who had started the adoption ministry at our church, Yorba Linda Friends Church (YLFC), and through an adoption seminar they hosted, we finally decided that it was time to adopt.

From left to right: Our good friends, Kacie, Diana, Trent and Pat Van Winkle

At the time, we were still thinking we might be able to have biological children, but adopting was something we were going to do regardless, and so, we started our journey towards our daughter.

But I'm getting ahead of myself... how we got to this point is really neat. Get comfortable... I'm going to tell you a story! (Stay with me, it's amazing!)

Three years ago we were without a church, without friends and all we did was work, eat and sleep. We had decided that working for ourselves would be a dream come true, so we decided to open a business. We started attending YLFC a couple weekends before we found a space to lease for our business (a pottery studio) and instantly fell in love with the church. Although we felt out of our element (we come from a small church of 300 - YLFC has attendance in the thousands), there was an undeniable pull and we felt the Lord was leading us there for a reason. In leasing the space for our studio, we found out that YLFC was our landlord - what a "coincidence," eh?!?

We leased the space, opened the business, continued to attend YLFC, and about four months after we opened our studio, I quit my design job. After two months of helping Mike in the studio, we understood working together was different that living together and I started looking for another job. I landed a job at YLFC, whose offices were located right next to the studio. It was there that, about a month after I hired on, Kacie Van Winkle called to see about starting an adoption ministry. It was at that point, I understood why I was there.

As we began to help the Van Winkles with the adoption ministry, we decided it was time for us to adopt and we started on the paperwork. Several months later (we were literally going as slow as molasses in the winter time) we still weren't finished and, although we were very excited that we were adopting, life got in the way: our business failed and we became financially strapped.

At this time, Pat and Kacie were planning a trip to Hope Foster Home in China (see the link on the right side of this page) as they had volunteered their time to help care for their critically ill orphans. At the same time Steven Curtis Chapman (link on the right) had ended his world tour in China and had toured several Chinese orphanages and orphan care facilities with his family, one such facility was Hope Foster Home. When they returned to the states, Mary Beth (Steven's wife) sent out an email, requesting help for a little girl who had a liver disorder... little did anyone know how God would bring us all together.

Months before, Pat had established an acquaintance with the executive director of Shaohannah's Hope (an charitable organization for orphans started by the Chapman's), Scott Hasenbalg who, only weeks before the Van Winkles were to leave for China, forwarded him Mary Beth's email. As we were working closely with the Van Winkles, Pat relayed the information to Mike, who, over lunch, told me. I will never forget that day. Both me and Mike looked at each other with tears in our eyes and I can remember both of us saying, "this is our little girl."

We never looked back. Right away Pat was collecting medications and supplements for her. We learned all about her condition, biliary atresia (liver doesn't drain bile causing liver failure) and started inquires about how we could adopt her. (Normally, China does not allow prospective parents to "choose" their children - normally, China assigns children to their parents) We were unable to connect her to our adoption agency, American World Adoption Association (link on right) and didn't know where to go until we were approached by the Gladney Center for Adoption (link on right) who was able to make the connection for us, so we switched adoption agencies mid-stream.

Meanwhile, Pat and Kacie flew to China and got to see her, hold her and love on her first hand.

Pat and Kacie with our little girl at Hope Foster Home in China

So here we are, six months later, all our paperwork completed, waiting to bring home Sarah (who I think I will still call Chen-Chen) and looking back on everything that has happened over the past two years, we can see the path that was cleared for us.

I used to think everything was coincidence or luck - that things just inexplicably "happened."
Not so anymore.

I believe everything has a reason... and our lives, all our lives, are meant for greater things than working, eating and sleeping. I don't think God wants our lives to be mundane, unexceptional, average and common. I think He wants us all to be extraordinary.

In the midst of this past six months, we've lost our business, been in two car accidents (which could have killed us, yet no one was injured... not even the car!), ruined our financial stability and lost my uterus. We've been through some of the most difficult times in our marriage, but I wouldn't trade these experiences for anything. Sure, it's been hard and emotional and difficult and even chaotic at times, but it's through these times that I've learned just how important our lives are to our Lord: God is moving and working in our lives.

Chen-Chen (Sarah) in November of 2006, celebrating her first birthday!

Most people think of God as an impersonal, heaven-dwelling, Zeus-like figure who would rather ignore the world than be involved in it. I see God in the sky, He paints me sunsets; I see God in my dogs, He gives me amusement and companionship when no one else is around; I see God in people, He is kind and compassionate; but most of all, I see God on the cross, loving me enough to endure the nails, the pain, the humiliation and the separation. To me, His existence and love are Undeniable.

Anyhow - that was pretty light for my first blog, right?

Again, for those of you who made it through to the end, thanks again for visiting. For those of you who didn't make it through to the end - it's called coffee, yeesch! (I can say that since you're not here to read this anyway.)

Stop by again sometime - I'll post every once and again. Next time, bring a cup o' joe with you (or some steaming hot chocolate with those fun little marshmallows) and I'll have something else that's totally inconsequential for you to read.

Until then, take care and remember - chew your food well!