The Backstage Pass

"I'm gonna sit by mom!"  "No! I'm gonna sit by mom!"
It was lunchtime and the boys were jockeying for a position next to me. 

Then~

"She's my mom.  Your mom is in Ethiopia!"

Say what!?

I was sure that my long, hard stare into his eyes sent him the message that was not ok to say.  I followed up with a firm, "You never say that!"

He persisted, "But it's true! His mom is in Ethiopia!"

"The woman who gave birth to him is in Ethiopia, but I am his mom."

I can understand the confusion, that's a complicated distinction for him to understand.

Justin didn't seem to pick up on it or care, he was rambling on about something else already.

But still...
My heart panged.

This was the first time for our family that his adoption was used as leverage against him.
To out rank him.
As if the kids all had tickets to a concert, but Justin didn't have the backstage pass.  "Sorry, kid, you're only allowed this far," Says security, holding a hand in his face...

It hurt me to see it.
Problem is, I know this won't be the last time in Justin's life where his adoption is used against him.  I can't even guess when, or how, or why, or where... but I'm confident it will happen again.

And it makes me wonder...
How will it make him feel?
Will he tell me about it?
Will he think I won't or can't understand?
Can I?
Will he wonder if adoption is a lesser thing?

Or will he be so secure in his identity with me and in his sense of belonging that any comments threatening him in those ways will not raise doubts, or insecurities, or hurts?
Is that wishful thinking?

I am your mom.  You are my son.
I am not a partial parent, it is full and complete.
Unchanging, unending, without limitations or exceptions.

I hope you know that.  I hope you believe it.

Your ticket includes the backstage pass.  -all of it. 
All of me.

The Side Door

A few months after we were married, Travis and I packed our bags and headed to Europe for a couple of weeks.  I was a clueless and inexperienced traveler and had no idea what we were doing or where we were going. (Fortunately, Travis was a seasoned international traveler, and he had a plan.)  One of our excursions in London was visiting the British Museum.  I'll admit I hadn't even heard of it before, and didn't know what to expect.   I trailed Travis as he followed the map through London to our destination. 

We arrived at a door tucked next to the trees along the sidewalk and entered, finding ourselves alone in a modest sized room filled with fascinating artifacts from the British Empire.  After spending a long amount of time scrutinizing and reading each display, we eventually wandered out into the hall to see what else this museum had to offer.

That's when stopped dead in our tracks...

Unbeknownst to us, we had just wandered into the enormous Great Court. 
The people scurrying about were too numerous to count. 
Massive structures surrounded us. 
The glass ceiling stretched so high, we felt like insignificant ants standing below.

Our jaws dropped, our bulging eyes stared.
We. had. no. idea.

That's when we realized we had entered the museum by some obscure side door -giving us no clue to the magnitude of what we had entered. We were completely taken aback and overwhelmed with awe and excitement.

We had been inside the museum all this time, and had no idea what we were a part of.
We had no idea how endlessly huge it was -beyond our ability to take it all in.
We wandered deeper in and the more we saw, the more we realized that we could never see it all.
The Rosetta Stone
Marble sculptures from the Parthenon
Egyptian Mummies
Damascus steel
Roman coins
2,008,160 objects! 

A feeling of panic ran through me as I realized we "wasted" so much time in that small area with this vastness of treasures ahead of us.  I felt pressure to rush through to try to see as much as we could, but also wanted to slowly enjoy a smaller amount and soak it up more deeply.

It was a profound experience and has recently been coming to mind as an example in so many areas of life.

The memory came to mind first last week when I listened to a cd mix of songs that my brother had made for us when we were first married.  We hadn't heard it in a couple of years, and when I was listening to it, I was flooded with memories from our marriage over the past twelve years, and I thought of the British Museum...

We entered into marriage years ago with no idea of what a vast, endless thing it was.  I've seen now how we could continue to explore the intricacies and mysteries and treasures of marriage for the rest of our lives and never see the end of all that it contains.

Education.  As a homeschool mom, this time of year I look back at all that we have covered and accomplished this past year, and I am satisfied and proud of all the learning my boys have done. 

But then I look forward. 

There is so much to learn!  I know that I can never cover all that education has to offer.  It's overwhelming at times to see how endless learning can be!  It is a joy and a treasure, but I could never attempt to wrap my head and arms around all the information that I would love for us to know and learn about.  I feel overwhelmed and inadequate, so limited in my abilities.

Adoption. Wow.  This is HUGE.  There are so many facets of adoption, each one can take you on a journey that can never be fully understood and defined.  The heart is taken to new places never felt before.  Relationships grow and stretch and strain. Our world becomes more real and personal.  Global issues have joined our family.  Poverty, sex trafficking, water access, oppression, racism become issues that break our hearts. But that's just been our journey, not every adoptive family goes down this path.  Beyond all that, there are complicated nuances in exploring the reasons people adopt, the legal aspects, the concerns and criticisms, domestic versus international versus foster care adoption, the perspective of the birth parents, the adult adoptee, the pre-adoptive, mid-adoptive, and down-the-road-a-while adoptive parent, those with the heart's desire to but are unable to adopt...  endless, personal, deeply sensitive, widely varied.

There is no way I can stand in my little corner of the adoption world and think I understand or comprehend it all.  I never could.  No one can.

In the midst of such precious timeless treasures, be it the British Museum, marriage, education, or adoption, the vastness of it helps me to feel very small, finite, insignificant. 
My ability to know or understand it all is so limited, so impossible.     

The temptation is to think that since I thoroughly explored the one small section of the museum, (or marriage, or education, or adoption...) that I feel like I "get it", to feel like I think I know. 
But when my eyes look on the Great Court and beyond, and I embrace a perspective of looking toward the vastness of what I don't know, is when the blessing of humility and awe take hold.

Feeling so small helps me hold a greater respect for the undiscovered.
Realizing how much I don't know helps me to admit my limits, my small perspective. 
I could never know it all and anyone who pretends to only looks foolish and arrogant.

Yet, there is a joy in soaking it all in, an awe of being a part of it, so much wonder, respect, endless opportunities to expand my mind, to see through the eyes of others.

Only when we exited the British Museum through the main entrance, could I look back and get a more accurate idea of where we had been.

Life is so like that. Only when I am exiting life on this earth can I hope to be able to look back and say:
Wow. That was an amazingly huge experience!  Although I couldn't take it all in, I kept learning, exploring, and soaking it in.  I feel honored and humbled and awed to be a part of it. 

What has been your Great Court experience? 
When did your world blow wide open and you realized how much you didn't know? 
When did you recognize the magnitude of what remains out of your reach and it helped keep you humble and moving forward?

When did you realize you had entered through the side door?

Battle is Bloody

These past few months I've had a growing discomfort and frustration within me.

Multiple precious people in my life are hurting, dealing with painful things, bleeding from their hearts, fighting a hard battle, or called to walk a difficult road. 

My frustration is rising because over and over I have been hearing from them that for the most part, they feel like they are fighting alone. Few people in their lives, in their churches, are willing to walk with them, fight with them, or to help bandage the wounds. 

I have growing concerns, questions in my mind, a knot in my stomach, tears welling in my eyes... Why is the church failing so many hurting people?

Through these past months, I've seen a recurring and nagging vision in my mind's eye.

I've seen a line of Marines decked out in their dress uniforms.

They look good, sharp, respectable, powerful, important, unified...
But they aren't doing anything!
They are just standing there looking good -giving an image and feeling proud.

But that's not what Marines are for.

Marines are made for battle,
for running into the dangerous, risky, hard places - to fight the enemy and get dirty.
They are trained to work together in unity, leaving nobody behind.

Marines are made for blood and war.

Christianity is not a whole lot different.
We are called to fight a spiritual battle.
When we give our lives to the Lord, we are given a call to duty -and it's not just about ourselves- we are each a part of a whole unit.
Every battle is going to have the wounded, the exhausted, the difficult missions

and that's why the body of Christ is so important~ to help each other up when one of us is wounded, to care and stand by, to bind up the broken, to stop the bleeding.
Marines in their dress uniforms probably wouldn't want to do that -they'd get their white gloves dirty.

I am afraid that too much of the church is standing around in their dress uniforms, trying to look good, but not willing to get messy.

Battle is bloody!
We are called to battle!
Life is messy, it is hard, it is painful ...and we are in it together.

I believe that one of the biggest reasons so few people are willing to get messy is that they are too busy. Their lives are maxed out.
They don't have time to get dirty and venture down an unknown path to help a fallen solider.
It would interrupt our schedule.

I believe one of the most successful tactics of the enemy for our American Christian culture is to keep us busy. 
Busy doing good things.
But too busy to notice a fallen soldier,
and too busy to care.

Years ago, I saw this acrostic:

Being
Under
Satan's
Yolk

Let's not fall prey to the enemy's tactics, let's be ruthless about fighting the busy lifestyle -the lifestyle that keeps us from having enough margin in our schedule for others.

Christians are often really good at spouting off verses and saying, "I'll pray for you", but as Casting Crowns sings, "...if we are the body, why aren't His arms reaching?  Why aren't his hands healing?"  We default the work to God and forget what we are His hands and feet.

Can I just cry out to my fellow soldiers?  If we fail each other, our mission will fail!  We are not meant to fight alone.  We need to come alongside one another by exerting more effort than just spouting off a verse and a casually trite "I'll pray for you."  We need to pray, absolutely, and ask the Lord how we can be His hands and feet in this situation.  Ask how can we take off our white gloves, put on our fatigues, and get our hands dirty.  Ask the Lord for the strength to carry our partners.

"We give them a quick scripture,

like jabbing them with a spear,

or leave them with a hurried,

uncaring word of counsel before we go. 

A heartless Christian must be a terrible grief to our Lord." 

 Oswald Chambers

The Race Conversation

Justin and I had one of those "firsts" conversations the other night.

The race conversation.

I always wondered when it would come up with him, when he would notice a difference enough to comment on it and give his feelings on the issue.  It's not that we haven't talked about it, he just hadn't brought it up on his own yet.  

He and I were sitting together on the couch while Ethan and Caleb were playing on the floor. And out of the blue Justin said to me, "Everyone in the family is white.  And I am black.  I don't want to be black."

I didn't get into any explanation about racial equality or about him fitting into the family just the same, I just did some active listening and replied,

"You don't?"

"No," he continued, "Everyone is white and I am black and I don't want to be black.  ...black isn't my favorite color."

"What is your favorite color?"

"Purple."

"Purple?"

"Yeah, I want to be purple." he smiled.

"Well, I've seen a lot of people with different kinds of white and brown and black colors on their skin, but God didn't make any people with purple skin." 

"Yeah, I wish I was purple!"  He laughed...

...and that was that.


Follow-up:
The conversation came up again today. Justin said, "I don't like having brown skin. I wish I had white skin like you." So it's been on his mind more than as a silly wish to be purple...

I told him that I love his brown skin, I think it looks beautiful. And I told him that God made people with a lot of different looks and colors just like all the pretty flowers have different colors.

I can reinforce the positive, but I know that he will live a life knowing that he looks different from the rest of his family, and I can't honestly tell him that I know what it feels like. I don't. I have no idea. I don't want to make a big deal about our differences, but I certainly don't want to minimize his feelings either.   
Lord, give me wisdom!

Get This Book!

Usually when I come across a book I'm interested in, I'll keep it in mind for a while or check it out from the library before I decide to purchase it.  But as soon as I saw this book on Amazon, I ordered it.   It arrived today and the kids and I crowded around to pour over its pages.  While I have not read all of the text or thoroughly viewed all the pictures yet, I want to eagerly plug this book!  It takes a look at places children sleep around the world -from the nauseatingly extravagant, to the deplorably inadequate. The author originally called his project "Bedrooms", but sadly, many children don't have bedrooms... or homes... 

Caleb was particularly drawn to an eight year old boy from Cambodia who lived in a garbage dump.  The picture showed a "mattress" of old tires filled with refuse and a disgusting blanket covered in flies. The text told us that he had suffered food poisoning after eating a chicken his brother found in the dump.  Caleb sat in quiet reflection for a while and then turned to me with a spark in his eye... and this is what my precious Caleb said:

"Hey Mom!  I know what we should do!  We should put good food in our garbage so that when he gets our garbage, he can have some good food to eat!"

Gulp.
Double gulp.

"Honey," I replied, "that's a wonderful idea of how we could help him.  Unfortunately, our garbage doesn't go to where he is, but there are other ways we could help people like him and I am so glad that you are thinking about it and coming up with ideas.  Let's keep thinking and asking God what we can do."

Get this book for your family.
I mean it, get this book!

A Curious Thing

Justin has been processing his adoption story as well as a three year old can.  Every once in a while he mentions how he was in "E-opia" and how we came to bring him home.  Recently he asked me, "Why did you leave me there?" So he doesn't quite yet understand the "before adoption" and "after adoption" part of his life.  But what I find a little amusing is that in the past months, he has been saying out of the blue, in completely random settings, "Well, I joined the family." I don't know what he is thinking when he says this or what spurs him to blurt it out, but he states it more to himself than anybody and with the same matter of fact tone as if he were stating that he is wearing socks.   I think it is funny and cute and sweet to hear, but it seems so disconnected from anything else going on at the time -I don't know if his mind is working through things in those moments, or if that is just his "filler phrase." (At that age, Caleb always used filler phrases that made no sense, but he would just say them to hear himself talk!)
It's one of those curious things.

I was surprised by another curious thing recently, but this one had to do with my own thinking.
Just last week, I caught myself off guard one day while I was interacting with Justin and the realization hit me that I no longer think of him as an orphan from Ethiopia who we adopted, but I just think of him as my son.  Obviously I've thought of him as my son for a long time, but his former identity had also been a prominent part of who he was to me.  Back when we first brought him home, I felt like I had a flashing light on my forehead announcing, "WE ADOPTED FROM ETHIOPIA!!"  I felt so conspicuous about it and it felt like my sole identity for a time.

I remember walking around the county fair as a thirteen year old, after I had just gotten my ears pierced, and I was sure that everyone noticed my tiny little stud earrings.  It seems silly now, but it was a new part of my identity, and I hadn't gotten used to it yet.  Now adoption is a new part of my identity, and two and a half years into it, I am beginning to wear my new identity without being aware of it.  It is almost like I forgot we adopted him.

Here is the beautiful thing about it:
Since adoption is so close to the heart of God, everything about it shows me more of Him and His heart for me.  I have always been a bit confused with how God can "forget" our sins.  He is GOD, He knows everything!  But scripture tells us that He remembers our sin no longer after He forgives us and adopts us into His family; while I was never quite sure how that worked, I trusted it to be true.  Now here is the awesome connection to adoption:  I didn't actually forget that Justin was adopted, as if it never happened, it is just no longer a part of his identity to me.  He's not my "adopted son", he is my son. Period. His life as an orphan in Ethiopia before us is a part of his past, and while I know that it will affect his present and future, as our sins affect ours, his identity to me does not involve his past.  I am not constantly remembering his past as who he is to me.  It's hard to explain.  I obviously didn't forget he was adopted, I just don't live with this constant awareness of his previous identity.  He has a new identity with me and that's how I see him.
And God sees me with a new identity as his daughter.  Not as I once was, but as I am now.
What an awesome, curious thing!

Multitasking... really?!

I know many women proudly wear the badge of being a proficient multitasker.  I'll agree that, being a woman, my mind is always thinking about many things at once; I can't compartmentalize like my husband.  I can pray while driving, I can plan a grocery list while folding laundry, I can write a letter in my head while showering, ...you get the point.

But, here is what I cannot do:

I cannot follow an unfamiliar or complicated recipe while talking to my kids.
I cannot browse the internet and listen to my husband talk at the same time.
I cannot hold a conversation on the phone and deal with my kids at the same time.  (And I've talked with enough other moms on the phone to know that they can't, either.)
I cannot read my own book while listening to my son read (honestly! I try!).
I cannot talk on the phone and watch tv (or browse online) simultaneously.
I cannot write an email or Facebook message while also holding a conversation in person.

Now, this doesn't mean I don't TRY to do these things -I do them!  Everyday I catch myself trying to "multitask" relationships. I might pretend to be able to do both things at once, but quite frankly, I cannot.  I'm just shifting attention back and forth, not fully concentrating on either one.  I cannot share concentration.  The very definition of concentration implies that it cannot be shared:  

con·cen·tra·tion   /ˌkɒnsənˈtreɪʃən/
noun
1. the act of concentrating; the state of being concentrated.
2. exclusive attention to one object; close mental application.

When I see all the portable media distraction around us, I have a sinking feeling that our culture is losing the ability to concentrate (and understanding the value of it).  And beyond concentration, we are losing the ability to show respect and value to the person in front of us.  It's almost like we have come to crave and need distraction!

I've been reading an engrossing book called The Next Story by Tim Challies, about life and faith after the digital explosion.  In it he says this: 

"Often, we assume that we must or should change to accommodate the new technology.  We doubt that the technology could itself be the cause of the problem.  We give technology the power to shape and change and fashion us, remaking ourselves in its image. ...Rather than changing the technology to fit our understanding of what is right and wrong, we change ourselves and our society's rules and mores, and we reshape ourselves in the image of the mobile phone."  (p.27)  He goes on to say that this is one step away from creating idols.

What a profound perspective!
We tend and nurture our relationship with our media as if it is giving us life, energy, purpose.  It sounds like a role only God should have in our lives!  We often ignore or disregard the people in front of us, so that we can attend to more distant or non-existent relationships online.

Challies also says this: 
"We become digitally disincarnated, people who can live and be online, present only in the virtual, mediated self.  Increasingly who we are is no longer the person people meet face-to-face, but the mediated identity we have created... We take our self, our sense of presence, and transport it into the ethereal world of bits and bytes.  Suddenly we are here and there, at a desk in body but in soul or spirit somehow present in cyberspace.  And this is new to us, new to the human experience.  When we venture into this world, this mediated world, we leave our bodies behind."  (pp.99-100) 

Reading that felt like a light bulb "duh!" moment for me.  I can't be in two places at once!  But with technology, we try, we even think we succeed at it.  We try to be present online, on Facebook, on the phone, texting, etc., while also being present wherever our physical body is, but we can't.  I can't.  When we talk about having an internet "presence", we are implying that we are present somewhere in the nebulous online world.  But that means our physical presence is "on hold" when we are mentally and emotionally present somewhere else.  I cannot hold both an online presence and a "fully present" presence in my physical world at the same time.  My kids know it, my husband knows it.  I know it.  I've been around others while they are media distracted to know that they are not fully present in their physical world at the same time, either.

Many of us have often cried in frustration, "I can't be in two places at once!" when we are feeling pulled in multiple directions, distracted, hurried, and overscheduled.  But here we are now, with our constant media presence, trying to be both here and there.  It is still impossible to be two places at once, but we try.  We just become chronically hurried, we become skimmers, we become information seekers and not understanders. We want just the facts, just the bling, we don't want to slow down, concentrate, mull over, think up a thoughtful response, enjoy moments, remember, integrate thoughts. 

I just want us to quit fooling ourselves.  Is anybody with me on this? Since reading what Challies says about our online presence, I have felt challenged in the way I use technology at home.  Do I fool myself in thinking that I am still plugged in with my family when I am also plugged in online?  I need to be honest with myself about it and realize I can't be in two places at once.  There is a time a place for everything ...just not at the same time.  I don't want to multitask relationships.

I find this book fascinating and I would highly recommend it to any media user -it is informative, challenging, convicting, and encouraging!  He doesn't condemn technology, he just wants it to be kept in its proper place.

 

Even This, Lord?!

Despite being born and raised in Wisconsin, I have never acclimated to Wisconsin winters.  I am always cold and would much prefer to hibernate on a snugly couch with a warm blanket and a book than to venture out in the frigid temperatures.  The cold seems to soak right through me and I feel defenseless against the chill.  Knowing that will help give background to this story...

Travis and I were on a date night last night and while we were driving home, I talked about how I wish I had  a winter coat that went down to my knees with a big warm hood.  I suddenly suggested, "Let's just stop by TJ Maxx and see what they have."  Travis quickly turned the other way and we headed off on an impromptu mission.

"This late in the season, they probably aren't going to have much, will they?" I mused.  "Probably not." Travis responded. 

"Well, Lord," I prayed out loud, "If you think this is something I could use, as a special blessing, I'm hoping for a long coat -to my knees, with a big warm hood... and in a color I would wear -like black."
"With fur around the hood for extra warmth," Travis added.  I laughed.

Instantly I felt a bit sheepish..."Lord, I know I really don't need  a new coat.  I am just hoping for one.  I have $50 from Christmas that I could use..."

How could I ask for a new coat when I have a perfectly good coat, there are so many people with no coat at all. 

I entered the store with eager expectation, yet feeling hesitantly restrained. We found and approached the woman's coat section and I instantly saw that it was picked over and sparse.  There were about six coats left...

Then I saw it.  It was long, it had a big hood (with fur), it was black.
I looked at the price tag: "end of season clearance"... $58.

Seriously?!  I tried it on and laughed.
I laughed out loud. 
I looked at Travis and exclaimed, "Seriously?!"
I hugged the warm hood around my face and cried, "I LOVE it!"

Thank You, Lord!

I often think that my "unnecessary" desires are not worth asking the Lord for.  How could I ask for something unnecessary for myself when I am aware of the needs of others that far surpass my own.  But I also know that I am a child of God, He is my Father.  And as a mother, I know what a joy it is to give special, unnecessary gifts and surprises to my children.  It's love. Extravagant love.  God cares about my big things, and about my little things.  It's such a good reminder and such a special gift. 
This was much more than serendipity, it was an intentional work of the Lord to remind His daughter that she matters.
He always hears me and cares, even in this. 

A Christmas Injustice

This is the most majestic, powerful, moving piece of music that I have ever heard.  It brings tears to my eyes and I am moved with emotion by its beauty.

As King George II heard it performed, he was so moved that he rose to his feet.  All his subjects rose when he did, and it's been a tradition ever since to stand when it is played.

After composing The Hallelujah Chorus, Handel is quoted as saying: "I saw Heaven opened and the host of it worshiping the Glory of God"  It truly is a magnificently inspired, and inspiring piece of art.

Yet, as Michelangelo said, "The true work of art is but a shadow of the Divine perfection."
The Hallelujah Chorus, in all its glory and majesty, is but a shadow of the inspiration behind it: The Lord God  reigns forever.

Then I came across this video of the birth of Christ combined with the Hallelujah Chorus and it also brought me to tears, but this time because I felt frustrated about the injustice of Christ's entrance into the world.  I had just watched the previous video -filled with jewels, tuxes, evening gowns, a large audience, pomp, and grandeur, it brings to my mind images from movies of baby princes being presented to their subjects.  But this next video is a jolt to reality: the humble, unknown, and unappreciated birth of Christ juxtaposed with the Hallelujah Chorus.  The chorus was written to bring glory and honor to the Lord, but we all know that the situation in which Christ was born could not have been more humble or unglorious.  It makes me frustrated with the seeming injustice of it!  Look at how much honor is given to the work of art, but it is but a shadow of the authentic, the Divine perfection, God became flesh.  We rise to our feet when we hear the music performed, but in reality Christ was cast aside, marginalized, unnoticed.



Jesus as servant king is one of His characteristics that I doubt I will ever be able to understand! He deserved a king's entrance! Mary should have held him high and proud over His subjects, the whole world. More than any king or ruler that ever lived, He deserved the fanfare, the pomp, the glory and praise.

As Paul says in Philippians, Jesus made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant.  How?! Why?!
I try, but I can't understand it.
My consolation is that He will get the praise due Him -when every knee will bow before Him (Rom. 14:11)

The music group, Downhere, puts it so well:

"How many kings step down from their thrones?

How many lords have abandoned their homes?
How many greats have become the least for me?

And how many gods have poured out their hearts
To romance a world that is torn all apart

How many fathers gave up their sons for me?

Only One did that for me..."

Adding to the Din

I’ve had an eclectic collection of thoughts that have been rolling around in my head lately and recently they have begun to coalesce to point to a common theme… the din of the online social media world.

  

First there is the time commitment:

The Letter

Over Thanksgiving I was out of town, and as always when I am away from home, I LOVED being freed from the phone, email, and Facebook. When away, I rarely ever check my messages –I like being distraction free… But I’ve wondered why I like the “freed” feeling so much. Are those things such a burden to be weighed down by? The phone, email, FB, blogs, are all used to connect me to people, to my friends and family. Why does it sometimes feel like a burden? Humans, especially women (especially stay-at-home moms), love to connect, to be in community. It’s a good thing, we are made for it. Even Cassatt's painting from the days of the pre-telephone era shows the value and desire for connection, for correspondence.

Connecting is a good thing. But holding onto the rope that I use to maintain ties can turn into a tug-of-war when I am being distracted from my real time, real life responsibilities: planning and preparing meals, teaching my children, doing laundry, talking with my husband, family time… When the kids say, “mom” and without turning my head from the computer screen I say, “just a sec” -that is a negative tug-of-war.

I don’t necessarily feel like I am online too much, but how much is too much? When has it become a hindrance, a distraction, an interference, and waste of time?

I don't often post on Facebook; I usually just like to see what’s going on with others. I feel like I frequently filter through all the noise to try to find something important. Although I sometimes feel envious, annoyed, or bored with what I spend my time sifting through, I always wonder, what if someone posted something important that I should know and care about?! I don’t want to be insensitive by not seeing it and commenting!  But I can’t put that pressure on myself. If I needed to know it, they could tell me specifically or personally.  I have quit trying to keep up with everyone's updates.  I simply can't.

So I have a tug-of-war at home between my laptop and my “real life”. The temptation is always there to be online longer than I should, or to seek significance online. But I have my private personal life to live, my small circle of family that I have a significant influence on, then there are widening circles of friends and family as my influence fades. I know that if my Facebook presence would disappear tomorrow, no one would bat an eye. So how much of my time belongs there? God has given me the particular people and relationships He has intended for me, my personal circle of influence.  I cannot and should not try to expand those circles beyond what He intended for me; He knows my limits better than I do.  Everyone outside my family has other friends and other family to fill in the gaps of my failures, but my kids have only one mom and my husband has only one wife. If I fail in those areas, there is no one else to pick up my slack!

I also have been interested in the cultural effects of the connected, social media world:

In The Facebook Effect, (a book describing the beginnings of and cultural effects of Facebook), author David Kirkpatrick reports the claim that Facebook is so wildly popular because of humans’ drive towards voyeurism and narcissism. I totally believe it… can you disagree?!  How do we handle the positive side of staying connected without falling into these traps?

I’ve wondered why I want to check my email or Facebook so often throughout the day. I’m certainly not bored, I have plenty to do at home. How come something a person is saying online seems more important than what my kids or husband have to say?! When I have those little red numbers at the top of my FB page, it’s exciting… but they are really nothing to be excited about. So I found it quite interesting in Alone Together, when author and psychologist Sherry Turkle said, “Connectivity becomes a craving; when we receive a text or an e-mail, our nervous system responds by giving us a shot of dopamine. We are stimulated by connectivity itself. We learn to require it, even as it depletes us.” (p227)  So seeing those red numbers on FB are giving us shots of dopamine! Is that why it excites us? Knowing that there is a physiological reaction involved, I somehow feel more equipped to resist the urge. I can resist the dopamine craving!  It's not the message itself that's thrilling, but the physiological response to being connected. Interesting! Bizarre!

Then there is the issue of announcing everything to everyone:

When Elizabeth, in her old age, became pregnant with John the Baptist, the result of a promise and deep blessing from the Lord, Elizabeth kept in quiet seclusion for five months. Many believe she did so to spend her time in meditation on the goodness and mercies of God and to give praise to Him. Fascinating! Think of her temptation to share the news if she had Facebook or a blog!

Likewise, when Mary gave birth to Jesus, the shepherds told others and all who heard were amazed, BUT, “Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.” (Luke 2:19) Quiet, alone, between her and her Lord, sweetly personal, overwhelming, breathtaking, mind boggling. The contrast that strikes me is that she didn’t boast, brag, or shout out that she just gave birth to the Savior of the world! She didn’t blog about it, tweet about it, text, call, IM, FB… it to all of her friends and “sort-of” friends. She pondered them in her heart.

It just gets me wondering…

In our age of Facebook and Twitter and blogs, is anything kept quiet?
Is anything pondered in our hearts?
Is anything kept between us and God?
If some things are, should more be?
How much needs to be shared?
What are we looking for? From FB and blog posts that I see, often it seems people are looking for applause, sympathy, admiration, pity, respect… but sometimes we just want to be known, to connect, to share life with each other. Some want to encourage, some need to be encouraged. There is a good and appropriate time for and use of social media, but with all things there needs to be moderation, not only with time, but with the amount and quality of sharing, and I need to continually examine my motives for what and how and when I share.

I've also been thinking about the “noise” online…

I imagine a single person alone, thinking. Then I see two people in quiet, meaningful conversation, then it grows to a small group with a little more distraction, then a larger group with more noise, and on and on until three is such a loud, chaotic mass of people that no one can hear anyone, but everyone is shouting, trying to be heard.
That’s how I tend to see the online world. Everyone is talking; there is so much to hear, so much noise, that nobody can really hear anybody.
In listening to everyone, we hear no one.

A.W. Tozer said, “The old question, ‘what is the chief end of man?’ is now answered, ‘to dash about the world and add to the din thereof’.” -and that was 56 years ago!  I read that a few years ago and I keep hearing it in my mind. I do not want to be a part of the noisy, self-seeking, chaotic, frantic whirlwind of this world! I want peace, rest, stillness, purposefulness, I want contentedness!  And the old answer to the "old question" is "to glorify God and enjoy Him forever".  Yeah, I want that.

In 2008 there were 184 millions blogs – seriously?! Who am I to be squeaking out little sounds over here in my corner of the blog world?! I realize I have a quiet corner, but you are here reading my thoughts, and I appreciate your interest in it! If what I have to say only reaches a few people, but they are the few people that the Lord had planned and directed to hear what I have to say, then that is what it should be. I don’t desire to seek more “followers”, but when I make a post, I ask the Lord to bring whoever He wants to read it to see it. I am often amazed to read a comment from someone who came across my blog and needed to hear that particular thing that day. The Lord directs our paths.

“In quietness and trust is your strength.” Isaiah 30:15

Our strength is not in our number of Facebook friends, or blog followers, or the number of comments on our posts, or how many comments we leave for others, or how many comments we get on our comments... or if others think we are wise, funny, smart, kind…

As I'm processing all of these issues and questions, I think that here is what I need to be focusing on asking myself:

1. What does God want me to say?
2. Who does He want me to say it to?
3. What does God not want me to say?
4. What does God want me to listen to?
5. What does God not want me to listen to?

I can’t end this post without sharing this music video. Lecrae’s words sing the desire of my heart for my blog, my friendships, my life.

“Take lead of me and I’ll play the background.”

The question I need to keep asking myself in all honesty is, am I ok with that?

It’s not about me, if I’m heard, if I’m admired. It’s about me pointing to the Lord.

That’s really all that matters, I have nothing to say that hasn’t been said before, but I can share about the ways that God has gripped my heart and my life, to share how He is moving and teaching me…. If what I say gives honor and glory and joy to Him, then I think I’m on track. I don’t just want to add to the din.

"You be the Girl"

Justin and I have a little role-playing "game" we play.  He has always initiated it since before he could talk.  He curls up in my arms like a little baby -and often fake whines- while I cuddle and rock him.  When he started to talk, he would say, "I baby".  Later on, though, as he became more verbal and self-revealing, he began saying more- "I'll be the baby and you be the girl."

"You be the girl."

Not "momma", but "the girl". 
He does this at least daily.  He added more requirements to the scenario in the past few months when he began to add, "Pretend you have on a dress."  Interestingly, all the nannies in his orphanage wore dresses.  I have asked him a couple of times, "What does the girl do?" 
"Put me to bed." he answers.  

I believe he has a memory, a sense, of being rocked and comforted as a baby and he escapes to this memory, this feeling, by using me as a fill-in.  For a long while I've indulged.  I love having him snuggle with me and I realize he probably feels comfort by reliving those memories -those moments as a baby when he was learning where he could find comfort, where his "safe place" was in a time when all babies are in the trust building phase of development.

But then I started to object internally.  I realized he almost never cuddled with me without saying, "I'll be the baby and you be the girl."  Me being his momma wasn't enough.  I began to feel like I didn't have his authentic affection.  I began to feel the "other woman" type feeling.  Like how it would feel if Travis and I were to snuggle and he would say, "let's pretend you are my ex-girlfriend."

Ouch.  That would hurt.

And it does with Justin.  My heart began to wince when he would say it.  So I finally decided I needed to redirect these moments.  Just a few weeks ago, when he would snuggle with me and say, "you be the girl", I replied, "I'll be your momma and you be my baby."  I added, "I'm your momma and I love to hold you because I love you and want to take care of you."
I kept reinforcing this every time, everyday.

And then it happened.

A few days ago, he crawled into my lap and I was just waiting for his inevitable "you be the girl", then he said it:

"You be the momma and I'll be the baby."

My heart leapt.

I squeezed him tight and whispered in his ear, "I love being your momma!"

Led to Action

November is adoption awareness month.  So I thought I'd use that reason to pour out a long, heartfelt entry about the path I've been on post-adoption.

Two years ago, after we brought Justin home, I heard about the Christian Alliance for Orphans Summit being held in the Twin Cities.  I eagerly signed up to go and was giddy with the number of amazing sounding speakers, topics, and breakout sessions.  As I signed up for a bunch of sessions on adoption and biracial families, I noticed that there were a number of sessions on how to start orphan or adoption ministries in your church -and I immediately thought no, no, no, that's not what I'm about!  I'm just going to learn more about adoption and just quietly follow in the path God has brought me on.  -I'm not an activist or rally-the-troops type of person.  I'm a quiet, stay-at-home, homeschooling mom.  I just live my quiet life and mind my own business. 

So with that, off I went to the conference.  While there, one of the speakers mentioned Proverbs 31:8  "Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves" and applied it to the need to speak up for orphans who have no voice.  I jotted the verse down and it continued to play in my mind that weekend.  On the way home I stopped to visit my parents, and while there, I saw an old worn painting and thought with a gasp, That is Proverbs 31:8!  My dad gave it to me and I continue to see it as a strong depiction of that verse's meaning -being a voice for the voiceless.

In the months to follow, I kept asking the Lord what it looks like to speak for those who cannot speak for themselves.  What could I do?  How do I be a voice for the voiceless?  What made it harder was there didn't seem to be many people around me that wanted to hear about it.  Months later, while I was still wrestling with what that looked like, my Bible study was going through the rather obscure book of Amos.  As we were reading through a particular chapter, a passage jumped out and grabbed me.  Here is my very loose and condensed paraphrase of the passage: 
Amos is prophesying the message God had given him.  Nobody liked what they heard, it was bothersome and uncomfortable.  The priest went to Amos and told him to stop it, go home, nobody want to hear this.  Amos replied that he is not a prophet, he was just a shepherd, but God gave him a message to tell and he continued to speak.  He didn't back down, he pressed on with message God had laid on his heart.(from Amos 7:10-16) 

These verses shook me with the similarities I was feeling.  The Lord put a message on my heart, an ache and cry for the voiceless children without parents, advocates, protectors.  Children are being trafficked in HUGE numbers across the globe (human trafficking is the number one business in the world).  There is such poverty in the world, and not just financial, but relational, spiritual, emotional...  I felt overwhelmed with the glimpses the Lord was giving me of His heart and the world, and I honestly couldn't find many people who wanted to talk about it.  I felt like I should just "move on" and start living the comfortable American life like everyone around me.  Additionally, I related to Amos as he said "I'm not a prophet...I'm a shepherd..." It sounded a lot like my thoughts earlier: I'm not an activist...I'm just a quiet stay-at-home mom.  But God has put the message on my heart, a desire to be a voice for the voiceless.

And then this past year we had wanted to adopt again, but after seeking the Lord on it, it was clear to both of us that His answer was not now.  We both were seeking the Lord individually and when we talked about it, we each felt like the Lord was telling us to stay here.  I believed the Lord was leading me to turn to my kids and focus on how to know and love and bond with Justin at this time.  And while in the throes of seeking God's direction, Travis heard a passage read from Mark from when Jesus healed the wild man in the cemetery.  After his healing, and experiencing the work of the Lord, the man wanted to get into the boat with Jesus and go with Him.  Jesus didn't let him, but rather told him, "Return home and tell how much God has done for you."  It spoke to Travis' heart as how God was directing us.  I couldn't understand it, we knew that the Lord was working with the orphans; I never felt so close to the heart of God as when we entered that world, we wanted to keep going, to get back into the boat and follow Him back, but He said, "return home."

That brings us to now.  I am amazed with the number of families in our church that are in the process or thinking of adopting!  We have family members in the process, and there are some wonderful families that are newer to our church that are in process or praying about adopting.  This is nothing like just two years ago!  When we started the process, there were few adoptive families in our church, and sadly most of them had felt like they were pretty much on their own.  Honestly, other than a couple of exceptions, we felt that way as well.  But it feels like a movement is growing in our church. I am blown away because one of the speakers I heard at the conference two years ago said that he travels around the country talking to churches about adoption and orphan care and he stressed that all around the country, people are saying that the Lord has been stirring their heart towards adoption.  I had chills when I heard that because that is exactly how I describe how we came to adopt:  "God stirred our hearts for it".  This speaker revealed how this is a large stirring, a God-sized stirring, in the hearts of Christians around the country and globe!  It is big, and I am blessed to be a part of it!  To see that our little story is a part of a bigger, huge story of God stirring hearts is beyond exhilarating!

Recently some friends and I have started a group for adoptive moms at our church, and on an upcoming Sunday, I am even having a table in our church lobby to advocate and raise awareness for adoption and orphan care!  ...ME!  It makes me chuckle thinking about it because I so assuredly told myself that I'm not going down that road, I'm just quietly doing my thing!   But this isn't about me, it's about them.  It's about those who don't have a voice, who don't have anyone to speak for them.  And for that reason, I shout "I will speak up!" 

God told us to "return home and tell how much God has done for you."  So we've been sharing our story, I will unabashedly tell the work the Lord is doing in and through adoption, how His heart so deeply beats for orphans, and how I feel His heartbeat the strongest when I enter the world of the weak, the voiceless, the poor, the nameless, the unloved.  His plan is for the church to be the arms and feet of His love to reach them.  And if quiet little me can make a difference and be a voice, I will do my part!