The Daughters of My Heart

There's a little girl who calls me mama who turned 12 yesterday. But I didn't bake her a cake, or sing to her as she blew out her candles, or watch her smile from one ear to the other as she opened gifts from her mom and dad and siblings.

Simply because, although I love her as my daughter and she loves me as her mother, the world only recognizes me as her sponsor through a charitable organization. (I guess I should post some kind of "Really Depressing" warning on this one.)

I was prepared for many things when we started our adoption of Daniel, but I wasn't prepared to fall in love with two little girls at his orphanage. Children who aren't adoptable because they have an aunt who visits a few times a year. (This aunt loves them dearly but is a very young single lady and can't afford to adopt them herself. We asked the girls if they wanted us to help their aunt to financially be able to care for them and they cried that they didn't want to live with her but wanted to be part of our family.)

I wasn't prepared to meet these sisters who would show me that my heart had the capacity to love them as much as I do my biological children. I wasn't prepared to watch them cry as I left from my first mission trip almost three years ago. I wasn't prepared for that love to grow each time we visited (16 times in the past 3 years). And I certainly wasn't prepared to take Daniel to say good-bye to his friends at the orphanage only to face their tears and cries of, "Take me, too! Take me, too!"

I've had some hard days in my life. I've buried a child. I've lost a mother. But trying to explain to two precious girls who I love as daughters why I can't bring them home . . . well, it moved that day last December into the top three of days that I would never want to relive.

I mentioned in a past post here about something we were praying fervently for as a family. It was about these girls. I've cried out to God to move mountains and part seas so they could be adopted, but right now the mountains remain and the seas seem too deep and never-ending. And so I try to move on, knowing that there are 147 million children in the world who are adoptable and desperately need homes. I look at photo listings of precious faces, but can't help thinking "but they aren't Vivi and Eluvia."

And you know that unsettled feeling a mom has when one of her kiddos is at a sleepover elsewhere? I feel that every night because two are always missing. Daniel reminds me on an almost daily basis saying, "Don't forget them, Mom." And I tell him I never will--there's no expiration date on love.

I ask God why. Why out of 450 children from Daniel's orphanage did I fall in love with these two? Perhaps our role was only to be their sponsors. But it doesn't seem to be enough for children whose hearts long for a family.

So this week I've been sad. I looked through photos of a party we gave her when she turned 10. (I'll share those and an amazing story about that party on another day.)

Then I looked at photos of the one we did for her dorm when she turned 11. Our whole crew was there because we spent most of June last year living in Guatemala. Viviana wanted a Hannah Montana party. My girls insisted there must be a blonde wig involved.












This is the only photo I have of us all together. Even though I'm as green as my shirt (I had a bad stomach bug that day), it is one of my favorite photos because our family looks whole.



I couldn't bear the thought of her birthday coming and going without anything. No cake, no candles, no card--nothing different from every other day of the year. I e-mailed our favorite driver in Guatemala who was such a blessing to us during Daniel's adoption and has become our dear friend. I asked if there was any way he could take a cake and some balloons to her orphanage. I attached this photo so he would remember who I was talking about.



(A year ago, he drove us to an amusement park where that photo was taken.)

Well, last night I got these photos. This is what he blessed me with.











Apparently Viviana was allowed to choose a few friends to join her at a picnic table to have some birthday cake. And I was so happy to see they let her little sister (who lives in a different dorm) join her. But the photos are also hard to look at. They've grown up so much in just a year.

I cried happy tears. Happy knowing that she understands that we remembered her birthday and wish we could have been there. I also cried sad tears. Sad knowing what kind of day she would have had here with our family. (Here is the post about Daniel's first birthday home.)

Thanks for letting me cry on your cyber shoulder. I know many of you are adoptive parents who love children that you had to leave behind.

Happy 12th birthday, Viviana--the daughter of our hearts! May you know how loved you are all the days of your life.

Much Love,
Your Sponsor Mama
Still Praying You Home!

Sunday Dinner: Divine 911

I first have to say that the comments you guys leave are better than the actual posts. Thanks for taking the time to write!

It's Sunday dinner time again. For any new readers, the inspiration behind it is here. But in a nutshell, it's a dinner of scripture with a dessert of song.

I must share a little story before I serve "dinner". The other day, I was reviewing personal info. with the boys to make sure they knew their phone number, address, etc. I told them about 911 and explained that if there was ever an emergency, that was the number to call. Their eyes grew bigger as I explained that by just dialing those 3 numbers, they could have a fire truck, an ambulance, and a police car at our house in minutes. They both responded with "cool".

A couple days later, Brady hurt his leg when he was skipping through the kitchen and hit it on the corner of the opened dishwasher door. He moaned and rolled on the floor in agony. Daniel and I came to his aid and Daniel asked, "Mom, do you want me to call 911?!" I tried not too laugh. His concern for his brother was so sweet. I also knew he was just itching to summons every emergency vehicle within a ten mile radius.

Once Brady's injury stopped hurting, I thought it best to clarify with the boys about WHEN we might need to call 911. I explained that, yes, Brady was hurt, but it was an injury that didn't need a doctor's help. I also reminded Daniel that when he broke his arm, it was an emergency so we took him to the ER. But since it wasn't life-threatening, Daddy was able to drive him and we didn't need an ambulance.

Thus started the quizzing of what would classify as necessary for a 911 call. Daniel asked, "If someone hits me in the head with a baseball bat and my head splits open and one eye is hanging out . . . would we call 911?"

I answered yes and let him know that someone would also need to request help for Mom who would certainly be out cold.

Brady didn't want to be outdone so he piped up with, "Okay, what if I'm carrying something really heavy, and my arms rip right off my body and they are gushing out blood . . . would we call 911?"

Oh goodness, my boys are going to grow up to either create horror movies or cartoons.

This really disgusting lunchtime conversation went on for a few minutes . . . each time they were so pleased to come up with a scenario worthy of emergency care. They egged each other on with, "Ooooo, that's a good one!"

Then it got me thinking. I asked the boys, "What kind of emergency do you need to have to call on God for help?" Long pause with tune from "Jeopardy" playing in the background. (Apparently this game wasn't as fun.)

They finally answered with "Anything!" I reminded with, "There is no request too big or too small. We can ask God for help any time."

This week's dinner of scripture is:

"In the day of my trouble I will call to you, for you will answer me."

Psalm 86:7, NIV

"Then you will call, and the Lord will answer; you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I. "

Isaiah 58:9, NIV

There are many great verses on calling on God and calling out His name, but these are two of my favorites. I've called out God's name a lot this weekend. We have dear friends, the Montes family, who left this morning for Guatemala to try to convince a government to let them complete their adoption of a little boy who has been their son in their hearts for almost 3 years. I've been calling God's name for a bloggy friend Linny, as her husband has gotten terribly sick while on a mission trip to Uganda. And we attended a prayer time tonight for a dear man named Tony battling cancer.

And in the midst of these "emergencies", I've prayed that God would soften my children's hearts this morning at church to hear the message being shared. I've prayed that God would help me to have wisdom and patience through this busy weekend. Don't we have a good God who can listen to the urgent and not-so-urgent at the same time? He never has to put our requests on hold because someone else has a greater need. We don't have to reach a level of emergency for God to care. I'm going to have to borrow my sons' comment and just say "cool".

This week's dessert of song is "Your Name"--this version is sung by two of my favorite artists, Phil Wickham and Paul Baloche. As you go about your week, may you remember that you can call His name for any need and He will answer.

More Than Lots,
Kathie

Dipped in Goodness: Lessons from the Easter Egg

Sorry I haven't had much time to write lately. I've got a project I'm working on and four little people (and one husband) who need much of my time, so I'm sneaking in my bloggy time here and there.

I don't mean to hit you with another "Lessons from the . . . ", but I've had a burden on my heart about something and just need to jot these feelings down. These thoughts may be controversial to some--I am not judging anyone or telling others what to do. These are just convictions for my own life and family. Here goes.

It's this time of year that we like to dye Easter eggs. As you know, they start out pure white, but are so porous that they absorb whatever color they are placed in. And dipped in the right colors, they are beautiful. On occasion my kids have dipped that poor egg in every color. And it looks like elephant droppings. And then they let it soak in one color with the hope that they can salvage it, but usually it is too late to make look better.

The eggs that turn out the best are the ones where they just choose one or two colors and let it sit in the rich dye until it is as vibrant as a jewel. I love hearing the "ooohs" and "ahhs" when the kids pull the finished product out and behold it's beauty.

Our egg dying makes me think of how this mirrors our daily life. You see, we all start out as these pure white eggs. Many of us are fortunate to be placed in families that dip us in beautiful colors of love, faith, and encouragement. And not just dipped, we soak in it.

But what happens when a child is dipped into too many different colors. What happens when we are dipped in the beauty of love and encouragement, then next into anger and selfishness. First into things that are "good, pure, and lovely" then next into discouragement and lies of this world. What happens when children are given too much freedom in dipping their own eggs? Allowed too much liberty in choosing their music, what TV/movies/books/video games they view, how they spend their time.

What happens when we as parents dip ourselves in colors that aren't consistent with the colors we are wanting our children to be? When we bring words and actions, entertainment and influences into our home, thinking it is appropriate for us, yet forgetting how directly our dye drips onto them.

I guess these thoughts are at the forefront of my mind these days as I realize how many times Daniel has been dipped into colors I would never have chosen for my sweet son. How many times do I have to tell him he's loved and special to undo that he's been dipped in words and abuse that have told him he is worthless? How many times will I have to dip him in scripture and prayer to undo the years of seeing and experiencing evil? I'm coming to the realization that I can't undo what has been done. His sweet egg is cracked and the dye has seeped through to his spirit. Only the Creator of the eggs can correct man's mistakes. Only He can heal the broken. Only He can restore Daniel. But as a parent, it is heartbreaking and humbling that I am not enough, our love is not enough. Praise God that He is always enough.

I know I'm probably preaching to the choir. You all are most likely the people who carefully dip their families in goodness. But even so, I would like to encourage you all to guard your hearts and your children's hearts. It is much easier to keep them from being dipped in the wrong things than it is to undo what has stained them.

And it is the Christian family that is the most at risk. I often think we've got the door locked and the security system armed, only to realize that I've left windows wide open or invited the enemy in. Be vigilant. Sit down as a family as often as possible to pray and read the Bible together. Pray in the car and throughout your daily activities. Make a conscious effort to build each other up because every thing else is working overtime to tear them down. Question EVERYTHING that comes into your home. It's not always a choice between good and bad. Sometimes it's a choice between fine and best. Don't let your family waste it's time on things that don't edify-things that don't soak them in goodness. Sitting in clear vinegar may not harm them, but it will dilute their color. They will need that layer of rich color at times they aren't with you and you can't help them make wise choices. They will need it when the pollution of living in a fallen world rains down on their lives.

Forgive me if I've sounded preachy. This is actually my personal "grocery list." These are things I need to remember every minute of my day. To remember to ask God to protect my marriage, my children, my family, my church, and my country. Then surrender it all on the altar before the Lord and know that He is Almighty, He is Sovereign, and He is Good.

And today I'm grateful to see Daniel's chaos of color slowly change to pure beauty and his broken places heal. It's not my efforts doing it . . . but God's grace. If you listen closely you'll hear the "ooohhhs" and "aaahhs" from this grateful mom as the masterpiece of our son is revealed.

From One Cracked Egg,

Kathie

Trusting the Gift-Giver: Lessons from the Suitcase

Sunday's post was about prayer. Today I thought I'd share a little story that made me think differently about the things I pray for and how God answers. (This goes under the "Lessons from the . . ." series.) By the way, the photo above was taken this morning. Brad just returned from a business trip and the bedhead brothers were playing in his suitcase. They're too cute together.

I must preface this story by sharing that my dear sister last week said I gave her "emotional whiplash" because first she read Monday's funny post, then Sunday's sentimental post. She politely asked for some kind of warning in the future so I wouldn't leave her a hysterical mess as she started her day. Thus, I'll try to give a heads up if Kleenex is needed.

This post comes with a different warning. It may be too "female" for some male readers. My husband personally prefers to live in oblivion when it comes to female stuff which made for great fun in the delivery room and is quite entertaining to watch as his daughters go through puberty. Anyway, if any information is too much information, you might want to skip this one.

Quick background. We visited Daniel in Guatemala A LOT over our two and a half year adoption. (I think 16 times was our total.) Each time we had suitcases packed with goodies for him and other children at his orphanage. Usually I'd bring my personal belongings in my carry-on so I could take as much as possible to the kids. But when I arrived in Guatemala the day after Thanksgiving, I knew I might be there a while trying to finish our adoption and actually packed some of my own things in the Sampsonite treasure chest.

When we got to our hotel, Daniel excitedly opened the suitcases looking for treats. Unfortunately I had packed some feminine products that to my embarrassment he found before I had a chance to stash them. He saw the box of goodies beautifully wrapped in individual packaging and just knew it was something yummy. He begged for one. I told him that they were mine. He whined and pouted and begged some more. "Please!!!! Can I at least have one after dinner?"

I wasn't sure how to handle this. I could explain what these items were and scar him for life and he'd end up like his dad afraid to catch an accidental glimpse of his daughter's open purse or come within 10 feet of her bathroom.

I looked him in the eyes and as sincerely as I could muster said, "Daniel, sometimes I'm going to have to tell you no. And sometimes you're not going to understand why. At those times I need you to trust me that I know what's best. This is one of those times."

To my relief he put the "treats" down and said, "Okay."

After he went to bed that night, I reflected on what had happened. I wondered if God was trying to teach me something. You see, I had gone to Guatemala with one purpose . . . bringing Daniel home. And in my determination, I wasn't factoring the possibility that perhaps God had a different plan. Sitting before me was a gift that was perfectly packaged--a precious little boy coming home for his first Christmas. Why on earth would God not grant me that gift? But then I remembered "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways" (Isaiah 55:8, NIV).

Although I am instructed to "make my requests known" and "pray fervently", I also rest in knowing that if God tells me no, I must trust that His plan is perfect. As I chewed on those thoughts I got an e-mail from my attorney letting me know that there was an error on our certifications that would delay things a week. It was the first of many setbacks and roadblocks that we would encounter over the next six weeks. I needed the reminder that day to surrender to whatever God had planned--without whining, pouting, or questioning.

You know that the ending of this story and the answer to that prayer was to have Daniel home on Christmas Eve, but there have been times that I've prayed and begged and pleaded with God for something and the answer was no. I prayed for my mother to be healed of her cancer. I saw this gift with perfect packaging and thought of how much glory it would bring to God if he spared her life. I prayed for God to spare our Baby Luke's life. To breathe new life into our baby in the womb and bring others to understanding God's power. But God simply said, "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts" (Isaiah 55:9, NIV).

So on that day last November, I replayed my words to Daniel, "Sometimes I'm going to have to tell you no. And sometimes you're not going to understand why. At those times I need you to trust that I know what's best. This is one of those times." And I realized I needed to lay my perfectly packaged wants on the altar and just say, "Okay."

Some day I'll tell Daniel the story of the forbidden goodies and he will turn all shades of red and laugh at how badly he wanted those feminine products. And some day I'll get to heaven and I'll feel foolish for wanting something so badly when God had a plan that was so much better.

From One Imperfectly Packaged Feminine Product,
Kathie

Sunday Dinner: James 5:16/Philippians 4:6--"Knees to the Earth"

Sorry I haven't posted in a while. Nothing wrong. Just wonderfully busy. Sometimes I feel like the only civilian mom in a world of Supermoms. Perhaps I've got a cape hidden somewhere under a pile of laundry. If I find it, I promise I'll post something each day.

If I only have time once a week to post (although plan to I do more . . . really), I want it to be on Sunday. It motivates me to meditate on a different verse for the week and share about another favorite song. This week I've chosen two very well-known gems.

"The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much." James 5:16, KJV

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God."
Philippians 4:6, NIV

I must confess that years ago I had times in my life that I've spoken the words, "I'm praying for you" then never actually did. Part of it was the thought that if God is in control of all things and knows all things, then it seems unnecessary for me to ask God to care for a situation that He is already working on. I also thought that prayer was kind of like a vote in a Presidential election--I already know so many others who are praying so what is my little prayer going to do to change things.

But at other times in my life, I've seen the power of prayer firsthand. I've seen jaw-dropping answers in impossible situations. I've watched faith grow and hearts soften. I've felt perfect peace in the midst of unyeilding pain. I've prayed for biggies like healing for a loved one with cancer. And I've prayed for little things like needing wisdom to parent my child that day.

Prayer delights our Creator. Prayer builds our faith. Prayer glorifies God. Prayer shows our surrender to His authority. Prayer brings perfect peace.

Few times in my life have a prayed more than during our adoption. When I felt worried, I'd meet God on my knees and after my prayer time would always feel such calm that it was going to be okay.

I often felt that it was a spiritual tug of war to get Daniel home. I think perhaps we'd still be waiting if we had not had so many interceding on our behalf. I even had a dear lady from the Guatemalan government write the following comment on my blog.

"Hello Kathie, I'm from Guatemala City and I work in the place where your file was finally release last Friday to get your baby boy's birth certificate. Your husband gave me your blog address so I can catch up on this process. You just have no idea how much it makes me happy to know that Daniel and your husband will be home for Christmas Eve. It makes me realize how wonderful it’s God’s plan for our lives, it definitely has a special one for Daniel’s life… to find a beautiful and loving family like yours. As I’m sure your husband told you, your file wasn’t gonna be ready until this week, but he told me your story and God made the rest, the thing is that your file got out so fast that I wanted to contact you and write about this so the people who reads your blog knew that their prayers definitely worked!... Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you and your family. God bless you all and Merry Christmas!!!
Kind Regards,
Gabby"

And perhaps the sweetest prayers uttered on our behalf were from children. From the kids in our daughter's classes to children of our friends, many people wrote that they were praying as a family. You'll never know how much that meant to us. Here's something one of my dear friends wrote about her daughter when we found out Daniel was coming home.

"While putting her to bed tonight she had this to say 'Mommy, Daniel is coming home. I have prayed for him to come home for a long time. God has answered my prayer.' She said all this with a huge smile. So cool when a 7 year old figures out that God does listen and can answer prayers."

And then there were the words of a little boy who, after nine years, got to spend his first Christmas with a family:

"I made it home for Christmas because God answered our prayers."

God convicted me a year ago that I wasn't praying "fervently." Apparently the whispers in my Father's ear weren't what He wanted from me. I think my lack of zeal was because I was tired. I know there's not an expiration date on prayers, but I had kind of hit a wall with our adoption. But then I began to ponder what "fervently" means. It changed the way I go to God. Now when I tell someone I'm going to pray for them, I mean it. And these prayers will be spoken on my knees, crying out to the Lord. I've also learned the importance of fasting. (And that I need to post caution tape and warning signs when I do because of blood sugar issues.) And I've learned how beautiful it is to pray as a family.

There are many burdens on my heart today. Burdens for two dear people who just found out they have cancer. Burdened for 147 million orphans. Burdened for a country recovering from an earthquake. Oh, my list is long. But I will place my burdens--great and small--at the foot of the cross.

This week's song is "Knees to the Earth" by Watermark. It's one of my favorites and is a great one to have playing when you go to the Lord in prayer. (And my favorite "knees to the earth" story is here if you haven't yet read about my prayer warrior grandmother.)

If you have a request you'd like me to pray for, post in the comments below or e-mail to kdwilliams12@comcast.net. And thanks for the gift of your prayers for our family.

Have a Blessed Week,
Kathie