Episode XXXIX just got a new ending...there was an important detail that I wanted to record, a precious moment that I thought happened later in the week but in fact that happened on the day we said goodbye to Basundhara. In case anyone wants to go back and read the new ending, I just thought you should know that there was one. :)
Monday, August 27, 2012
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Our Cramazing May, Episode XLIII: Post Office and the Ginger
I must admit that at this point, I was a bit foggy on what we were doing next. That's because, of course....Really Important Man had just said YES! I didn't really care where we were going next! But very quickly, I began to understand what was happening.
Rim had said yes; it was cramazing news. But the catch was that he was mailing the passports in the regular mail. They were due to arrive at Basundhara (the orphanage) sometime the next afternoon. Overall, that was great, but the operative words were "due to" and "sometime". We had to do everything we could to be proactive and make sure that the postal system was working well. After all, our plane was set to leave at 7 p.m. the next evening, and Basundhara was an hour away from the airport...the timing was proving to be very tight!
So off we went in the taxi to our next stop: the central post office for all of Bhubaneswar. We walked in, looking for the one specific person--the postmaster general--who could possibly help us. The guards, looking warily at the foreigners walking into the local government building, pointed us to the 2nd floor (What would we have done were it not for Tuna?!) . No dice. Back to the lobby and to a directory of some sort. Fourth floor is what we wanted. Near-empty building. Hollow sounds. Marble steps. Cobwebs in the corners. Finally, the 4th floor and a look around. I remember thinking how in America, you would never find a 5-story building with no elevators.
Eventually, we found a door with the correct title displayed and a name under it. And this is where it gets cramazing...Tuna says, "There is an elder at my church with that name." Unfortunately, we had arrived during the lunch hour, which explained the near-complete desertion of the place. So, of course, we decided we would wait in the hallway...which we didn't have to do for long because before we knew it, here comes....Tuna's elder from church, the postmaster general!
In an instant, we went from praying and wondering and hoping......to praising and rejoicing and delighting. Not because the passports were in our hands, by any means, but because of God's obvious and great ability to orchestrate events.
Scott and I were given a great welcome, and our new friend was so pleased to hear that fellow Christians were adopting children from his country. He and Tuna spoke a good bit of back-and-forth banter in Oriya, but when it came to details of the passport, they spoke in English. "I can do nothing until Rim puts the passports in the mail. But once they are in the mail, I will do everything in my power to get them to you quickly!"
An arrangement was make for Tuna to call in the morning to check and make sure that the passports were in the mail. If so, they would be delivered to the Cuttack mail station in the morning, and we could then drive there and meet the mail courier to retrieve them.
It was a tenuous scenario, but we were in the best situation possible, all things considered. We had done all we could do and could do nothing more but wait 'til morning and see if Really Important Man did what he said he would do.
And pray. For after all, God was in control.
We thanked our new friend and headed back to the Ginger, and when we arrived, we found Hoffbeast with L, Rex, and Tom....and all of our luggage. Karen had needed to rest, so Hoffbeast was a champ (as usual) and was babysitting the luggage and entertaining the kids. Keep in mind, of course, that we had been hoping that we could leave that day, but it was not to be. So we again got rooms for the night and began lugging our things upstairs. We were thankful that this building had an elevator. :)
We we soooo hungry, so we grabbed some lunch and then spent the rest of the afternoon hanging out with our friends, taking a nap, and praising our God for what He was doing in our hearts and lives.
L and her mama
The Daddy and his boys
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Our Cramazing May, Episode XLII: Passport Office, Part 2
I think the reason that it's taken me this long to write this post (besides the fact that we've had a very full, very busy summer) is that I feel like it's the climax of the cramazingness. I mean, really. What we experienced in Room #4 was near-miraculous. Even if not a technical miracle, it was definitely the hand of God reaching down and answering specific, immediate prayers...specifically and immediately.
Awesome, isn't it, that He is above and beyond time? For us, it was "immediate", but for Him, it just was. And is. His ways are unfathomable, and as I praised Him then, I praise Him now, just thinking about it.
Room 4 was cold (It felt wonderful!) and not nearly as crowded. Not even close. Inside was Really Important Man, Really Important Man's aide, and a couple of other people. It felt awkward and intrusive that we were just opening the door and walking in, but apparently, anyone who would dare attempt to walk in said room obviously had already gotten permission to enter; because as soon as Tuna opened the door, Really Important Man's aide waved us in and quickly shut the door behind us.
We stood by the door, the three of us, quietly watching the interactions in front of us. Really Important Man was not budging on the request that was currently at his desk. A man was standing there, pleading his case, and the head shaking back and forth, "No, no, no," kept coming. No matter what the man said, the answer was "No." And the emphasis of the syllable kept increasing in strength. "No. No! NO!" And eventually, "Don't you hear me? I said, 'No!' Now get out!" he seemed to be saying. And the man, slowly, defeatedly, walked out.
I can remember the feeling of that moment. Sort of like, "Oh goodness. That did not go well for him. Why should it be different for us?" My eyes scanned back and forth between Scott and Tuna, wondering what would happen next.
There was one man in front of us now, and he approached Really Important Man, handed him his paper, quickly got it signed, and exited. Just like that. And in a moment, it was our turn. We were up! Our chance, our time, to make our request to this earthly man and watch and see what the God of the universe would do.
Tuna stepped up and began to explain. Within a minute or so, Tuna was looking directly at me, waving me up to the desk, showing me where to stand, and non-verbally telling me that Rim (Really Important Man) wanted me to speak. So I shot up another prayer and stepped forward, explaining our case. We had come from America to meet our son and to take him home but we couldn't do that, obviously, without his passport. We had waited in America until the passport website from this office had made it clear that his passport was ready and would be so by the time we arrived. We had arrived, but no passport was there. We had come to Rim to request that the passport be delivered as promised.
There is much back and forth (Rim: "Come back tomorrow!" Tuna: "But, sir, we are here today, can you not help us today?"), but eventually, Really Important Man asks for the paper from the orphanage with Tom's information on it. Tuna hands it over, having had acquired it from Mr. D before walking into Room 4. Really Important Man looks at it and says to me, "I am a busy man! I will not look at this until it has been 30 days! Why do you bother me with this before it has been 30 days?!"
"It HAS been 30 days," I say. "No, it is only 20 days!" "No, it's been more than 30, actually! See, it was applied for on April 19. 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24...." And I proceed to count on my fingers until I reach 35--"It has been 35 days, sir!"
"Oh," he says. And he turns to his computer screen, pulls up Tom's file, studies it for what feel like forever, and finally says, "Okay, I will do this." He looks at his paper; he looks at the screen. He holds his pen high above the paper and lingers before signing, as if he's not sure if he really wants to do it or not. I remember praying, "Lord, you can move his hand right now. He can sign it and we get on a plane tomorrow, or he can change his mind and make us stay. Please move his hand." And with a stroke of his green pen, the order is made.
It's right about that time that I begin actually taking in my surroundings, including the huge stacks of passports and applications that are rubber-banded together and sitting in various spots all over his office. So what if he signed the paper....how in the world are they ever going to find Tom's passport if it's already printed and just sitting in that building somewhere?!
I'm back at the scene, and I jump in on Scott's case..."Sir, they've been waiting even longer! Their daughter's passport was applied for 51 days ago." Rim takes L's paper from Tuna, types in her info, and peruses it. "Okay, I will do this, too." Relief. Smiles across our faces.
But then I glance at the computer.
It's not her. That's not her. That picture isn't L!
I'm trying to say it, but for a moment or two, the reality of the situation is making my head spin. If that's not L (which it isn't), and he grants the wrong girl a passport (which it looks like he is doing), L and her parents will continue to be stuck in this cycle for who knows how long. I have to fight for L, so...
Sir, that's not her; Tuna, that's not her; Scott, the picture on the computer screen is not L!
"What?" says Rim. "What do you mean?" I gather myself and say, "I know that girl; she's another girl at the orphanage...but it's not L." And sure enough, we look closer at the paper provided by the orphanage, and the name is different. And so is the number.
"Well, I can do nothing then! What are you doing bringing me the wrong paper with the wrong number for the wrong person? Why are you wasting my time like this?!??!"
For a moment, all seems lost. But prayers are constantly being sent up, both by us and by many around the globe praying for these very moments. And God hears them and decides, in His mercy, to answer by continuing to make a way...
"I know her number," I say. (Because, you see, Really Important Man, for the last month, I've been obsessively checking your website, watching for updates on Tom's passport. And I just happened to be obsessing about L's passport, too. Hee hee.) So I quick give him the number, pointing to the screen to help him see just where he needs to put the cursor, willing him to type the number and keep the process moving forward.
He does. Up comes L's info, and then he gives the news........"Oh. This still needs a police clearance notice. I can do nothing."
What?! We've come this far! Come on, man! We don't say that, of course. Instead, Scott begins a series of questions such as, "What can we do to get the police clearance?" And I begin again to pray intensely, something that I'm sure Scott was doing while it was my turn.
And Rim turns to his screen again, hits refresh, and says, "Oh look, the police clearance is there! Very good....I will do this."
Cramazing.
He looks at me. "You, come back tomorrow, and I will have your passport. You (to Scott), come back the next day." Rim was a man who clearly enjoyed the fact that he was Really Important. We were glad to hear that we could get them both soon, but even one more day's delay would effect so much about the rest of Scott and Karen's plans. We still had to get to Delhi, get to the doctor, get to the Embassy, and get home. There was a lot to be done, and we couldn't spare another day's wait.
And Tuna knew it. So in his gentle but firm, pushing-but-not-too-much, ego-stroking-but-not-too-sweet, culturally appropriate way, Tuna began to argue/discuss with Really Important Man.
"Sir, they have come all the way from America. They have plane tickets that will have to be changed...it will cost them extra thousands of dollars. You can do this...I know that you have the power to do it."
Rim argued that he had an office full of passports to process! The Americans can wait! Tuna argued that for the Indians waiting, an extra day wouldn't matter. For the Americans waiting, an extra day would mean unforeseen cost that couldn't yet be numbered.
And he stands up. And we wonder what is happening. Is he kicking us out? He could revoke Tom's passport at this point if he wanted...maybe we should have been happy with the extra day's delay.
He makes his way past each of us and leaves the room. Scott and I look at Tuna and beg with our eyes to know what is happening. Because, of course, while some of the conversation was in English, a lot of it was in Oriya. We had no idea. But it turns out that Tuna wasn't sure either.
So we stood and waited. And prayed. Right there in that little office in Bhubaneswar, Orissa, India, we called upon the God of the universe to intervene. We asked Him to move on the heart of this man. We asked Him to give us grace to accept Rim's answer and to be respectful in our response. We asked in faith, for we knew that He could move. And we waited. It was nerve-wracking and exciting and scary and all that.
The door opened, and in walked Rim. With a single piece of paper. It was L's passport application, and he was signing, saying that he would make it happen by tomorrow. Completely and totally cramazing.
He was not going to give the passports to us directly but would send them in the normal post. He would make sure that they were mailed that evening so that they would hopefully arrive at the orphanage the next day.
Okay. That's great...we'll take it! Thank you, sir, thank you. Thank you so much. Yes, yes, get out of my hair, he seemed to say.
:)
Scott, Tuna, and I walked out quickly and with heads held high, praising our God for what we had just seen. We were so grateful for the cramazing ways that He had moved--right before our eyes. More had to be done, and our next stop was the post office...
Awesome, isn't it, that He is above and beyond time? For us, it was "immediate", but for Him, it just was. And is. His ways are unfathomable, and as I praised Him then, I praise Him now, just thinking about it.
Room 4 was cold (It felt wonderful!) and not nearly as crowded. Not even close. Inside was Really Important Man, Really Important Man's aide, and a couple of other people. It felt awkward and intrusive that we were just opening the door and walking in, but apparently, anyone who would dare attempt to walk in said room obviously had already gotten permission to enter; because as soon as Tuna opened the door, Really Important Man's aide waved us in and quickly shut the door behind us.
We stood by the door, the three of us, quietly watching the interactions in front of us. Really Important Man was not budging on the request that was currently at his desk. A man was standing there, pleading his case, and the head shaking back and forth, "No, no, no," kept coming. No matter what the man said, the answer was "No." And the emphasis of the syllable kept increasing in strength. "No. No! NO!" And eventually, "Don't you hear me? I said, 'No!' Now get out!" he seemed to be saying. And the man, slowly, defeatedly, walked out.
I can remember the feeling of that moment. Sort of like, "Oh goodness. That did not go well for him. Why should it be different for us?" My eyes scanned back and forth between Scott and Tuna, wondering what would happen next.
There was one man in front of us now, and he approached Really Important Man, handed him his paper, quickly got it signed, and exited. Just like that. And in a moment, it was our turn. We were up! Our chance, our time, to make our request to this earthly man and watch and see what the God of the universe would do.
Tuna stepped up and began to explain. Within a minute or so, Tuna was looking directly at me, waving me up to the desk, showing me where to stand, and non-verbally telling me that Rim (Really Important Man) wanted me to speak. So I shot up another prayer and stepped forward, explaining our case. We had come from America to meet our son and to take him home but we couldn't do that, obviously, without his passport. We had waited in America until the passport website from this office had made it clear that his passport was ready and would be so by the time we arrived. We had arrived, but no passport was there. We had come to Rim to request that the passport be delivered as promised.
There is much back and forth (Rim: "Come back tomorrow!" Tuna: "But, sir, we are here today, can you not help us today?"), but eventually, Really Important Man asks for the paper from the orphanage with Tom's information on it. Tuna hands it over, having had acquired it from Mr. D before walking into Room 4. Really Important Man looks at it and says to me, "I am a busy man! I will not look at this until it has been 30 days! Why do you bother me with this before it has been 30 days?!"
"It HAS been 30 days," I say. "No, it is only 20 days!" "No, it's been more than 30, actually! See, it was applied for on April 19. 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24...." And I proceed to count on my fingers until I reach 35--"It has been 35 days, sir!"
"Oh," he says. And he turns to his computer screen, pulls up Tom's file, studies it for what feel like forever, and finally says, "Okay, I will do this." He looks at his paper; he looks at the screen. He holds his pen high above the paper and lingers before signing, as if he's not sure if he really wants to do it or not. I remember praying, "Lord, you can move his hand right now. He can sign it and we get on a plane tomorrow, or he can change his mind and make us stay. Please move his hand." And with a stroke of his green pen, the order is made.
It's right about that time that I begin actually taking in my surroundings, including the huge stacks of passports and applications that are rubber-banded together and sitting in various spots all over his office. So what if he signed the paper....how in the world are they ever going to find Tom's passport if it's already printed and just sitting in that building somewhere?!
I'm back at the scene, and I jump in on Scott's case..."Sir, they've been waiting even longer! Their daughter's passport was applied for 51 days ago." Rim takes L's paper from Tuna, types in her info, and peruses it. "Okay, I will do this, too." Relief. Smiles across our faces.
But then I glance at the computer.
It's not her. That's not her. That picture isn't L!
I'm trying to say it, but for a moment or two, the reality of the situation is making my head spin. If that's not L (which it isn't), and he grants the wrong girl a passport (which it looks like he is doing), L and her parents will continue to be stuck in this cycle for who knows how long. I have to fight for L, so...
Sir, that's not her; Tuna, that's not her; Scott, the picture on the computer screen is not L!
"What?" says Rim. "What do you mean?" I gather myself and say, "I know that girl; she's another girl at the orphanage...but it's not L." And sure enough, we look closer at the paper provided by the orphanage, and the name is different. And so is the number.
"Well, I can do nothing then! What are you doing bringing me the wrong paper with the wrong number for the wrong person? Why are you wasting my time like this?!??!"
For a moment, all seems lost. But prayers are constantly being sent up, both by us and by many around the globe praying for these very moments. And God hears them and decides, in His mercy, to answer by continuing to make a way...
"I know her number," I say. (Because, you see, Really Important Man, for the last month, I've been obsessively checking your website, watching for updates on Tom's passport. And I just happened to be obsessing about L's passport, too. Hee hee.) So I quick give him the number, pointing to the screen to help him see just where he needs to put the cursor, willing him to type the number and keep the process moving forward.
He does. Up comes L's info, and then he gives the news........"Oh. This still needs a police clearance notice. I can do nothing."
What?! We've come this far! Come on, man! We don't say that, of course. Instead, Scott begins a series of questions such as, "What can we do to get the police clearance?" And I begin again to pray intensely, something that I'm sure Scott was doing while it was my turn.
And Rim turns to his screen again, hits refresh, and says, "Oh look, the police clearance is there! Very good....I will do this."
Cramazing.
He looks at me. "You, come back tomorrow, and I will have your passport. You (to Scott), come back the next day." Rim was a man who clearly enjoyed the fact that he was Really Important. We were glad to hear that we could get them both soon, but even one more day's delay would effect so much about the rest of Scott and Karen's plans. We still had to get to Delhi, get to the doctor, get to the Embassy, and get home. There was a lot to be done, and we couldn't spare another day's wait.
And Tuna knew it. So in his gentle but firm, pushing-but-not-too-much, ego-stroking-but-not-too-sweet, culturally appropriate way, Tuna began to argue/discuss with Really Important Man.
"Sir, they have come all the way from America. They have plane tickets that will have to be changed...it will cost them extra thousands of dollars. You can do this...I know that you have the power to do it."
Rim argued that he had an office full of passports to process! The Americans can wait! Tuna argued that for the Indians waiting, an extra day wouldn't matter. For the Americans waiting, an extra day would mean unforeseen cost that couldn't yet be numbered.
And he stands up. And we wonder what is happening. Is he kicking us out? He could revoke Tom's passport at this point if he wanted...maybe we should have been happy with the extra day's delay.
He makes his way past each of us and leaves the room. Scott and I look at Tuna and beg with our eyes to know what is happening. Because, of course, while some of the conversation was in English, a lot of it was in Oriya. We had no idea. But it turns out that Tuna wasn't sure either.
So we stood and waited. And prayed. Right there in that little office in Bhubaneswar, Orissa, India, we called upon the God of the universe to intervene. We asked Him to move on the heart of this man. We asked Him to give us grace to accept Rim's answer and to be respectful in our response. We asked in faith, for we knew that He could move. And we waited. It was nerve-wracking and exciting and scary and all that.
The door opened, and in walked Rim. With a single piece of paper. It was L's passport application, and he was signing, saying that he would make it happen by tomorrow. Completely and totally cramazing.
He was not going to give the passports to us directly but would send them in the normal post. He would make sure that they were mailed that evening so that they would hopefully arrive at the orphanage the next day.
Okay. That's great...we'll take it! Thank you, sir, thank you. Thank you so much. Yes, yes, get out of my hair, he seemed to say.
:)
Scott, Tuna, and I walked out quickly and with heads held high, praising our God for what we had just seen. We were so grateful for the cramazing ways that He had moved--right before our eyes. More had to be done, and our next stop was the post office...
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Scholarship!
Praise God! He got another scholarship! It's amazing to me that Rex continues to receive scholarships related to the violin. This year, he will be participating in Prelude, the next level orchestra from the last two years' Progressions. He has received a partial scholarship for his orchestra fee and another that pays for almost the entire cost of his private lessons!
(Thank you to Grandma for finishing out the rest of his orchestra fee...we are greatly blessed, and we thank the Lord for His awesome provision!)
(Thank you to Grandma for finishing out the rest of his orchestra fee...we are greatly blessed, and we thank the Lord for His awesome provision!)
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
COUSINS!
Our summer has been very full--and the fullness continues, this time in the presence of my SIL, Jill, and her family who have come all the way from England for a summer holiday. For the past couple of days, Hoffbeast's niece, P, has been at our house, and we had a great time--go, go, going practically non-stop since the moment she arrived. Tonight, we drove her back to her mum and spent some time with the family, something we will get to do numerous times in the next couple of weeks.
This post began with just this picture, taken tonight of Rex and P. An hour later, after combing through my photo files from years gone by, a more complete photo-ography of the cousins through the years...
2011
in England on our way to India
2008
P was 10 years old the last time she was in the USA. Rex is 10 years old now. Really weird to think that he will change as much in the next four years as she has in the last. Here they are with E (P's big sister), baby Beth, and Neil.
.jpg)
2006
in England just before meeting Neil in Ethiopia
Fall 2003, Grandma's surprise 80th b-day party
From left: Robert (Katie's boyfriend at the time--now husband), 15-month-old Rex, cousin Katie, P, and cousin Molly
Spring 2003
Sabbatical/Vacation in England
Where has the time gone? So thankful for photographs which help the fading memories leap back to life again. These are special cousin times...looking forward to lots more this month!
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Two Months' Break
It's been over two months since I've written about Our Cramazing May, but ever since that day, the phone has been ringing off the hook--my faithful readers want more!!
That's supposed to be funny. Actually, I just can't stop Tom's story midway. This will be the record for him of the cramazing things that our faithful God did to bring him home. I want to keep writing.
I gave myself 'til June 5 to finish the story....it didn't happen. But a couple of you plus a few other friends have told me that I should keep going, so as I can, I will.
Episode XLII is in the works...
That's supposed to be funny. Actually, I just can't stop Tom's story midway. This will be the record for him of the cramazing things that our faithful God did to bring him home. I want to keep writing.
I gave myself 'til June 5 to finish the story....it didn't happen. But a couple of you plus a few other friends have told me that I should keep going, so as I can, I will.
Episode XLII is in the works...
Friday, August 10, 2012
Next time, try Rex and Tom's knock-knocks
GUEST WRITER: REX (describing a scene recently played out one day while riding in our van...it was pretty hilarious!)
Scene I
Rex: Knock knock.
Tom: Who's there?
Rex: Ketchup.
Tom: Thank you.
Scene II
Rex: Tom, when I say ketchup, you say "ketchup who?". Okay?
Tom: Okay.
------------------------
Rex: Knock knock.
Tom: Who's there?
Rex: Ketchup.
Tom: [giggles and takes imaginary ketchup from Rex]
Scene III
Rex: Tom, JUST...SAY..."KETCHUP...WHO?"...O...KAY?!?!!
Tom: [nods head]
----------------------
Rex: Knock knock.
Tom: Ketchup who?
Scene IV
Tom: Knock knock.
Rex: Who's there?
Tom: Ketchup.
Rex: Groan. Uh...ketchup who?
Tom: Mustard.
Scene V: The joke behind the jokes
Knock knock.
Who's there?
Ketchup.
Ketchup who?
Ketchup to me and I'll tell you.
(Intro by Hoffbeauty. All the rest by Rex.) Copyright (C) 2012. All rights reserved.
(Yes, he wrote that last line, too.) :)
(Yes, he wrote that last line, too.) :)
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Ringgggggggggggg
One week ago, we were in St. Paul, Minnesota, finishing up our HLIC staff conference. At the conference, I had been challenged to believe again that Jesus truly IS the only hope for our cities. I had been motivated again by the life and words of Dr. Bright, the founder of CCC who lived a humble, imperfect, forgiven life in Christ and who believed our big God for very big things. And I had been inspired by Jahill's story, one of redemption of a young man who had come straight from the streets.
As Jahill's words rang through my ears, I prayed again for Desi, our 19-year-old "son" here. He can stay in school until he is 21, and I hope that he does. Because if he doesn't, what in the world is going to happen to him? Jahill prayed fervently for him after we talked, and my heart joined his faith-filled prayers.
I asked God to prepare me to come back, to ready me for the doorbell rings, for the kids that would sit on my porch, for the men and women who would ask us for help.
I was full of faith and ready to go! Sort of.
Tonight. Celebrating USA wins in soccer and in water polo and in the decathalon. Eating ice cream. Kicking back. It's my relax time, after all. 11 p.m. Olympics are over, Hoffbeast is asleep, our visiting friend leaves, I need to clean the kitchen and do a couple more things before heading to bed. Rex can't sleep, so I tell him again about counting sheep, give more goodnight kisses and hugs, and he's off to sleepy land. Sighs of solitude and the end of a good day.
And then...11:26 p.m.
I know that the doorbell ringing is likely Desi. And I think about not answering. But I can't not answer. I'm awake and it's raining pretty hard and the boy who calls me "Ma" is standing on my front porch.
"I was gonna see if you could take me home," he starts, just after Rex groggily walked down the stairs yet again to see what was going on.
Really? You're going to show up at 11:30 p.m. and ask me to do something for you??! Where are the boundaries?????!!!?!
So I wake up the Hub and ask if I should do it, and the rain becomes the deciding factor. And I am stern with Desi and his friend when we get in the van and let him know that if he comes over after 10 p.m. once school starts--and if the doorbell wakes the kids up--I will be very unhappy and the answer will certainly be "No!"
And we drive. And laugh. And silly argue about cell phones and egos, like children and parents do.
And he says, "Thanks" and "I love you" as he gets out of the van.
And I thank God for providing Virgil as a friend and allowing Virgil's mom to say that yes, Desi could live with them for awhile since his home life is such a chaotic situation.
And on the radio, Calling Glory is telling me to not give up and the David Crowder Band is reminding me of oh, how He loves us.
And I pull up to the house and remember my prayer, that God would ready me for the door bells.
I could have stayed home, watched late night Olympics and gone to bed a wee bit earlier. But instead, I got to show Christ's love to a young man who desperately needs to see his need and who desperately needs to know his worth--and more importantly, His worth.
Thank you, Lord, for loving people in the city way more than I do. If you are pleased to do so, use me to love people like you do, even when it's hard or uncomfortable or just plain inconvenient.
And, please, ready me for the door bells.
As Jahill's words rang through my ears, I prayed again for Desi, our 19-year-old "son" here. He can stay in school until he is 21, and I hope that he does. Because if he doesn't, what in the world is going to happen to him? Jahill prayed fervently for him after we talked, and my heart joined his faith-filled prayers.
I asked God to prepare me to come back, to ready me for the doorbell rings, for the kids that would sit on my porch, for the men and women who would ask us for help.
I was full of faith and ready to go! Sort of.
Tonight. Celebrating USA wins in soccer and in water polo and in the decathalon. Eating ice cream. Kicking back. It's my relax time, after all. 11 p.m. Olympics are over, Hoffbeast is asleep, our visiting friend leaves, I need to clean the kitchen and do a couple more things before heading to bed. Rex can't sleep, so I tell him again about counting sheep, give more goodnight kisses and hugs, and he's off to sleepy land. Sighs of solitude and the end of a good day.
And then...11:26 p.m.
I know that the doorbell ringing is likely Desi. And I think about not answering. But I can't not answer. I'm awake and it's raining pretty hard and the boy who calls me "Ma" is standing on my front porch.
"I was gonna see if you could take me home," he starts, just after Rex groggily walked down the stairs yet again to see what was going on.
Really? You're going to show up at 11:30 p.m. and ask me to do something for you??! Where are the boundaries?????!!!?!
So I wake up the Hub and ask if I should do it, and the rain becomes the deciding factor. And I am stern with Desi and his friend when we get in the van and let him know that if he comes over after 10 p.m. once school starts--and if the doorbell wakes the kids up--I will be very unhappy and the answer will certainly be "No!"
And we drive. And laugh. And silly argue about cell phones and egos, like children and parents do.
And he says, "Thanks" and "I love you" as he gets out of the van.
And I thank God for providing Virgil as a friend and allowing Virgil's mom to say that yes, Desi could live with them for awhile since his home life is such a chaotic situation.
And on the radio, Calling Glory is telling me to not give up and the David Crowder Band is reminding me of oh, how He loves us.
And I pull up to the house and remember my prayer, that God would ready me for the door bells.
I could have stayed home, watched late night Olympics and gone to bed a wee bit earlier. But instead, I got to show Christ's love to a young man who desperately needs to see his need and who desperately needs to know his worth--and more importantly, His worth.
Thank you, Lord, for loving people in the city way more than I do. If you are pleased to do so, use me to love people like you do, even when it's hard or uncomfortable or just plain inconvenient.
And, please, ready me for the door bells.
Water Fun with Kara!
She leaps...
She lobs...
She laughs...
She's..........SUPER KARA!!!
A part of our family for many years now, we love spending time with Ka, Keewa, Kada, or however else the newest kid in our family decides to say her name...
WE LOVE YOU, KARA!
Thanks for loving our kids so well and for being such a good friend...
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Home...for now
We're home. Gone for nearly two weeks. Many conversations. Lots of people. Heart involvement...and yet rest. I sit at home on my family room couch, ceiling fan cooling the air, Olympics filling the sound space. My attempt at breaking my writer's block was promptly met with, well...many conversations, lots of people, and heart involvement (and a little rest).
So.....a little late-nite stream of consciousness for you, my faithful readers (all 3 of you). :)
The Olympics are great, as usual. This year has been weird for me, though, as I am used to camping out by the tv every night for 2 weeks. This year, we were at our staff conference, and we were only able to catch a tad bit of the action here, a little bit more there. The late night replay, however, is allowing me a rare glimpse at an entire event that I had wanted to see: uneven bars final. (Too bad I already heard who didn't win....grrrr.)
Our conference was great. My favorite part was, of course, spending time with people, catching up on life and exchanging encouragements. Some of my favorite people are on staff with our ministry, and I feel blessed each time I am with them. In addition, I was able to spend time with a few of my dear friends who aren't on staff but who live in the area. Blessing upon blessing as we laughed and cried together.
I am distracted by the uneven bars.
One of the testimonies given at our conference rocked my world. A young man named Jahill had been a wreck, doing everything he could to defy a God that he believed couldn't possibly care. And then said God got ahold of Jahill's heart. And now, he is walking with the Lord and sharing the Gospel in powerful ways with other young men in the inner city who are now where he was then. Afterwards, I was able to spend time talking with him, sharing my heart about seemingly-hopeless situations here in our city. He was compassionate and he opened the Word and he prayed. I'm thankful for this man and reinvigorated with the reality that Jesus is truly the only hope for our city. But He is in us, so the possibilities are endless as His people take Him onto the streets and into the office buildings here!
The Chinese gymnasts look really young. Seriously.
That last big paragraph seems really Polliana. It's not. It's real. Jesus is real and He is here, and we, His people, get to be His ambassadors and the Gate Beautiful for the people around us. But. it. will. not. be. easy. There is a spiritual battle raging daily. The enemy wants to attack relationships--marriages, friendships, work relationships--and isolate people so that he can do what he does best...lie. He wants to pit believers both against one another and against those who don't know Him so that he can do what he does best...lie.
Enough about him. I wanna make more of Jesus. In my life, in the lives of my kids, in ministry. I must decrease; He must increase.
(I feel like I'm sounding Polliana again, but that last part is all Scripture, so I think I'll go with it. Eyes of faith, baby.)
The reality is that my heart has been pummeled by heavy things this summer. And I'm still dealing with the effects. But just as real (even more real, really) are the realities that God is on the throne, that He loves me with an everlasting love, and that He is for me. Thankful am I.
I love my children. And my husband. My kids make me laugh, and every day I have a million things to record, yet I rarely get any recorded at all....except in my heart--which, I suppose, is the best place for them to be.
Gabby Douglas is up. I'm out.
So.....a little late-nite stream of consciousness for you, my faithful readers (all 3 of you). :)
The Olympics are great, as usual. This year has been weird for me, though, as I am used to camping out by the tv every night for 2 weeks. This year, we were at our staff conference, and we were only able to catch a tad bit of the action here, a little bit more there. The late night replay, however, is allowing me a rare glimpse at an entire event that I had wanted to see: uneven bars final. (Too bad I already heard who didn't win....grrrr.)
Our conference was great. My favorite part was, of course, spending time with people, catching up on life and exchanging encouragements. Some of my favorite people are on staff with our ministry, and I feel blessed each time I am with them. In addition, I was able to spend time with a few of my dear friends who aren't on staff but who live in the area. Blessing upon blessing as we laughed and cried together.
I am distracted by the uneven bars.
One of the testimonies given at our conference rocked my world. A young man named Jahill had been a wreck, doing everything he could to defy a God that he believed couldn't possibly care. And then said God got ahold of Jahill's heart. And now, he is walking with the Lord and sharing the Gospel in powerful ways with other young men in the inner city who are now where he was then. Afterwards, I was able to spend time talking with him, sharing my heart about seemingly-hopeless situations here in our city. He was compassionate and he opened the Word and he prayed. I'm thankful for this man and reinvigorated with the reality that Jesus is truly the only hope for our city. But He is in us, so the possibilities are endless as His people take Him onto the streets and into the office buildings here!
The Chinese gymnasts look really young. Seriously.
That last big paragraph seems really Polliana. It's not. It's real. Jesus is real and He is here, and we, His people, get to be His ambassadors and the Gate Beautiful for the people around us. But. it. will. not. be. easy. There is a spiritual battle raging daily. The enemy wants to attack relationships--marriages, friendships, work relationships--and isolate people so that he can do what he does best...lie. He wants to pit believers both against one another and against those who don't know Him so that he can do what he does best...lie.
Enough about him. I wanna make more of Jesus. In my life, in the lives of my kids, in ministry. I must decrease; He must increase.
(I feel like I'm sounding Polliana again, but that last part is all Scripture, so I think I'll go with it. Eyes of faith, baby.)
The reality is that my heart has been pummeled by heavy things this summer. And I'm still dealing with the effects. But just as real (even more real, really) are the realities that God is on the throne, that He loves me with an everlasting love, and that He is for me. Thankful am I.
I love my children. And my husband. My kids make me laugh, and every day I have a million things to record, yet I rarely get any recorded at all....except in my heart--which, I suppose, is the best place for them to be.
Gabby Douglas is up. I'm out.