Isaiah 40:11 He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads the nursing ewes.
In the summer of 1986 I received a call from the doctors' office. "Congratulations, Mrs. Collins!" "Thank you! For what?" "Um, your test, your pregnancy test? It came back positive." I had the test done as a precaution before taking medicine that would be a problem if I were pregnant. But it was purely precautionary on my part. I had no idea that I was nor any intention of being so. I had a very strong headed five year old, a very strong willed one year old, and a very clingy three year old. I felt like I was drowning as a parent, unable to do anything well for my girls; and now the dr.s' office was telling me I was going to have another one? I hung up the phone, sat on edge of the bed, and wept. I prayed, "God do you know how poorly I am doing this job already?" I was tired and worried and thought surely there had been a mistake. But there was no mistake and in March of 1987 our son Matthew as born. Matthew means gift of Jehovah, because he truly was just that. Matt was easy going from day one, loving to be entertained by his sisters. He rarely fussed too loudly throughout his childhood. He was and is sweet and affectionate. Funny how God knows best. My dear friend, Carol Jo, offered me this scripture from Isaiah when I was struggling through those first days of pregnancy and I clung to the words like breath. He would gently lead me, and more, He would carry my babies close to His heart. I could depend on Him for support, comfort, even to step in and carry my babies when I could not. What more could I ask?
Monday, November 5, 2012
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
engraved
Isaiah 49:16 See I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me.
For too many reasons to list here I came into adulthood with a deep sense of worthlessness and fear that others would see just how useless and terrible I really was if they ever really knew me. But through patient, tender love, the Lord placed people in my life who spoke truth about the value He places on me. Through the preached Word on Sundays, ladies Bible studies through the weeks, Home Groups, and friendships, as well as things my husband shared, my children would say, my mother-in-law and my own parents I heard the Word confirmed back to me. One day reading through the book of Isaiah, I read this passage and I realized, "Wait, Jesus really did this in the flesh!" He carved me into his palms. The Hebrew word for palms incorporates the full hand and wrist area where the nails pierced Him. I felt those words fly off the page and take wings in my heart. I finally got it. In eternity I will find a glorified perfect body, whole and complete. But Jesus will carry the marks of His Love for me FOREVER. My walls are EVER before him. He loves that much. Value, yes I have value. And not because I earned it or didn't do or did do anything. My value rests in the fact that He loves me. You, too, by the way.
For too many reasons to list here I came into adulthood with a deep sense of worthlessness and fear that others would see just how useless and terrible I really was if they ever really knew me. But through patient, tender love, the Lord placed people in my life who spoke truth about the value He places on me. Through the preached Word on Sundays, ladies Bible studies through the weeks, Home Groups, and friendships, as well as things my husband shared, my children would say, my mother-in-law and my own parents I heard the Word confirmed back to me. One day reading through the book of Isaiah, I read this passage and I realized, "Wait, Jesus really did this in the flesh!" He carved me into his palms. The Hebrew word for palms incorporates the full hand and wrist area where the nails pierced Him. I felt those words fly off the page and take wings in my heart. I finally got it. In eternity I will find a glorified perfect body, whole and complete. But Jesus will carry the marks of His Love for me FOREVER. My walls are EVER before him. He loves that much. Value, yes I have value. And not because I earned it or didn't do or did do anything. My value rests in the fact that He loves me. You, too, by the way.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Romans 8:15 For you have not received a spirit of slavery leading to fear again, but you have received a spirit of adoption as sons by which we cry out, “Abba! (NASB)
Ephesians 1:5 he predestined us for adoption as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will, (ESV)
As believers in Christ we know that we are children of God. We know that we are born again.
Christ's death, his payment for our sin, the propitiation required, allows us the opportunity to receive the "spirit of adoption as sons". But what does that mean? What does it mean to be adopted?
Adoption is a legal term. It is the process by which a child born of one set of parents becomes the child of another set or individual parent by means of the court system, having a judge rule the adoption complete and lawful. The judge signs the adoption certificate or decree and the new parents file for a new birth certificate that has the child's new name and the new parents are listed and the child is theirs in every way. In the eyes of the law this child is now completely and utterly their child and the law will not differentiate between them and a biological child of the same parents. The adopted child is now an heir among the children.
I know this because I have adopted children. The process of adoption is a birthing process even as the biological process of birth. There are distinct markers of "pregnancy", "labor", and "birth". I can compare this relatively well as I also have biological children. But I don't wish to share the details of our adoptions here and now. What I want to look at is the spiritual correlation.
My adopted children were born to other women. My daughter belonged to that birth family until she was twelve. My son was released for adoption at three days old by his biological mother. They were both born to be my children though. Born of another's body, but chosen by the Father to be my child. My son came young and became a part of this family in a way that he knew no other family, no other way. This is where he belonged. My daughter came with memories of another time, other people, another life. But she will quickly tell you that we are her family, I am her mother, and my husband is her "Daddy". How can that be? Just because some judge signed a paper?
No, but that marked a permanency that allowed the feelings of belonging and of safety to grow. It was the fertile soil for those other things to be. Without the legal process that said she was ours she would have continued to waver in a sense that "they" could take her away again, for she remembers being taken away. She would have continued to fear that the birth family could come steal her away; something she was very much afraid of for several months, but months not years. She no longer fears that. The legal procedure of adoption allowed our daughter and her new family to move toward the truth that she is ours, born to be ours, designed to be a child of God under our care.
In much the same way, our adoption as "sons" allows us to grow into our understanding of what it means to be God's child. It is the legal decree that declares to all who would hear that we are his. We were born of another (in sin) but through the death of Christ our redemption was purchased, the requirements of God's law were fulfilled and thereby we have a legal claim to his family simply by the acceptance of Christ's work, of his being who he is. When one professes Christ as their Savior the adoption decree is signed and that one has the all the legal rights of an heir. The birth certificate is changed so that God is now listed as our parent. In that moment the new believer has received "the spirit of adoption" and is completely and in every way a member of God's family.
Some of us come as little children and really know no other way. Our memories are wrapped up in the family of God, surrounded by God's grace and love. Some of us come later, with memories of old ways, an old life, and other relationships. We may face fears that arise from things in the past. But those memories and fears, those old ways, those old relationships do not change the fact that the adoption decree was signed and a new birth took place and we were born to be a child of this Father.
Ephesians 1:5 he predestined us for adoption as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will, (ESV)
As believers in Christ we know that we are children of God. We know that we are born again.
Christ's death, his payment for our sin, the propitiation required, allows us the opportunity to receive the "spirit of adoption as sons". But what does that mean? What does it mean to be adopted?
Adoption is a legal term. It is the process by which a child born of one set of parents becomes the child of another set or individual parent by means of the court system, having a judge rule the adoption complete and lawful. The judge signs the adoption certificate or decree and the new parents file for a new birth certificate that has the child's new name and the new parents are listed and the child is theirs in every way. In the eyes of the law this child is now completely and utterly their child and the law will not differentiate between them and a biological child of the same parents. The adopted child is now an heir among the children.
I know this because I have adopted children. The process of adoption is a birthing process even as the biological process of birth. There are distinct markers of "pregnancy", "labor", and "birth". I can compare this relatively well as I also have biological children. But I don't wish to share the details of our adoptions here and now. What I want to look at is the spiritual correlation.
My adopted children were born to other women. My daughter belonged to that birth family until she was twelve. My son was released for adoption at three days old by his biological mother. They were both born to be my children though. Born of another's body, but chosen by the Father to be my child. My son came young and became a part of this family in a way that he knew no other family, no other way. This is where he belonged. My daughter came with memories of another time, other people, another life. But she will quickly tell you that we are her family, I am her mother, and my husband is her "Daddy". How can that be? Just because some judge signed a paper?
No, but that marked a permanency that allowed the feelings of belonging and of safety to grow. It was the fertile soil for those other things to be. Without the legal process that said she was ours she would have continued to waver in a sense that "they" could take her away again, for she remembers being taken away. She would have continued to fear that the birth family could come steal her away; something she was very much afraid of for several months, but months not years. She no longer fears that. The legal procedure of adoption allowed our daughter and her new family to move toward the truth that she is ours, born to be ours, designed to be a child of God under our care.
In much the same way, our adoption as "sons" allows us to grow into our understanding of what it means to be God's child. It is the legal decree that declares to all who would hear that we are his. We were born of another (in sin) but through the death of Christ our redemption was purchased, the requirements of God's law were fulfilled and thereby we have a legal claim to his family simply by the acceptance of Christ's work, of his being who he is. When one professes Christ as their Savior the adoption decree is signed and that one has the all the legal rights of an heir. The birth certificate is changed so that God is now listed as our parent. In that moment the new believer has received "the spirit of adoption" and is completely and in every way a member of God's family.
Some of us come as little children and really know no other way. Our memories are wrapped up in the family of God, surrounded by God's grace and love. Some of us come later, with memories of old ways, an old life, and other relationships. We may face fears that arise from things in the past. But those memories and fears, those old ways, those old relationships do not change the fact that the adoption decree was signed and a new birth took place and we were born to be a child of this Father.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Placement Day
Today is "Placement Day" for our family. Fifteen years ago today we sat in the small "living room" of the adoption agency together with our children, my parents, our newest son and his foster mom and her little girl. I don't remember if the day was sunny or it rained. There could have been cold cloudy breezes blowing but I have no recollection of the weather outside. It rained through sunshine inside though. Tears were flowing freely: tears of joy, tears of loss, but not tears of fear, and not tears of an infant. The tears came from me, and a couple of my daughters. The tears flowed from Dawn, the foster mom, who was battling with conflicting emotions both joy and grief. The tears threatened my mom's cheeks as she wiped and sniffled them away.
This little boy had been Dawn's for six month. She had loved him freely, changed his diaper, rocked his fears away, sang him into dreamland, and her husband and she gave themselves to him in a selfless act of devotion to their Savior. Dawn had become his "Mommy" and earned his love and devotion. They had prayed for us and wondered what took so long to find a family for him. They had waited for this moment and knew it would come. But now that she faced it her world was shaking hard. Still she dressed him that morning for the last time and brought him to us, knowing this was what the plan was from day one. Her heart ached with the loss, but her spirit smiled through the tears - sunshine through the rain.
Genna cried too. She was the cute little blond two year old with a smile that would melt the meanest heart. She loved our son like her own. He was her own. He was her first brother. There would be others who are brothers who belonged to her. But in that moment he was her brother and she cried for the now that she didn't truly understand. Mention Genna's name and he jumped with joy. He knew she loved him.
My mom and dad came. My dad has always had such an open heart. He had often included the lonely and neglected. He gave with a generous heart to those around him. That day he spoke words of blessing, words of inclusion, words that welcomed the baby physically and spiritually into our fold. He slid easily into the moment of newness with our son. My mom was the more cautious one. She considered the practical and carried concern for what could harm. She was never the one to weep openly, and quietly dabbed wet eyes. When he was placed in her arms her heart reached out and wrapped her around this tender little boy. She had worried for me. She had worried that she would not be able to see him as her own grandchild, but in that moment she received him just as she had my first four children. He reached his tiny hand to her and grasped her heart within it.
My children each took turns playing with him, holding him, the new toy. A baby for the oldest two girls to enjoy. A mixture of love and competition for my third daughter who had been the "baby" in our home. Our son embraced this newest son with a delight only an only son could grasp. He was not alone now. He had a brother. A dream come true for him. Second mommies who would care for him and love him without a second thought, a sister who would be a sister in every way, teasing and tempting and loving him intensely, and a brother who would continue to be devoted to him throughout life, this is what waited for Tim on the other side of the ceremony in that little living room in 1997.
My husband took him in his arm and read passages from 1 Timothy, a favorite of his, and the reason we decided to keep the name he had been given at birth - Timothy. A child that was not part of my husband's plan at first, but that day in that room there was no doubt in Richard's heart that this child had been born to be his son. Adopted by this father even as Rich had been adopted by his father, and we had been adopted by the Father. Not something of shame as the generations before had labeled adoption. No, this was a reason to rejoice! This was a celebration for we had a new son! Yes, there was sadness in the path that brought him to us, but anything of value has been refined in the fire of life. We were simply thankful that God allowed him to be ours on this day.
I wept openly with delight, with the deepest kind of joy. The kind of joy that awakens and pushes its way forward and out into the light when a dream is realized. I had timidly offered this dream to my husband almost seven years before this day. I had spent days weeping at what I thought was the wrong dream as we were rejected over and over for different children waiting for adoption. I had worked through depression that tried to drown me in a sense of worthlessness and unfitness for the task. And this day, May 9, 1997 was my day of victory. The completion of the dream bounced on my lap with overwhelming delight at the attention being offered to him.
Timmy found the day a party. He laughed and gurgled with joy. He delighted everyone with his cute little face and noises. There were days ahead that brought more struggle as we learned how to be a family together and settled into the routine of life that included this little boy. But he knew today, this day, was his and he basked in the warmth of the moment.
I love you, Tim. You are my dream come true and the answer to my prayers. I am thankful every day that I am your Mom.
This little boy had been Dawn's for six month. She had loved him freely, changed his diaper, rocked his fears away, sang him into dreamland, and her husband and she gave themselves to him in a selfless act of devotion to their Savior. Dawn had become his "Mommy" and earned his love and devotion. They had prayed for us and wondered what took so long to find a family for him. They had waited for this moment and knew it would come. But now that she faced it her world was shaking hard. Still she dressed him that morning for the last time and brought him to us, knowing this was what the plan was from day one. Her heart ached with the loss, but her spirit smiled through the tears - sunshine through the rain.
Genna cried too. She was the cute little blond two year old with a smile that would melt the meanest heart. She loved our son like her own. He was her own. He was her first brother. There would be others who are brothers who belonged to her. But in that moment he was her brother and she cried for the now that she didn't truly understand. Mention Genna's name and he jumped with joy. He knew she loved him.
My mom and dad came. My dad has always had such an open heart. He had often included the lonely and neglected. He gave with a generous heart to those around him. That day he spoke words of blessing, words of inclusion, words that welcomed the baby physically and spiritually into our fold. He slid easily into the moment of newness with our son. My mom was the more cautious one. She considered the practical and carried concern for what could harm. She was never the one to weep openly, and quietly dabbed wet eyes. When he was placed in her arms her heart reached out and wrapped her around this tender little boy. She had worried for me. She had worried that she would not be able to see him as her own grandchild, but in that moment she received him just as she had my first four children. He reached his tiny hand to her and grasped her heart within it.
My children each took turns playing with him, holding him, the new toy. A baby for the oldest two girls to enjoy. A mixture of love and competition for my third daughter who had been the "baby" in our home. Our son embraced this newest son with a delight only an only son could grasp. He was not alone now. He had a brother. A dream come true for him. Second mommies who would care for him and love him without a second thought, a sister who would be a sister in every way, teasing and tempting and loving him intensely, and a brother who would continue to be devoted to him throughout life, this is what waited for Tim on the other side of the ceremony in that little living room in 1997.
My husband took him in his arm and read passages from 1 Timothy, a favorite of his, and the reason we decided to keep the name he had been given at birth - Timothy. A child that was not part of my husband's plan at first, but that day in that room there was no doubt in Richard's heart that this child had been born to be his son. Adopted by this father even as Rich had been adopted by his father, and we had been adopted by the Father. Not something of shame as the generations before had labeled adoption. No, this was a reason to rejoice! This was a celebration for we had a new son! Yes, there was sadness in the path that brought him to us, but anything of value has been refined in the fire of life. We were simply thankful that God allowed him to be ours on this day.
I wept openly with delight, with the deepest kind of joy. The kind of joy that awakens and pushes its way forward and out into the light when a dream is realized. I had timidly offered this dream to my husband almost seven years before this day. I had spent days weeping at what I thought was the wrong dream as we were rejected over and over for different children waiting for adoption. I had worked through depression that tried to drown me in a sense of worthlessness and unfitness for the task. And this day, May 9, 1997 was my day of victory. The completion of the dream bounced on my lap with overwhelming delight at the attention being offered to him.
Timmy found the day a party. He laughed and gurgled with joy. He delighted everyone with his cute little face and noises. There were days ahead that brought more struggle as we learned how to be a family together and settled into the routine of life that included this little boy. But he knew today, this day, was his and he basked in the warmth of the moment.
I love you, Tim. You are my dream come true and the answer to my prayers. I am thankful every day that I am your Mom.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Forgive Spontaneously
Forgive spontaneously. I listened as the speaker spoke about her life, how her expectations and dreams had come crashing down around her and she could not stop or control the situation. I heard her talk about how difficult it was as she realized the truth of her faith, that forgiveness was not an option, it was an integral part of her walk with the Lord and a mandatory item on the list of traits and actions of a Christian. My conscious was prick.
A few minutes before the group of women at this retreat gathered together and lifted our voices in songs of worship for our Savior. In the middle of one song I sang with abandoned delight as I turned my heart toward him and declared "I want to love like you love!" Quietly in the depths of my spirit I heard a voice I know well. "Even him?" "Him" would be my son-in-law who several months ago decided that he was not a believer and he did not want to be married to my daughter anymore. He broke his vow to her, his promise to us, and abandoned his family. I told him when this first happened that I loved him and he would always be my "son". He replied that we would see down the road how that held up. He was right.
As the months have passed and I have watched my daughter respond with godly wisdom and prayfully covered replies to his often purposefully caustic and hurtful remarks I have begun to loathe him. I don't dislike people easily, but he has earned my anger. Watching my daughter hurt over something she did not deserve and hearing my little grandchildren wonder if their daddy still loves them has covered my heart with a steel plate of anger. Funny thing is I never saw it happening. I didn't feel the welding of the metal as it was being wrapped around my heart. I didn't hear the clank of the metal as it was set piece by piece. I don't usually struggle with anger and this felt "righteous" as it was laid in place.
Maybe it was. But what does it benefit the kingdom of God? How does it achieve any glory for the Lord? What has it done to me or for my daughter? Not one good thing. My son-in-law has surely felt my anger; although I haven't spoken it to him directly. He knows what we believe about loving our enemies. I'm sure I haven't done a good job of that. And what about my daughter? She has responded in ways that try as he may, my s.i.l. cannot say that she is anything but loving. She has been the picture of a Christian response to him. Me, not so much. I have been more of a challenge to her faith than an asset. And what of the kingdom and the glory? yeah. not much happening there in this on my part.
So when the Lord's tender voice gently asked me, "even him?" I wanted to tell him "not a chance", but then I don't really want to love like Jesus, do I? I cried, tears falling from my eyes as I stood before my Savior naked once again. My shame and my false intentions covering the light of his love within me. And then this word . . . forgive spontaneously. Isn't that what Christ has given me? Instantly, waiting for my asking, over and over as I come to him with each new failure and even more, he has taken those very things that were my shame and turned them into his glory so often. So often those things have become my badge of honor: "Look what Jesus did for me!"
So I am displeased with the way her husband is treating my daughter and I am still angry that my four year old granddaughter tells me "Grammy, do you know my heart hurts?" Yet, still I remember the man that fell in love with my girl and I know that my God is bigger than this man's failures and choices. And God is able to deliver my daughter into a better tomorrow, restore this man's faith at some point, heal the heart of my wounded grandjoys, and forgive me my moment of angry indulgence. I forgive you, Chris, even without your asking, for Christ's sake and because I truly do want to love you as Christ loves you.
A few minutes before the group of women at this retreat gathered together and lifted our voices in songs of worship for our Savior. In the middle of one song I sang with abandoned delight as I turned my heart toward him and declared "I want to love like you love!" Quietly in the depths of my spirit I heard a voice I know well. "Even him?" "Him" would be my son-in-law who several months ago decided that he was not a believer and he did not want to be married to my daughter anymore. He broke his vow to her, his promise to us, and abandoned his family. I told him when this first happened that I loved him and he would always be my "son". He replied that we would see down the road how that held up. He was right.
As the months have passed and I have watched my daughter respond with godly wisdom and prayfully covered replies to his often purposefully caustic and hurtful remarks I have begun to loathe him. I don't dislike people easily, but he has earned my anger. Watching my daughter hurt over something she did not deserve and hearing my little grandchildren wonder if their daddy still loves them has covered my heart with a steel plate of anger. Funny thing is I never saw it happening. I didn't feel the welding of the metal as it was being wrapped around my heart. I didn't hear the clank of the metal as it was set piece by piece. I don't usually struggle with anger and this felt "righteous" as it was laid in place.
Maybe it was. But what does it benefit the kingdom of God? How does it achieve any glory for the Lord? What has it done to me or for my daughter? Not one good thing. My son-in-law has surely felt my anger; although I haven't spoken it to him directly. He knows what we believe about loving our enemies. I'm sure I haven't done a good job of that. And what about my daughter? She has responded in ways that try as he may, my s.i.l. cannot say that she is anything but loving. She has been the picture of a Christian response to him. Me, not so much. I have been more of a challenge to her faith than an asset. And what of the kingdom and the glory? yeah. not much happening there in this on my part.
So when the Lord's tender voice gently asked me, "even him?" I wanted to tell him "not a chance", but then I don't really want to love like Jesus, do I? I cried, tears falling from my eyes as I stood before my Savior naked once again. My shame and my false intentions covering the light of his love within me. And then this word . . . forgive spontaneously. Isn't that what Christ has given me? Instantly, waiting for my asking, over and over as I come to him with each new failure and even more, he has taken those very things that were my shame and turned them into his glory so often. So often those things have become my badge of honor: "Look what Jesus did for me!"
So I am displeased with the way her husband is treating my daughter and I am still angry that my four year old granddaughter tells me "Grammy, do you know my heart hurts?" Yet, still I remember the man that fell in love with my girl and I know that my God is bigger than this man's failures and choices. And God is able to deliver my daughter into a better tomorrow, restore this man's faith at some point, heal the heart of my wounded grandjoys, and forgive me my moment of angry indulgence. I forgive you, Chris, even without your asking, for Christ's sake and because I truly do want to love you as Christ loves you.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Ishimwe. We have been involved with Compassion International since about 1990. Our first sponsor child was in Ecuador and his name was Walter. During the several years we sponsored him we discovered that his desire was to become an auto mechanic which is what my husband does. We began to pray that he would have the opportunity for the training necessary and that a door would be open for him to do this with his life. We learned after a few years that every letter we had written him, every strip of stickers we had sent, every post card, every picture were all safely kept in a photo album under his bed. They were his "treasures". We learned so much from our relationship with Walter and although he is a grown man living somewhere in his country fixing cars, we have no contact now. But I still think of Walter and pray for him from time to time. Through the years we have sponsored several other children. I believe this new one makes 12. I opened up the page and stared at the faces of those sweet children so in need of the most basic things like clean water, education, and Jesus. "How can I pick, Father?" I prayed. That is always the hardest part. How do you choose? But as I looked through the pictures a face seemed to be familiar and I knew she was the one. So I signed up for this girl. Ishimwe is her name. I only know her birthday, name, age and a little about her country and her home life. I will learn more as the years go by and I hear from her and send her our love. I cannot wait to write her a letter and send her some stickers and book marks and remind her that God created her with a purpose and a plan for her life for good.
If you are not involved with a sponsorship group there are a few really good ones out there. Compassion is at the top of the list in my opinion. Check them out. The sacrifice you make to sponsor one of these children is worth the effort. I promise you. If you take the time to write you will find that you get more out of this than any money you put into it. I encourage you to consider it, check out their website compassion.com and start sponsoring a child today.
Have you ever begun a project thinking you were doing one thing and ended up doing something completely different? I am in the middle of that kind of experience right now. I started working on a paper this week. The paper is for Applied Psychology and the topic is Positive Philosophy. I knew this would be a fun and interesting paper before I began. I also knew I would run into some deep challenges as I looked into how a counselor works with people whose lives are affected by traumatic events in their past and how or if the philosophy mentioned can be employed to help bring about healing, resolution, or relief. All of this is proving true already. I am finding the books fascinating and the topic of positive philosophy really uplifting for myself.
However, because my priority list is overloaded always and I struggle with what to do right now in this minute, I am always wondering what about that over there; when do I get to it? I have been feeling this way about some of the writing projects I am working on. One project is about our adoption experience. The project tells how we came to that decision, the process of adoption for us, how it affected our four children at that time, and finding and adjusting to the new child. There is so much more to our story though. We adopted again. And there was so much stemming from the point of adoption, healing processes for both children, and things that affected who we as a family and individuals became because of the experience of adoption. I initially gave the journal I am using as my jumping spot to several people connected to our adoption journey as a thank you gift. I gave it to a few friends who adopted also. I was challenged to turn into something more and I am doing that. But writing it has meant finding the line between privacy and my children's right to their own life and the information that may help someone or bless someone or encourage someone who is adopting or facing some kind difficult issue connected to the adoption or process. I recently picked up the story and began changing it to a fictional account. Not sure how that feels yet. I will probably keep it true. But mostly I felt like I don't have the time to pour the kind of emotions and thought into the project right now. So I sat it aside. But I kept thinking about it and wondering how to balance the things I need to include with my children. I certainly would not include anything they are not ready for me to say. But then, that could be a good portion of the book and is there a way of communicating it without betraying them?
So I have been bouncing it around and my uncle asks me how that story is going. He has read it for me and encouraged me to get it published. I told him my concerns in detail and he gave me some valid advice. Let it sit for a time. Children grow up and their needs and perspectives change as they do. Good advice. I can see that even through my own adult life. Let it sit and the time will come when it is ready, time is full, and the need in others will still be there. So I am sitting on it and moving on. Is there something you can set aside until the time is better? Something that you don't want to let go of but could put on a shelf for a season in order to do other things or wait for a better time? Trust God to bring it back around when the time is better and he will or he will simply remove it and give you the peace to let it go.
However, because my priority list is overloaded always and I struggle with what to do right now in this minute, I am always wondering what about that over there; when do I get to it? I have been feeling this way about some of the writing projects I am working on. One project is about our adoption experience. The project tells how we came to that decision, the process of adoption for us, how it affected our four children at that time, and finding and adjusting to the new child. There is so much more to our story though. We adopted again. And there was so much stemming from the point of adoption, healing processes for both children, and things that affected who we as a family and individuals became because of the experience of adoption. I initially gave the journal I am using as my jumping spot to several people connected to our adoption journey as a thank you gift. I gave it to a few friends who adopted also. I was challenged to turn into something more and I am doing that. But writing it has meant finding the line between privacy and my children's right to their own life and the information that may help someone or bless someone or encourage someone who is adopting or facing some kind difficult issue connected to the adoption or process. I recently picked up the story and began changing it to a fictional account. Not sure how that feels yet. I will probably keep it true. But mostly I felt like I don't have the time to pour the kind of emotions and thought into the project right now. So I sat it aside. But I kept thinking about it and wondering how to balance the things I need to include with my children. I certainly would not include anything they are not ready for me to say. But then, that could be a good portion of the book and is there a way of communicating it without betraying them?
So I have been bouncing it around and my uncle asks me how that story is going. He has read it for me and encouraged me to get it published. I told him my concerns in detail and he gave me some valid advice. Let it sit for a time. Children grow up and their needs and perspectives change as they do. Good advice. I can see that even through my own adult life. Let it sit and the time will come when it is ready, time is full, and the need in others will still be there. So I am sitting on it and moving on. Is there something you can set aside until the time is better? Something that you don't want to let go of but could put on a shelf for a season in order to do other things or wait for a better time? Trust God to bring it back around when the time is better and he will or he will simply remove it and give you the peace to let it go.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
foxes and the vines
Eleven years ago this month we moved into our home. One of my favorite things about the house when we first came was the amazing, beautiful gardens the previous owner had left me. She had prepared such wonder and left the fruit of her efforts for me to enjoy. I love to play in the dirt. I don't mind getting my hands messy and every winter you will find rows of little seedlings sprouting in my windows with a pure hope that they will be strong and do well under my care. But I have no green thumb. Sometimes, I think just to bless me, the Lord gives me a good garden filled with beautiful extra things I have planted. Much of what's there is simply the continued blessings from Susan's work long before I came into the garden and left my own foot prints in the dirt though.
About year three years in I started to realize that a particular vine in the cutting garden was getting out of hand. The little purple flowers that covered it in late spring were really lovely. But it was choking the lilac, the hydrangea, and the forsythia bushes and covering over all the other plants on the ground. It was obviously a bully. So diligently I pulled and dug and yanked until it was minimal. The following year I worked even harder to try to eliminate it and the third year I seemed to have finally erased the monster from my garden. No sign of it for several years now. Until last week.
On a warm, February day I trotted out to the cutting garden to clean up some of what I had left undone last fall and was amazed to find several very long strands of the variegated vines twisting their way around the poles, pillar, and bushes. I pulled one out and looked at it closely to be sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. There it was five years later creeping its way back into my life. I pulled a few of the vines out but didn't finish the job. I know I need to completely clean it off the bushes and other items or it will become a bully once again. The thing is they are pretty vines with white and green leaves and small purple flowers when in bloom. They are a beautiful ground cover. I see it sold in garden centers all the time and I want to warn people, "It will eat up your garden unless you like to fight your plants!"
The thing is I don't think the plant is a wicked or horrible thing. It's just something that needs to be tended and managed well and if the gardener hasn't time to do those things this particular plant should not be included in the garden scheme.
As I was pulling at the few vines there and deciding whether I would wrestle with them and have a nice ground cover this year or do my best to eradicate the little bullies I thought about Song of Solomon 2:15 which says, "Catch the foxes for us, the little foxes that are ruining the vineyards, while our vineyards are in bloom." Foxes (in my opinion) are beautiful creatures, smart and crafty. But they will mess up the grapes growing. And just like my vines popped up unexpectedly foxes will show up in the night when you are not there to guard the fruit.
Foxes - vines, both offered me a picture for those little things that are lovely or enjoyable and even perhaps serve a purpose (like ground covering) but need management and sometimes an outright fight in my daily life.
Those things that add something to the garden of my day but quickly take over my time and energy are my "foxes" or "vines". Phone calls used to be my time management nightmare. I could spend hours on the phone praying with others, socializing, working the schedule to arrange get-togethers, and a million other reasons to be tied to that corded buddy that only allowed me so far and no more. Now, I don't spend so much time on the phone as I do face book, pinterest, and email. Some of it is just waste like the time spent on the games, relaxing but not much good otherwise. Some of it really serves a purpose. Facebook and email allow me contact with friends and family that I might otherwise never have. Pinterest, my newest time gobbler, has inspired me and stirred my creativity in ways that already have benefited my family and me. However, they can be little foxes coming in and nipping away at the fruit of my time and leaving me with no time (wasted fruit). Or like the vine, choking the life out of other areas of life, such as finances (something has to pay for the creativity).
While each of those particular activities have a purpose and are useful for me, they are also potentially threatening to my day, my time, and to what God has called me to do. If I spend the day or the whole morning whittling away on one of these instead of caring for the family He has given me; or if I am pinning away on Pinterest instead of putting some of that new found creativity to use for my friends and family; if I waste the time reading all 300 or so friends statuses or playing games with my buddies instead of working on the writing that needs my attention I have allowed the pretty little vines to climb all over my day and they will begin to squeeze out those other and more important areas of life.
Perhaps you are not tempted by the things I mentioned. That's ok and good for you! I bet, though, you have something that pulls at your attention and threatens to run your day for you. Maybe it's television or talk radio, or noodling around with an instrument, or reading when you should be doing, or doing when you should be reading. Whatever it is catch the foxes. Scripture doesn't say kill the foxes, but catch the foxes, capture them and get them out of the vineyard where they don't belong. Manage your garden. What are your foxes? Do you have vines trying to bully their way into your day?
About year three years in I started to realize that a particular vine in the cutting garden was getting out of hand. The little purple flowers that covered it in late spring were really lovely. But it was choking the lilac, the hydrangea, and the forsythia bushes and covering over all the other plants on the ground. It was obviously a bully. So diligently I pulled and dug and yanked until it was minimal. The following year I worked even harder to try to eliminate it and the third year I seemed to have finally erased the monster from my garden. No sign of it for several years now. Until last week.
On a warm, February day I trotted out to the cutting garden to clean up some of what I had left undone last fall and was amazed to find several very long strands of the variegated vines twisting their way around the poles, pillar, and bushes. I pulled one out and looked at it closely to be sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. There it was five years later creeping its way back into my life. I pulled a few of the vines out but didn't finish the job. I know I need to completely clean it off the bushes and other items or it will become a bully once again. The thing is they are pretty vines with white and green leaves and small purple flowers when in bloom. They are a beautiful ground cover. I see it sold in garden centers all the time and I want to warn people, "It will eat up your garden unless you like to fight your plants!"
The thing is I don't think the plant is a wicked or horrible thing. It's just something that needs to be tended and managed well and if the gardener hasn't time to do those things this particular plant should not be included in the garden scheme.
As I was pulling at the few vines there and deciding whether I would wrestle with them and have a nice ground cover this year or do my best to eradicate the little bullies I thought about Song of Solomon 2:15 which says, "Catch the foxes for us, the little foxes that are ruining the vineyards, while our vineyards are in bloom." Foxes (in my opinion) are beautiful creatures, smart and crafty. But they will mess up the grapes growing. And just like my vines popped up unexpectedly foxes will show up in the night when you are not there to guard the fruit.
Foxes - vines, both offered me a picture for those little things that are lovely or enjoyable and even perhaps serve a purpose (like ground covering) but need management and sometimes an outright fight in my daily life.
Those things that add something to the garden of my day but quickly take over my time and energy are my "foxes" or "vines". Phone calls used to be my time management nightmare. I could spend hours on the phone praying with others, socializing, working the schedule to arrange get-togethers, and a million other reasons to be tied to that corded buddy that only allowed me so far and no more. Now, I don't spend so much time on the phone as I do face book, pinterest, and email. Some of it is just waste like the time spent on the games, relaxing but not much good otherwise. Some of it really serves a purpose. Facebook and email allow me contact with friends and family that I might otherwise never have. Pinterest, my newest time gobbler, has inspired me and stirred my creativity in ways that already have benefited my family and me. However, they can be little foxes coming in and nipping away at the fruit of my time and leaving me with no time (wasted fruit). Or like the vine, choking the life out of other areas of life, such as finances (something has to pay for the creativity).
While each of those particular activities have a purpose and are useful for me, they are also potentially threatening to my day, my time, and to what God has called me to do. If I spend the day or the whole morning whittling away on one of these instead of caring for the family He has given me; or if I am pinning away on Pinterest instead of putting some of that new found creativity to use for my friends and family; if I waste the time reading all 300 or so friends statuses or playing games with my buddies instead of working on the writing that needs my attention I have allowed the pretty little vines to climb all over my day and they will begin to squeeze out those other and more important areas of life.
Perhaps you are not tempted by the things I mentioned. That's ok and good for you! I bet, though, you have something that pulls at your attention and threatens to run your day for you. Maybe it's television or talk radio, or noodling around with an instrument, or reading when you should be doing, or doing when you should be reading. Whatever it is catch the foxes. Scripture doesn't say kill the foxes, but catch the foxes, capture them and get them out of the vineyard where they don't belong. Manage your garden. What are your foxes? Do you have vines trying to bully their way into your day?
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