mid-month updates

• Thank you for making it possible for 71 kids to be treated for the most severe types of malnutrition and for giving generously to our 20 day fund-raising project. More than $7,000 was raised thanks to your munificent gestures and concern. 
• Our half-marathon went well. It was a very fun day.  Hope asked me on the way out the door on Saturday if I was "going to win it?"  I assured her that not only would I not win, I would not even finish in the top third.  She seemed totally unimpressed with me. :) We had a fun race and ran the entire 13.1 steady ... slow and steady may not win the race but it finishes the race. We got to see the female winner of the full marathon cross the finish line. It was moving to see a winner finish.  We will tell Hope that at least we watched someone else "win it."
• Thank you to each of you that have inquired about trips to Haiti.  Rather than be repetitive in this post we would like to direct you HERE for more information about teams/visitors. 
• We're excited to share more about the Heartline home and residential program for teen moms that is being planned and developed right now. Please pray for this program and the girls that will soon be joining it and especially for the Heartline board of directors meeting this week.
• Phoebe's court date is Wednesday. We're putting on our fanciest duds and hugging that judge (against his will if need be) and thanking him for bringing this season to a close.
• John McHoul is arriving in the Twin Cities the same day Troy and I do. We are removing his locks on Thursday evening. Watch for the YouTube of that bizarre event. 
• We are asking for continual prayer for the Cholera situation in Haiti. Please pray for those ill and those treating the ill and for a miracle to stop the spread of this disease.
• I spent some time in the last weeks finally going back and reading the hundreds of comments and emails from around the world from after the earthquake. I sat reading and crying and grieving for those that wrote with missing and dead loved ones. To read those notes was difficult and cathartic all at once. So much of January 2010 feels like yesterday. So much of January 2010 feels like a dream nightmare that happened a really long long time ago.  Some of the memories are crystal clear; some things I read had already been forgotten.  I am very thankful that when I arrived in the USA half crazy with grief and still processing trauma that I did not know we would not all go home for eleven months. I am glad we only figured out how long we'd be here in increments that we could better accept. Leaving our home and work and friends at a time of so much need felt disloyal and terribly wrong to me. I totally believe this time has been good and necessary. The season of limbo has ended for now, and that feels really good.

(written March 2010) Home is Everywhere & Nowhere

I knew for certain from the day we got to the Texas home that I needed to come back to my Haiti home to reconcile a few things and try to get myself right in the head. (No easy or short task for the hard-headed.) Troy must have known it too or he would not have signed up for two weeks as a single dad of six. It was important for me to come back home. I am thankful Troy knows me so well.

Home is everywhere and home is nowhere.

Being "home" has been good. I have so loved the past ten days and have been quite thankful to be here. John McHoul always says what a privilege it is to live here ... In the past I sometimes wondered if I agreed with him on that ... But I think I finally get it in a real way. I feel it. I know it to be true. It is an incredible privilege.

Haiti does not need me - or my family. We're lucky to live and serve and learn here - and more than anything that has been where the blessings have been found - in the learning and in the experiences and that is why we long to be here. I don't think any of us inflate our importance, we just know that God has worked on us - and - in us - so much these last four years. We love this country and we love our friends here and we love waking up to a new adventure each morning.

I spent those three weeks in Texas fighting hard against being there. I made a lot of people a bit miserable by being miserable myself. It felt like three years to me - I bet I made it feel even longer to my family. :(

I think coming back to Haiti has helped me realize that living in this tension is part of what it feels like to always long for something more, something like Heaven.

I was reading a blog someone linked me to and I agreed with much of what was written.You can read what Eugene Chu said in a recent post, "maybe it is not supposed to feel right."

When I go back to Texas to join my family on Thursday I am going to try to turn over a new leaf.

While I cannot completely remove the tension I feel surrounding all of this stuff - the fact is, I cannot change this situation.. Until Phoebe has U.S. Citizenship we need to be in the U.S. - and our family needs to stay together whenever possible. I think Troy and I thought we could just pass the baton off and take turns - wave to each other in the sky or something - but we did not think that through. We need each other and we need to stay together as often as we can. After-all, raising our children is a very large part of what God has called us to do.
When we first got to the U.S. having fun felt very wrong ... I kept thinking how unfair it is that I get to have fun, that I get to have a cushy life, that I get to have so many choices. I'd be lying if I said I can just turn off those thoughts ... but I do need to find a way to just "be" and accept the way things are with more grace. (I'll start by just trying not to be mad all the time.)
For whatever reason we're being given this "break" from our Haiti life. I can choose to fight it every day (like I did for 3 weeks) or I can let that go and try to have some fun and enjoy the rare and unusual treats of time with family and friends, a park, a restaurant, and a date night. I should soak up my kids and their utter joy over all the new and special things they can do in America and not just let it pass me by while I am busy being sad/mad/unsettled/confused.

The unknowns are hard. Paige has said "Mom and Dad - I count on you to have a plan and when you don't have one, I feel scared." I understand that. I feel scared too. I am so proud of Paige and the way she is healing and growing ... I think we are all learning to trust God in the unknown.
Haiti will be here when it is time to return. If that is six more weeks or six more months (we have no idea how long the process for Phoebe will take) I am going to try to be present in the place God has me. Moping around is not helping my kids and it is not helping my husband and it is certainly not helping me. My friends that I leave behind will know I love them even if I am not constantly sad and sulking.
My Uncle wrote me this note earlier this week, I am saving it to read a few times each day in the coming weeks -

"Tara- Glad you are starting over. And incidentally, “fighting this” isn’t just going to make you miserable, you will be contagious because everybody loves you and they only want you happy and healthy. Yeah… have your grief, have your anger, have all the ugliness, disillusionment, cynicism, etc. Have it until you and everybody around you is sick of it, and then give it to Jesus. He will take it so you can go on and bloom wherever you are planted for this season. End of sermonette. -R."

I don't want to become toxic to the people that love me. Home is everywhere and home is nowhere... but most importantly - wherever I am, God loves me and wants me to trust Him as best I can and love Him with my whole heart.

I'll keep working at that.

rapid miracles

Before  (December 2009)

After ~ only four weeks later

Left to right, this is Ronel (7 years old weighs 28.5 pounds in before photo), Marie-Lange (2.5 years old weighs 13.4 pounds in before photo) and Wideline.  *They are a sibling set.  Wideline was admitted at the end of 2009.  She was 6 years old and weighed 30 pounds when admitted.  She got down to 26.25 pounds after losing some of her water weight caused from the kwashiorkor.

These three kids have one other sibling that is still nursing.  The mother and father are very thin as well.  (photo below) As a family they had to save money for two weeks to bring Ronel and Marie-lange.  The RHFH clinic would have seen them for free but they wanted to pay the small fee to get their charts made.  2 charts for $1.60 US and it took them two weeks to save and get that together.  These three kids were simply starving.  There was nothing else wrong with them.  They just needed food.  That was it.

Any variety of food given consistently would have helped them gain weight but over and over we've seen that Medika Mamba adds weight quicker than anything else.  These kids looked and felt tremendously more healthy after just a few short weeks.  The proof is in the before and after photos above.

Certainly the hardships faced in Haiti by families like these are heartbreaking and numerous. Those hardships only increased and became more complicated on the day the earth shook, now ten months ago. When the situation gets this dire the best thing to do is respond quickly with something that is known to work miracles rapidly.

For approximately $100 a child can be on Medika Mamba for a treatment plan lasting somewhere between 60 to 90 days depending on the severity of their case.   (As an added benefit this product is produced in Northern Haiti and is creating jobs.)

Please chip-in to fund this program so that Lori, Licia and Zach can continue to be able to use this product to help the children and families they serve recover quickly.

How many more kids can we raise funds to treat in the remaining three days? 

 

Please share on Facebook, Twitter, link to and spread the word in any way you can! Thank you.
*Photos and facts pulled from Licia's archives with permission.

taking pride to new levels

Having now spent the better part of 2010 in this great state, we can honestly and confidently say that these are some intensely proud people here. There are multiple reasons not to mess with Texas.

Our November and December are quickly becoming frighteningly busy.  The next 7 weeks will fly by.

Troy has had a couple of photography opportunities of late and is currently out doing his fourth shoot of the week. I found it  humorous that he made mention of being glad he did "not have to do pets" when Jimmy and Laura, friends of ours, showed up as his second shoot in a row with a dog in tow.  He is a pet photographer. Don't let him tell you otherwise.  :)

My little sister is coming to TX (the best state in the universe) on Friday to join us in San Antonio. I think she is undecided on whether she will run the full or half marathon. Some people just decide those things on the fly. But only because they are freaks. I'm excited to head south on Saturday morning with Britt, Chris, and my best friend Tina. We will all be at the start line Sunday morning.

Troy will manage personalities in Waco and celebrate our 12th wedding anniversary without me on Sunday. I imagine he'll celebrate by gazing lovingly upon our children, the massive amount of work the most precious little cherubs God ever created.

We seem to be having vehicle and electricity problems no matter what country we are in, and regardless of how much state pride we have.  In Texas something new breaks on the 'Suburden' each day. The muffler is long gone, the brakes are questionable. As door handles continually break, we'll soon be entering and exiting the truck Dukes of Hazzard style.  A line from the electric box to the dryer shorted out and Paige's room seems to have curious and unpredictable sparking issues. No dryer for a week was inconsequential ten years ago; today it is borderline earth-shattering. Small children could be consumed by the pile of laundry that has accumulated over the last 7 days.  Meanwhile, back in Haiti there is no EDH power running to our house (they cut it - we owe them big money) and our only vehicle has been beat up a bit and is not currently operational.  We're curious how our kids will do walking 9ish miles to school on January 4th. Walking will be much quicker than navigating that PAP traffic anyway, so there is that.
On the bright side, at least we're experiencing some consistency in our two worlds. 

We bought paint to touch up the damage the precious little cherubs have done to the walls of our borrowed Waco home. We've also begun to research the best carpet cleaning companies in central TX to have them set aside a week or so in December to try to work carpet miracles. We've made lists of the end tables and lamps that require repairs thanks to the boys.  We've also prayed that no one reading this blog attends the church that owns this home.  [If you do, please consider these descriptions of your house exaggerated strictly for the purposes of entertainment ... And more importantly - please don't stop by unannounced.]  ;)

If you've asked me about visiting us in January and I've not replied, this is the paragraph in which I plan to be brutally honest while attempting not to offend you.  Here goes:  We are certain that the first month+ back will be a major transition for all of us.  There will be tears, melt-downs, adjustments, and tantrums. Plus the kids could experience some challenges too.  We need to get our house and truck running again and get settled into school and a new more challenging daily routine of life ... For example, last November we woke up looking like this some mornings ... and we still have these neighbors to learn to love again.

We once loved them enough to write jingles about them,  so there is hope!

Because of those and other things, we are reserving January for adjustment and have decided not to commit to much more than that. Dokte Jen will be living with us and she is the only person that gets to see the inner-workings of a family this size adjusting from a life of ease and convenience back to roosters, mosquitoes, rodents and road-rage. She has lived with us before so she knows what she is in store for come January.

I need to find some quarters and the little girls and head out to dry some laundry now. Will you please watch for some amazing Medika Mamba recovery/success stories here tomorrow?  We humbly ask you to consider sponsoring us for the race on Sunday in order to help a severely malnourished child recover and find hope.

Thank-you!
tara

I run II

PAP marathon training

I've been running a lot more miles now that Texas has cooled down so much and the race is on the calendar.  I don't usually allow weather to dictate my miles because in Haiti no cool down ever really occurs and high temps are never an excuse to skip it.  Truthfully, I don't really miss Haiti's running conditions, I only miss my Haiti running partner.

The path here in Texas is smooth; no rubble to dodge. The sights are mainly beautiful. The friendly exchanges are numerous. The air is clean. Running in Texas is without all the drama and unexpected bizarre mishaps. It could even be described as peaceful.

I have come to count on my run as my processing time and a large portion of my prayer time. Going for a run restores me and acts as a physical, emotional, and spiritual reset button in my life.  The gifts of running don't stop there. Running has been especially important this summer and fall because I've had so much to process.  While most of this break in the USA has been restorative, some things have been painful. I typically cry while I run, pray while I run, and listen to worship music while I run.

One of the better benefits of running has been its ability to knock the pride right out of me. I know there is nothing bad about that.  The reasons my ego gets crushed on a run are numerous...

• I have hideous form.  
• When I am tired my arms do the totally wrong thing. 
• I am slow - I am only getting slower each year. 
• I have flat feet and chronic trouble with keeping my hips in alignment. My body is totally uncooperative with distance running.
• I could work with the best trainer on earth and never run a 4 hour marathon.

I love running, in spite of not being a natural. Being at the bottom of the talent pool (which is a nice way of saying untalented) allows (which is a nice way of saying forces) me to rely more upon mental/spiritual strength than physical strength.  I find that in a tangible way I can tackle a challenge of a certain difficult portion of a run or a difficult distance by relying on God.

Crazy?         No.  True.

As an aside, I will say that I recently learned that Simon & Garfunkel's, Scarborough Fair, is not the best motivator when trying to run a quickly paced mile or two.  Also, excessive sweat on the dial of an ipod makes it impossible to turn the song forward. After Scarborough Fair comes Sounds of Silence; which incidentally is also a very bad running song. If my husband was not such an odd specimen with his 1966 folk musical selections on my ipod, I'd probably be a much faster runner.

(You can ask Troy why Simon & Garfunkel are some of music's most important artists of all time and why I don't know anything about anything.) 

Because running has been such an important part of my life for more than six years now, the phone call I received on our trek from MN back to TX in August nearly made me wet my pants.  (Could have been the excitement, could have been the four cups of coffee and the 20 hour car ride.)  On the other end of the phone was a woman at Runner's World magazine informing me I'd been nominated and chosen to be in their December 2010 issue. I realize that 98% of the world has no idea that this magazine exists, making this post such an anti-climactic thing for you.  Suffice it to say it was quite the opposite for me. I can't really explain it ... It would be like an average to below average quilter getting their quilt in an issue of the always popular, 'Quilting Quarterly' magazine - or something much more exciting than that.

In September they interviewed and came and did this crazy photo shoot with lights and fancy equipment and all our kids were in some shots.  The whole experience was highly entertaining and slightly nerve-wrecking. Something about standing on the running path with my gear on while watching amazing athletes fly by at the speed of light (staring at us with curiosity) and the irony that my lard-butt would make the magazine while their speedy-butts never will  ... I would find that slightly annoying if I were them.

Sorry fast runners.  Haiti is in the news this year. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Haiti - I Run - written in 2009

7:00 am-

I am off and running.

The sun is beginning to climb high into the sky. The streets are crowded. Each person seems to go about their business with purpose. Everywhere I look I see throngs of people trying to make a few gourdes. They sell bananas and eggs and deep fried plantains. They negotiate price, they trade, they make their way.

A pregnant woman who looks to be expecting her child today balances a basket full of mangoes on her head as she hurries toward a friend motioning for her to come quickly. The air is thick with the diesel from the overburdened roads. A haze of smoke from burning trash hangs in front of me. Dust kicks into the air with each passing car. We all breathe it in, we all exhale it out. I run.

The foot finds very little even ground on which to land as garbage and rocks are scattered all around. On the corner goats hang upside down by their legs off of sputtering tap-taps as people push in trying to pay the driver for their ride. Just above our heads an enormous United Nations helicopter whirls, deafeningly loud, as soldiers gaze down upon the chaos of the city. The sound is overwhelming, it seems to be bouncing off of the cement houses and amplifying as it does.

Loaded automatic weapons are cocked and ready as white truck after white truck of Brazilian men in fatigues roll by. A small child walks alone with a five gallon bucket of water on her head, dust whirls around her feet as she walks, it appears she herself has not had a drink in days. Giant piles of reeking trash jut out into the roadway. Workers in yellow t-shirts scoop it up. Their work won't soon be complete. Two men argue and begin to push while frightened little ones peek from behind their mother's skirt.

Outside of the giant Embassy people shove and elbow jockeying for position to tell their stories to the guards, trying to get their chance to see an employee and ask for a visa to visit another land. Cars and trucks strategically speed up and slow down fighting to park in a place where they can see the most. A woman exits weeping, her request to go see her ill father has been denied.

Another half mile down the road, trucks jammed full with people and animals honk impatiently waiting for a chance to turn - an accident blocks the road. No police arrive; the angry and injured must fend for themselves today. A silver streak appears overhead as an American Airlines flight screams toward landing. People don't stop what they're doing to look up in the sky. They keep selling, pushing, moving, surviving.

In the distance, as far as the eye can see, more and more and more of the same. I run.

In my right ear, I have my mp3 player on as loud as it will go. Derek Webb sings and reminds me This Too Shall Be Made Right. The combination of the music in my right ear and what I am taking in with my left ear and the dozens of situations I see around me cannot be easily reconciled or accepted. Does God see this too? A wave of something that feels like grief hits me. I am bombarded by a multitude of thoughts. I run.

I find myself feeling such admiration for the endurance of the people around me, for their ability to do so much with so little. I wonder how they do it. I find it unfair, even ugly. I feel angry. I feel weak. While I admire the strength I see, I somehow simultaneously feel pity. They probably don't want my pity. I wonder why life cannot be easier for them. Tears stream down my face and I run and run and run. And I try to make sense of it all.

The song in my right ear changes. I pick up the pace as I am nearing my home and when I pray a strange peace washes over me - I am listening to these lyrics:

Mercy, weep over me Let Your tears wash me clean - Majesty, be merciful with me ... mercy mercy mercy.

And I pray for mercy as I run.

Minnesota Bound

We're getting ready to head to Minnesota early tomorrow for a quick three night trip. We're excited to see and squeeze our MN peeps. If you are at the World Wide Village Banquet Saturday or the church on Sunday please introduce yourself and let us squeeze you too.

Tonight a gift was given that completed the goal for the upcoming race that Britt and I are doing. Your gifts make it possible for 40 kids to be treated at RHFH with Medika Mamba.  There are 9 days until the race.  I am so excited to see 40 kids helped. In the next nine days left we could easily help another ten kids. $100 treats one child. Any amount helps - we're so thankful for your generous love in action. Thank you for responding and caring.

Haiti news is sad - Cholera death toll rising. 442 confirmed deaths, but with so many unable to easily get help when they are ill the actual total is likely higher. 2,000 new cases reported this week. Hurricane Tomas is hitting them tonight. Heavy rains and wind for 1.3 million people that live in tents and under tarps. Flooding usually happens in even the shortest rain events. This will be very difficult for everyone.  "Very difficult" is just a lame way to say horrifically bad. We are trying to turn our worries into prayers.  Lord-"Show us Your mercy. We beg You! We are not strangers to contempt and pain." Psalm 123:3

Megan has arrived to take over as mother, father, driver, cook, and butt wiper while we are in Minnesota. She seems ready. The kids are excited she is here and fighting over her. Paige was accused of "hogging Megan" in one complaint that was filed during dinner tonight. We found Paige guilty. She is appealing the decision, but not until she gets back from the movies with Megan.

There are some really solid organizations working in Haiti.  Investigating how donor money is used is helpful in deciding if they are worthy of your gifts. Some good work is hard to quantify because it might be less about numbers and flashy media and more about individual relationships and mentoring. Lately we've been less and less impressed with the really 'big dogs' in the NGO world and so much more touched by smaller grass-roots work. All that to say, please take a minute to check out this medium sized organization,  IJM and their work. They've recently begun to address the child trafficking issues in Haiti. On November 15 every American can help them - even if not able or interested in donating. Check out this link for information on making a phone call to help children and mark your calendar for November 15, 2010.

"Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope."
-Robert F. Kennedy

Annie Update

For those that have been along for the ride since before the earthquake, we wanted to let you know that Annie is doing great in Minnesota. (See photo evidence.)

We feel so lucky to have her in our lives still. For those that don't know, Annie is Isaac's little sister that lived with us for two years (while the adoption was in process) in Haiti. She was adopted by Tara's little sister and one of Troy's best friends who happens to be married to Tara's little sister.

Confused? Yes. Us too.

It means that Isaac's sister by birth is his cousin by adoption. It means that a friend Troy grew up with is the adoptive Dad of a child related to our adopted son. Weird and Awesome.

We all miss her but truthfully I think Isaac misses her the most. He has a deep love and connection to Annie. Tonight when we were talking about her he said, "I think I know why our first Mom let Annie go." I said, "Why buddy?" "I think she wanted me not to feel alone without my ancestors in my new family."

First of all, I had no idea he knew the word ancestors. Show off!  Second, we know from talking with her at length what her reasons were ... that wasn't one she chose to list verbally  - but it is certainly a comforting thing for Isaac and we're glad it helps him feel loved and connected.

Annie will celebrate her third birthday this month. We're so glad her new brothers and Mommy and Daddy won't miss any more birthdays ever again.  

Happy Birthday month sweet Annie girl!

a picture is worth ...

Boston Globe Photos

the f word ...

Keeps us from trusting.

Keeps us from risking.

Keeps us from healing.


Keeps us trapped.


It tells us lies :
You are not good enough.  It will be too hard for you.  You will fail.  It will be too painful.  You're beyond help. You cannot do it. 

Fear.  I hate it.  I hate what it does. I hate how tricky and twisted its effects are. I hate how much harm it causes.

Fear of intimacy, fear of failure, fear of success, fear of rejection, fear of abandonment, fear of openness, fear of commitment, fear of things that we don't understand, fear of judgment, fear of change - and the list goes on.

Underneath most anger, you'll find fear. Underneath a lot of arrogance/pride, you'll find fear.  Underneath resentment - fears of what forgiving might mean, fear of being vulnerable.

Fear is tricky because it looks like other things on the surface. It manifests itself in many ways and is usually well disguised.

Troy and I learned from a really great counselor that most of the anger stuff he struggled with in Haiti was actually fear. He acted angry as a cover for what he really felt sometimes, which was a fear of not being able to protect his family.

About a month ago we were getting in our truck to leave Sunday morning worship a man going by on the street looked me in the eye and as I was loading my kids in the truck he yelled at me, "That's a _____ (insert racial slur) church."  I was fairly stunned and just looked at him as he rode away.  I wondered, why say that? Why did he need to say that to me? I can only guess that his anger makes him feel in control - but underneath that anger is the real problem, he is afraid.

Turn on any major news network and within a few minutes they'll report on something while telling you how fearful you ought to be. 

People refuse to admit when they are afraid because admitting fear is giving up control. They would rather stay comfortably duped in their counterfeit world with a false sense of control.

We heard a pastor/professor preach on fear this summer. He pointed out that all throughout history people have struggled with fear.  Adam and Eve, Moses, Joshua, David ...  the list is long. Pastor Casey preached that the key is not to stay in a place of fear but to daily allow God to help us identify and deal with our fears.

The truth is, at some time or another, all of us have been negatively affected by fear.  Some people live their entire lives in bondage to it, allowing it to stunt their growth and make them bitter and angry.

Fear acts as a filter that blocks truth.

God has been dealing with me on this issue lately.  I have had a sense lately that we are experiencing some spiritual growth  (and so much more room for that remains), but this issue crops up for me again and again.

The issue is fear; the type of fear that can end up tripping us up as we try to follow Jesus wherever it is He calls us. Sometimes I bring it on myself and other times I allow the words of others to plant it. An email asking me if I have seen this news story or that prediction, or a disapproving stranger telling me we're crazy can serve as my spring-board into worry. I can literally be 100% fine one day and then get nervous and questioning the next.

Realistically I know that we will face opposition and illness. Those are not irrational thoughts.  The difficult part is finding the balance between being realistic about the challenges while not falling into fearful thinking. As I look at what lies before me as a mom, a sister, a daughter, a friend  ... and I think about moving back to Port au Prince soon with some of the most precious people in my life ...  I get a little bit afraid.

It is not at all that I don't want to go back, truthfully I am so excited to get back. It is just that I psych myself out sometimes.  At times I get caught up in worrying about details and logistics and unknowns; things that worry and fear can not and will not change.  If I ever allow fear to gain any permanence in my heart and mind it would wreak havoc.

Over and over again God has shown up in my life to do battle. Sometimes that means to comfort and to heal and other times that means to protect. I have four+ years of proof of that in Haiti. I don't want to forget what He's done. I want to remember that He has not changed. 

God says: "Fear not." 

That's what I am trying to do.  

~ tara

Isaiah 41:10 (NKJV)

¹⁰ Fear not, for I am with you;
      Be not dismayed, for I am your God.
      I will strengthen you,
      Yes, I will help you,
      I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.’
     
"Our God is not a God of safety. He does not promise to spare us difficulty. He promises to be present with us working out His holy purposes. He is not going to spare us. He is going to be with us."
-John Casey

Happy Birthday Phoebe Joy

Four

We all remember the day we learned Phoebe would be joining our family. In some ways it seems like it was yesterday.  On that night we sat together praying that God would protect all of our hearts if anything happened that might prevent her from being legally adopted. There was much uncertainty surrounding the adoption process; the obstacles were plentiful. We missed the first ten weeks of her life, but she joined us in January 07' and has been with us ever since.

One

Not only does she turn four today, but she will also officially become Phoebe Livesay (finally a real person on paper) in mid November when we appear before a judge in a Texas court.  It is the very last step in a long process to make Phoebe legally ours. We're very grateful for this answered prayer and so excited to see that judge and get our final stamp of approval!

Two

 
We are grateful that Phoebe is our daughter and we are eternally thankful for her first Momma who endured a long and difficult pregnancy in Cite Soleil in order to give this beautiful little girl life.

Three

HAPPY 4th BIRTHDAY Phoebe, you are loved!

National Adoption Month: Honoring First Families

November is National Adoption Month.


Creation Groans from Christian Alliance for Orphans on Vimeo.



In July, friends wrote and shared these posts on the topic:

To Adopt or not to Adopt (Christine Moers)
A Vision Test - Transracial Adoption (Amie Sexton)
Hindsight - More on Transracial Adoption (Amie Sexton)
Adoption thoughts - (Kristen Howerton)
Our post from July  (T & T)

Adoption is not the only answer to the enormous orphan crisis; it is one piece of a the large puzzle.

There are multiple ways to engage and respond: Read this for ideas.


In recent months we've been reading a few blogs written by adult adoptees. Their feelings and experiences can often teach us how to be better parents, whether we agree or disagree with their opinions. 

It is clear that as a society we've learned a lot about adoption and the loss involved over the last 30+ years.  People don't typically keep adoption a secret like they might have years ago. Open adoption is becoming more common. Hopefully we're recognizing more and more that being open and honest and allowing our children to feel things without fear of anything other than acceptance and understanding is important.  It seems like a lot more adoptive parents are going into adoption without the fairy-tale heroic ideas of what it means to adopt.

Our Haitian kids will always (as long as their moms are alive and desire it) have a relationship with their first moms.  We recognize this is not possible for everyone. We were honestly very nervous about it at first, but only because we were insecure and did not know for certain how that would feel.  Risking relationship with them has been a beautiful thing for our kids, their first moms, and us. Even though there are some uncomfortable things about it, we want our kids to know that they are free to love these women with whom they are so deeply connected without threatening or damaging us.

Troy and I recently shared our thoughts about honoring first families at a conference we attended. (Full disclosure: we are advocates of open adoption whenever it is possible.) It has troubled us to learn that some adoptive parents don't speak of their children's mothers with respect and love. We've heard people say, "But her mother abandoned her" or "His mother was an addict". While all of that could be true we humbly submit there are some other truths to consider.

Consider N's story. N. lives among the poorest women in the world.  She daily struggles to figure out how to feed herself and her five children. She has been taken advantage of numerous times and is without support of family or friends. One day, desperate for food, N. sells herself for a dollar or two in order to provide food for her hungry children.  Six weeks later N. learns she is pregnant.  Twelve weeks after that N. tests positive for HIV.  Twenty-two weeks later she gives birth. Because she is desperately poor and the father of the baby not only gave her a son, he gave her AIDS; she places the baby for adoption.

What should this little boy grow up hearing about his first mother?

In a world that is totally broken and corrupt there is no way to understand the social, cultural, and economic structures that lead (and sometimes force) a woman to "abandon" her child.  It is naive to think that a woman with choices and support would walk up to a train station and leave her kid there with no other information. If Haiti has taught us anything, it is that things are rarely as they appear to be. Dozens of things we cannot see or understand from our cultural perspective are in play - and some of them are grievously unjust.  Even if you only know that your adopted child was left somewhere by their first mother, you can find a way to speak lovingly about her. Doing that will only serve to make your child feel more secure.

Have you ever met a recovering addict?  They are almost always totally new people transformed and being redeemed.  Imagine if for 20 years any time the topic of your child's first mother came up you said, "Yes but she was high on drugs. She is addicted and has problems" -  what if your child's entire identity was built on thinking his or her mother was some sort of loser - would that be helpful? - and - can you be sure that the first mom has not been cleaned up and restored?  Is it fair to label a person for life with something they struggled with for a time?  Even if you are certain your adopted child was born to an addict, you can find a way to speak lovingly about her. Doing that will only serve to make your child feel more secure. She should be given the opportunity to change. Our words about her shouldn't taint the chance and hope of a future relationship between your child and their biological parent.


Even when children are removed from abusive homes and placed into the system, they won't be helped by hearing from their foster or adoptive parents how horrible their mother or father was/is.  There are ways to be truthful and honest without constantly speaking only negatively about a child's first family.

If you think about it, when any of us have a conflict with our parents or are upset we might say, "My dad ticks me off. What a jerk he was to me",  but if someone else walks up and says "Your dad is such a _____"  - we are instantly very protective.  We are bound to want to defend our own flesh and blood because we are a part of them.

Many years ago one of my best friends placed her daughter for adoption. She did it out of sacrificial love. At the time she was struggling with substance abuse and unresolved trauma and she made the difficult decision to place her child.   I learned a lot from watching the effects the adoptive family's choices had on her and her grief over the years and it is mostly because of what I learned that we have sought relationships with Isaac, Hope, and Phoebe's mothers. As a parent I want everything I say and do to build my children up and to model the love of their Heavenly Father for them. Honoring their mother is one of the ways I can do that.

I don't believe any mother in the universe gives up her child without pain.  I strongly believe that as an adoptive parent it is my job, my obligation-  to love, honor, and pray for the first mothers of my children. 

I hope and pray that November 2010, National Adoption Month, will serve to bring more awareness to the orphan crisis. I hope awareness moves us to action. Adoption is one of the ways we can respond - and we believe it can be a redemptive and beautiful thing.  Along with that, though - we hope it brings awareness to the women in this world that are mothers who have lost their children, women that have been under supported and even exploited. They have suffered and they need our respect, support, love, and prayers.

Weird Kid(s) Entry #642

We've been at this great conference hearing wise speakers that work in development. We've really enjoyed the last couple of days of learning. 

I left Troy at the conference and snuck out at 3pm today to meet Kim, a fabulous lady that helps us with the youngest two occasionally.

Once Lydia and Phoebe were in the truck we headed to pick up the other four kids.  Lydia wanted to sit in the third row and then proceeded to taunt me because I could not reach her or do anything about her plans to strip down to her birthday suit.  I was pretty sure Paige did not want us pulling up to her school with her three year old sister nude so I did my best to talk Lydia out of her wicked plan. It sort of worked.

The younger kids get out of school first. We got to Isaac, Hope and Noah ten minutes late.  Their school charges $6 per kid per 15 minute period.  The kids got in the truck and started lecturing me about what that just cost. "MOM - Do you know how expensive that is?!?"  I assured them that I'd pay the $18 fine and life would probably go on - maybe only one night without dinner. Some days you hit every single red light in Waco in one day.  Like today.  Isaac shook his head disapprovingly. I actually felt a little ashamed as we pulled out of the school.  I'll do better next week...but only because Troy will be in charge of school pick up again next week.

We went over to Paige's campus to wait on her school to let out 15 minutes later.  In the area where cars line up to wait on kids we rolled down our windows and enjoyed a gorgeous Texas afternoon.

After a while a kid in the car behind us hung his head out and yelled to Hope, "Hi Hope!" Hope returned the greeting.  Isaac stuck his head out to say hello.  Noah stuck his head out to say hello. 

The kids said, "Why are you all in that car?"
Isaac said "We're waiting for my sister."
The kid said, "Yeah but why are you all in THAT car?"
Hope said, "We're with our mom waiting for our sister."
The kids said, "Yeah but why are you all in that car?" 
It was like listening to a broken record and the conversation was getting them nowhere.

Finally I said, "You guys - he doesn't know that Noah is your brother and he is having trouble putting together why you would have Noah in your car." 

Noah took charge.  Noah stuck his head out the back window as far as he could and yelled to the kid, "We are adopted that is why we are in this car."   (?)  The boy said nothing in reply.

I looked in the rear view mirror just in time to see Noah's smug celebration over setting the boy straight and Hope rolling her eyes. Isaac shrugged his shoulders and said, "I guess that was it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The kids have their eclectic assortment of costumes all ready to go. We're planning a 58 hour all-weekend-long sugar binge with skyrocketing highs ...  all ending in a dark and very deep depression Monday morning. We kicked it off with candy and cupcakes and orange icing tonight.  Tomorrow there will be numerous opportunities to consume even more sugar in multiple forms followed by Sunday where we will resort to placing fun-dip* IV's in each child's arm.

Happy Halloween er, I mean Fall Harvest.

*Disgusting American candy popular with hyperactive six year olds. Sugar, citric acid, and food coloring reduced to a powder substance

addressing faulty assumptions about poverty

We're enjoying our second day of a three day conference focused on working in impoverished communities.

A few weeks ago we made mention of this book. "When Helping Hurts" - How to alleviate poverty without hurting the poor and yourself.

Today we get to hear one of the authors, Stever Corbett, speak.  This book is filled with a lot of hard truths about the way our "help" is often times very damaging to the people we're working with and among.  We've learned a lot in our time in Haiti (still learning) and are nodding in agreement while reading this, if you're considering any sort of work with the poor we highly recommend this book.

Here is a link to their site if you would like to check it out.

prayers

If there is righteousness in the heart,

there will be beauty in the character.

If there is beauty in the character,

there will be harmony in the home.

If there is harmony in the home,

there will be order in the nation.

If there is order in the nation,

there will be peace in the world.

So let it be.

- Scottish Blessing

May your hand be outstretched to all you meet.

And may all men say 'Brother' when they speak of you.

May the land be fertile beneath your feet.

May your days be gentle as the sun-kissed dew.

- Polish Blessing

Father, I have learned
that one strong in calculation
is called a mathematician.
You are the greatest mathematician
because You can count all the people
yet still see each one of us.

From: God is no Stranger - Baptist Haiti Mission




Praying today for all those ill with Cholera and all those working to treat the sick.
 God give them strength.
Amen.

Barber Shop

(Written by Troy)
Tonight things almost got ugly at the Livesay House. Actually, we did experience some full-on ugly for a short period. Fortunately, things have calmed down now and all the little ones are tucked into their beds - including Isaac and his beautiful new nearly bald shaved head.

Let me back up - this afternoon Tara reminded me that Isaac has been in desperate need of a haircut for a while now. I think subconsciously I had been avoiding the topic because of an acute awareness that the cutting of the hair on said head always seems to be a stressful experience.

Each time Isaac is due for a haircut, there is mounting pressure and increased awareness that:

1.  This hair is much different from my own
2. I do not really know how to properly care for/cut/manage it yet myself
3. Caring properly for this hair is culturally important in ways I do not fully understand
4. Isaac thinks he wants an afro but only when he forgets that it means we have to pick/comb through it and he hates having that done. The tears of keeping it tangle free are too hard.
5. Not only are there cultural ramifications to take into consideration - also a great deal of the wedded bliss I generally experience is at stake -- AND --
6. I make some really bad decisions under duress

We have a lot of things happening over the next few days, some of which include visits to the kids' school and many moments where I can almost hear people saying - “What are those white people doing with those brown kids?” Knowing how important one’s personal appearance can be in such situations, I reluctantly agreed to take Isaac out to get the job done.

I hesitated for a while - then Oprah was on the television and I was happy to have any excuse to get out of the house.

I set out with my two sons in tow and resolved to make this a positive experience. I have had a few failures in the past regarding the realm of Isaac’s coiffure, and really wanted this time to be different...

I began having visions of a powerful bonding experience with the boys - hanging out in the barbershop - crossing differing beliefs and boundaries with ease - laughing at stereotypes - teaching my sons  and others important lessons about our shared brotherhood with all peoples - scoffing at cultural mores........
What I was really picturing was me, Noah, and Isaac kicking it with some dudes like Ice Cube and Cedric the Entertainer a la ‘Barbershop’ the movie.  I wanted it to be a really great afternoon.

In case you don’t want to read about the rest of this train-wreck I will cut to the chase right now: I failed on all fronts.

We regularly pass a real old-school barber shop down the street - it’s got a real barber pole and looks totally legit. I have fantasized about my cross-cultural experiences in there many times and knew it was the place to take Isaac for this round of beautifying. The sign by the road boasts “OPEN SIX DAYS A WEEK”, but Tuesday is apparently not one of them...even though the sign in the window was flipped to “Open” and the plaque on the door proved we were there during regular business hours.

Next best idea - stop in and see J.B. - the beautiful, patient, amazing, sweet, talented woman that has helped us with Hope and Phoebe’s hair during our time in Waco. I needed her advice. (Part of the reason I was so looking forward to rocking it Barbershop-the-movie-style was because of my positive experiences sitting around for hours in her salon as the only white boy in a female beauty salon that specializes in braids - I know you’re jealous.) J.B. recommended a place called “Nappy Roots” and gave me a loose idea of its whereabouts. Sounds perfect, right?

Too bad I couldn’t find it.

I cruised through town for a while in search of barber poles and life-changing experiences. I found ‘The Jockey Club’ - sitting empty and locked up during normal business hours. I considered the Baylor University Barber Shop but something told me that wasn’t going to be quite what I was looking for. Next up were the ‘Star’ and ‘Solutions’ Shops - one closed...and one I could not locate. I got on the phone and talked to Britt who was driving home in another part of town - I briefly explained my predicament and she did a drive-by check on a real dive of a place called ‘Cuttin’ Up’ or something similar....closed. Britt reminded me that I had technology in my hand that could help me search for what I needed. I had been searching for a while and finding the right place was important.

I used some fancy phone app that tells you what businesses are near you - search terms - “MEN’S BARBER” - response - did you mean BARBERS - clicked - YES - saw - TITO’S DOWNTOWN BARBERSHOP - got excited - drove to Tito’s - expected great things.

Seriously - Tito’s Downtown Barbershop? How perfect does that sound?

Well, it wasn’t.

Here’s where the bad decisions really start. I walked in and had a bad feeling. This was not the experience I had desired.... I was looking for urban and instead I got Old West, like cacti and tumbleweeds. I knew I was risking it because Tara had specifically stated that no one even remotely whiteish was allowed to touch Isaac's head. I was trying to turn around and leave but then got pressured by the two desperate barbers in the empty shop to “get a haircut man - no problem - we can do it”.

I explained to ‘Tito’ that the handsome young man with me was in need of a nice haircut and politely asked if he was familiar with cutting the particular type of hair that he has. Then I asked a couple more times more loudly and with less words - as Tito does not hear too well these days. Later, I learned that he apparently does not see all that well either.

He was very convincing and reassuring. Noah was very distracting. I really wanted this to work out. Oprah was also on the television in the men's barber shop and that really troubled me. These are my excuses.

I had to leave and get cash around the corner because Tito’s establishment is in every way exactly the same as it was fifty years ago. The chairs. The smell. The decorations. The brooms. The combs. The straight-edge razors. The liquid antiseptic. The warm shaving cream. The cash register. The no credit/debit/any sort of plastic card machine. Normally, I would have really enjoyed that. As I walked out I noticed some of the wall decorations indicated that Tito was probably Native American. I naively trusted that he had a better shot at handling Isaac’s hair than the blonde lady up at Supercuts. Boy was I wrong.

When I returned from the cash machine I found Isaac standing in the dusty waiting area - Tito’s attention now turned to the next victim in his chair - and the sight of quite possibly the worst haircut I have ever seen in my life on my son’s head.

To sum it up briefly - there were clumpy and chunky parts on top ‘faded’ down into swirls on the sides and a large C-shaped swoop carved into the back of his head. It looked like someone threw a weedeater at his head while I was gone.

I was horrified. I felt really bad for Isaac for enduring the pain and stress of it so tried to maintain a brave and complimentary face. I stammered a kind of a questioning ‘you’re done?’ to Tito even though it was clear he had started on the next guy already. Tito, of course did not hear me. I was at a total loss and after watching him work over the buttons on the cash register fumbling to see each one - I decided that any attempt he made to fix this disaster would most likely just make it worse.

I knew one thing at this point: I could not go home.

I discussed the situation with Isaac - he wanted me to fix it at home. There was NO WAY I was going home with him looking like that. Noah, on the other hand, thought it looked awesome and wanted ‘designs’ on his head, too.

Noah is not generally helpful in any sort of stressful situation of any kind. Consider yourself warned.

I really wish now that I had taken a picture to document this monstrosity but I was far too stressed out to consider that at the time. I wanted no proof whatsoever of what had just occurred.

I recalled seeing a salon inside of the Waco Wal-Mart store that was staffed by women that looked like they knew what to do with pretty much anything - and decided to see if they could save me. (And Isaac.)

We walked in, the lovely young brown woman at the register did her best not to shake her head at me as I explained our predicament. She did crack a smile, however, and I was encouraged that we had found our solution. There was some consultation among her colleagues and looks over shoulders at us...then she sent us back to the chair of a slightly less lovely and less young woman that could not have been more disapproving of the whole affair. She did not like my jokes. She did not sympathize with me on any level. I thought she might kill me before this was through. (Ok, it wasn’t that bad but I was definitely scared of her.) Over the next fifteen minutes, she managed to salvage the disaster and turn it into a very nice closely-shorn well trimmed head and my handsome son looked beautiful again.

Once she had finished saving my life and was taking my money (for the second haircut on the same head that I had paid for on the same day) - she lightened up and really enjoyed making me tell her again how exactly I had managed to get his hair so messed up in the first place.

Tito’s Downtown Barbershop - zero.

Smartsyle Salon in Wal-Mart - a million

Thank you Smartstyle ladies - without you I could very well have ended up sleeping outside tonight...because I could NOT have gone home to let Tara see what I had done to her son.

Lesson learned - no one. NO. ONE. EVER. Who is not brown... Will ever. Ever. Touch my boy’s head again.

I should have listened to Tara in the first place. I had to add this or else I know she would tack it on at the end anyway. ;)

The next barbershop experience will happen in Haiti and I fully expect to fulfill my dreams of hanging with dudes just like Cedric and Ice Cube - but we’ll be speaking Kreyol and pulling electricity off of car batteries for the shavers and it will be awesome. I can’t wait.

Looking back, Looking forward : Medika Mamba Program

So many things in Haiti provide us opportunity to check our motives, learn about our hearts, face our failings ... and hopefully grow.

The cruddy part of that learning and growth seems to be that the the greatest growth is born out of hard situations and painful things. You just don't seem to learn all that much from having a perfectly easy rainbows, leprechauns and unicorns type of life.

Renald is just one of the people that have deeply impacted us in Haiti. It was a year ago this week that he returned to his family. The smiling photo posted to the right is a recent photo from a visit to the RHFH clinic. He is not really steadily gaining weight, but he appears healthy and has not lost any weight. In Haiti, that is basically a victory. And we'll take it.




Renald was almost four years old and weighed only 13 pounds. He was filled with worms and very sick when his mom brought him to RHFH in Cazale, Haiti. Licia and Lori allowed him to come live with us during his recovery. Because of Medika Mamba and lots of love he went back to his mom very healthy and 25 pounds.  He touched many visitors and readers with his joyful spirit and his will to survive. He is a beautiful picture of God's healing power.

The day Renald returned to his family, we wrote about the experience here.

Paige spoke about Renald at the WorldWideVillage Banquet last year. See it here.   (Password: Renald)

Licia and Lori at RHFH are the hands of Jesus as He works healing miracles in the lives of hundreds of kids each year. They help nurse children back to health and return them to their families month after month. They are a part of what God is doing to restore these precious little ones. Here and here are a few of the kids they helped last year. There are dozens more posts like this if you wish to plug in the key words "Medika Mamba". If you go to their blogs you will see posts like these every month.

To learn why malnourished kids can sometimes appear puffy rather than skinny, read this post.


Just yesterday RHFH posted this beautiful progression of healing:

Week One

Week Two

Week Three

All of these girls are receiving Medika Mamba (click to learn more about the product) thanks to the generosity of so many of you that gave the summer of 2009 when we raised money for M.Mamba.

Licia and Lori pour their lives out to help these kids, the only thing they need from us is prayers and financial backing.

The average treatment lasts about 10 to 12 weeks. The cost to treat one child using the Medika Mamba product is $100.   These girls look THAT MUCH BETTER after only three weeks on the product.

In twenty days Brittany and I are going to run a half marathon in SanAntonio, TX - we have spent a lot of our training runs talking about and praying for Haiti.  On one of our last runs we spoke only Kreyol for a long portion of our run in order to help clean the cob-webs off of my dusty and limited language skills.  It is not news to you that we are emotionally invested in Haiti.  We decided last minute that we should use this opportunity to ask you to sponsor all or a portion of treatment for a malnourished child by sponsoring one or both of us for our November 14 race. We want to run for these girls pictured above and dozens like them.

This is a relatively short fund-raising effort. We have 20 days.

We would like to ask you to take the next 20 days to pray specifically for the suffering children in Haiti. Before this most recent crisis dealing with Cholera, Licia said that she was seeing a higher volume of severely malnourished children coming through her doors.

In addition to that prayer request we respectfully ask that you consider whether you might be able to help treat a child by giving a financial gift.

For every $100 that comes in, another child admitted to the RHFH Rescue Center can be treated with this fabulous, miraculous, life-saving product. 

Let's see if we can raise enough money to treat 40 kids in the next 20 days. 
Ready, set, go!

* All donations given through the chip-in meter will be designated to purchase and provide Medika Mamba at the RHFH Rescue Center.

Dear Someone Somewhere,

Originally written/posted June '08

{I am without deep or humorous thoughts tonight. Re-posting an old post until I can come up with an original thought. ~tara}

A while back I put parentheses around the word (Haiti) in the blog title. There was a reason for that. Because we reside and work in Haiti the majority of readers come looking for Haiti news. Every so often we get an email that says, "more Haiti please." We get that.

We'll keep telling Haiti stories, the good the bad and everything in between. There are some stories that are hard to tell and time needs to pass before they're told, there are others that are hard to explain without causing offense and therefore feel wrong to tell. But no matter what, those stories will always appear here whenever possible.

In October of 2006 I said this:
Blogs are on-line journals. Everything is editorial. It is just our opinion, we recognize you will either take it or leave it. We're not a news organization, we're a stupid blog.

Contrary to one person's criticism, we do not think Haiti is hopeless, why would we be here if we thought that? Sure, sometimes it feels that way when surrounded by so much poverty, so little infrastructure, and many years of poor government management. We're human. We get discouraged. But there is always hope. Without Christ, our lives would be without hope. With Him all things are possible. We believe that with every fiber of our being.

And, while many of our experiences have reshaped our thoughts about faith, and Haiti and ministry, (and about blogging) the words above are still true. 

We also will share the random, inconsequential, mundane and unusual things that happen in our lives. We love that you're here. We love that you're reading. We know some days you're like, "Say something would you?!??!!?" Because things can get pretty fluffy. Many times you probably wish we would shut up about our kids. We get that too. We're so fond of them though!

Unfortunately, this is the closest thing to a baby book my kids will ever have. I bought all the stuff to do books for them. Yet - only Isaac has a finished product. That leaves six kids that have very little in the way of history recorded for them. I would spend time feeling like a failure over that, but let me be honest -- there are so many other things to beat myself up about, who has time to bother with something I have neither memory or energy to reproduce. I could probably come up with something for the five youngest. But to document anything about the two oldest when they were little tikes - that is ancient history. Thank goodness I took lots of photos.

Truth be told, we keep this blog for many reasons. Some selfish, some not. I would never ever journal in the traditional sense of the word. I cannot read my own handwriting and I just wouldn't do it. This is my journal. This is a history I can leave my children and their children.

When we left the USA I left behind things that I called "recreation." I miss long weekend runs along quiet Minnesota roads, breathing in crisp fall air. I no longer have the luxury of meeting a friend for a day of chatting and encouragement. We don't double date with our friends anymore. There are not sporting event outings or concerts. Not complaining, just explaining. (Okay, maybe I am complaining a little.) Writing has replaced those hobbies that are not available to me here. For whatever reason there are days when writing is cathartic. Because I cannot always easily talk it out on the phone with my mom or a friend, well then ... by golly ... I will write it down for dozens of strangers to read. ;) That makes total sense.

In reality, the MAIN point of blogging (outside of - and more important than - the ones already listed) ... is to hopefully encourage someone somewhere. Troy and I believe that God is the author of every good story, and without any prideful tone, we think we are one of those good God stories. Here is why: No less than 11 years ago we were broken, hurting, lost, twenty-somethings in search of God. Troy would tell you he was leading a double life, and I was pretty trapped in my own deceit. We'd both done things we were terribly ashamed of and we were both running hard from anything and everything that smelled like, looked like, or even hinted of God, "religion" or faith.

The fact is, we hope that we are a living, breathing example of the way God writes redemption stories.

If you've ever said "God cannot use me" or if heaven forbid- some holy-roller person told you that you were not usable because of X Y or Z in your past - you must know those are lies.

God can and does use anyone willing to be forgiven and forgive themselves. We had to do that in order to allow Him to work. We've seen and experienced rejection from those who believe falsely that God is only performance based ... and we venture to guess you have too. Throw off those opinions, they are very small things.

What is true about you, what is true about us-  is what God sees. And if we believed today - that God cannot use us - because TODAY we struggle with the hard facts of life and we grapple with deep questions of faith --- we'd have to close up shop. There is a way in which God can use anyone and everyone seeking Him. Having every little answer packaged up nice in a fancy box is not necessary or possible.

Not. Necessary. Not. Possible.

There is a misconception about what it looks like to be used. I don't think it only looks like going to Africa to hold AIDS babies.  I don't think it only looks like pulling up stakes and going somewhere far from where you live today.

I think it looks like something different for each person. That is an issue for each of us to work out with God. I think for some it is reaching out to the guy next door whose wife just left him, inviting him over for dinner. I think for others it means coming along side a 16 year old that is pregnant and afraid. Maybe it means baby-sitting for a struggling single mom down the street. Maybe it is as simple as being kind to a real geek/dork that you work with. Maybe it is finding out how to interact with the homeless in your community and going way outside your comfort zone to do it.  It mainly means allowing God to take us to uncomfortable places where we're loving people that we don't find all that lovable. The location in which it happens is irrelevant.

The people that showed me unconditional love when I was a pregnant unwed mother (twice) are the people that changed the course of my life. The people that showed Troy compassion during a time of searching and running and lying are the people that laid the ground work for him to be doing that for others today.

We hope there is something here for you. Whether it be a story about Haiti that moves you, a goofy kid moment, a confession that helps you know you're not alone in your struggles or a chance to see God's amazing creativity and ingenuity by working with ordinary people that are not missions trained, ordained, perfect, or even all that together ... Be encouraged.

tara (& troy)