Let me get this out of the way: I believe in the devil. I believe in unclean spirits. If you don't, this post is not for you, I guess? But I would ask that you do a Bible search on it and examine why you believe what you do.
Our culture certainly has a fascination with evil -- who could deny that? -- but it is the particular way that the devil, Lucifer, is depicted, that I want to address. Listen, I'd prefer to call the devil "it" to shy completely away from thinking this being is man-like, but I know that is off-putting, so I will use "him."
The devil is crafty, sure. Satan wants to harm us, sure. But the two things that make me want to shout at cars are this: that you can win the devil's respect by outsmarting him, and that the dangerous nature of the devil is seductive and therefore sexy.
To the first: the devil's war is not with us; it is with the God who made us and loves us. We are tools of warfare to him. If a lobster crawled off the counter while you were busy boiling another one, would you respect that lobster? Of course not; that's absurd. It is absurd to think the devil would ever have that kind of begrudging admiration that is often depicted.
Now hear me, Jesus was both man and God, and the Holy Spirit (who dwells within us) is no less powerful as the one who had demons begging him for mercy. We do not need to fear the devil; we know how this story plays out. So does he. But if you look at the story of Satan v Yahweh, humans are supporting characters. I think having an accurate understanding of how the devil views us can help us realign ourselves with orthodoxy and out of our (relatively) recent cultural views.
Ugh, this "evil is sexy" thing. I mean, part of me gets it; danger is thrilling. Or perhaps I should say some danger is thrilling to me. But the devil isn't a rebel or a lone wolf or even only a tempter.
What Satan would like most of all to do with you is to imprison you, in front of the people you love and who love you the most, and especially in front of your children and those who look up to you, and torture you in the most painful ways in the most vulnerable areas until you die of something else.
He doesn't want to make a deal with you, he wants to drive you insane, to where you're destroying yourself and every relationship you have out of pain, over and over again for decades. Satan would love to take everything that makes you smile and turn it into a source of anguish.
That's not sexy.
Showing posts with label nightmares. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nightmares. Show all posts
08 March 2017
07 July 2016
Praying is Not Enough
Yes, we MUST be praying. Must. God is more powerful than hate or fear. As I struggle to find a way to sleep tonight, I having been praying the whole time. I'm sure you have been too. We must be praying.
But God doesn't ask us to stay in our houses and pray, the end. We are the body. We must act as Jesus would act. We must speak the words the Spirit gives. We cannot remain in our cloisters. The world NEEDS Jesus, right this moment.
My foremothers (and fathers, but I'm a mother) accomplished amazing things through Christ. And of course they were empowered, grounded, envisioned through prayer. The way was made for them by the Almighty. He went before and guarded from behind. But they did not just pray. They prayed and spoke. They prayed and wrote. They prayed and marched. They prayed and served. And went. And fed. And clothed. And healed. And mothered. And died, in Jesus' name.
Corrie ten Boom prayed. And she organized, hid, fed, clothed, and rescued. And when she was caught, she prayed, and preached, and comforted, and encouraged, and evangelized.
Please don't close yourself off to what God might want to do through you. People are dying. We MUST pray, and we MUST act.
But God doesn't ask us to stay in our houses and pray, the end. We are the body. We must act as Jesus would act. We must speak the words the Spirit gives. We cannot remain in our cloisters. The world NEEDS Jesus, right this moment.
My foremothers (and fathers, but I'm a mother) accomplished amazing things through Christ. And of course they were empowered, grounded, envisioned through prayer. The way was made for them by the Almighty. He went before and guarded from behind. But they did not just pray. They prayed and spoke. They prayed and wrote. They prayed and marched. They prayed and served. And went. And fed. And clothed. And healed. And mothered. And died, in Jesus' name.
Corrie ten Boom prayed. And she organized, hid, fed, clothed, and rescued. And when she was caught, she prayed, and preached, and comforted, and encouraged, and evangelized.
Please don't close yourself off to what God might want to do through you. People are dying. We MUST pray, and we MUST act.
Praying is Not Enough
Yes, we MUST be praying. Must. God is more powerful than hate or fear. As I struggle to find a way to sleep tonight, I having been praying the whole time. I'm sure you have been too. We must be praying.
But God doesn't ask us to stay in our houses and pray, the end. We are the body. We must act as Jesus would act. We must speak the words the Spirit gives. We cannot remain in our cloisters. The world NEEDS Jesus, right this moment.
My foremothers (and fathers, but I'm a mother) accomplished amazing things through Christ. And of course they were empowered, grounded, envisioned through prayer. The way was made for them by the Almighty. He went before and guarded from behind. But they did not just pray. They prayed and spoke. They prayed and wrote. They prayed and marched. They prayed and served. And went. And fed. And clothed. And healed. And mothered. And died, in Jesus' name.
Corrie ten Boom prayed. And she organized, hid, fed, clothed, and rescued. And when she was caught, she prayed, and preached, and comforted, and encouraged, and evangelized.
Please don't close yourself off to what God might want to do through you. People are dying. We MUST pray, and we MUST act.
But God doesn't ask us to stay in our houses and pray, the end. We are the body. We must act as Jesus would act. We must speak the words the Spirit gives. We cannot remain in our cloisters. The world NEEDS Jesus, right this moment.
My foremothers (and fathers, but I'm a mother) accomplished amazing things through Christ. And of course they were empowered, grounded, envisioned through prayer. The way was made for them by the Almighty. He went before and guarded from behind. But they did not just pray. They prayed and spoke. They prayed and wrote. They prayed and marched. They prayed and served. And went. And fed. And clothed. And healed. And mothered. And died, in Jesus' name.
Corrie ten Boom prayed. And she organized, hid, fed, clothed, and rescued. And when she was caught, she prayed, and preached, and comforted, and encouraged, and evangelized.
Please don't close yourself off to what God might want to do through you. People are dying. We MUST pray, and we MUST act.
09 December 2015
difficult news
Finally got some news about our case. The judge is refusing to issue the ruling until we appear before him so he can explain the conditions of our legal guardianship. We are trying to figure out the best course of action.
A few scenarios are playing out in my head:
1) We wait until the new judge comes in office on January 8th, not knowing how s/he would rule on our case, and probably having to do the court proceedings all over again (meaning another two months from then before we could get the girls home).
2) I go now before this judge leaves office and get the written ruling and go through the passport & visa process without the family, or the judge's conditions are such that we cannot accept guardianship of the girls.
I wish we could all go and just have Christmas in Uganda as a family, but we don't have the funds. We are trying to get more information so we can make a decision. Please pray for us. I was really hoping to introduce our daughters to the public today...
A few scenarios are playing out in my head:
1) We wait until the new judge comes in office on January 8th, not knowing how s/he would rule on our case, and probably having to do the court proceedings all over again (meaning another two months from then before we could get the girls home).
2) I go now before this judge leaves office and get the written ruling and go through the passport & visa process without the family, or the judge's conditions are such that we cannot accept guardianship of the girls.
I wish we could all go and just have Christmas in Uganda as a family, but we don't have the funds. We are trying to get more information so we can make a decision. Please pray for us. I was really hoping to introduce our daughters to the public today...
18 December 2013
On Fear
A few weeks ago, I started having stress dreams again. It takes me a while to recognize that that's what they are, but at some point the light bulb goes on and I realize, "oh, I'm afraid."
This round, the dreams were about losing Ezra (sometimes physically, sometimes to CPS, always with the threat looming but never fully realized. When the light bulb goes on, that's when I realize how hard our adoption process has been. My subconscious is scared, like a rabbit in the deep dark woods or something. In some ways, this adoption has felt like several miscarriages; there have been several paths we were sure would lead to our child being home with us, only to have the door close and the path cut off.
I have dealt with those losses individually, but I guess not with the point of view of the future. But I cannot deny that a small part of me is terrified (sobbing, crazy-eyed frantic) about us losing H. That she will be an example to our community and the world of a child who isn't "chosen" (even though she is), who doesn't have the dream come true, who is left on her own. What if our story is one of "we wanted her and weren't allowed"? What if that's the testimony, that things need to change, that children are often run over by governments and powers-that-be?
I can't. I don't know if I can handle it. So God invites me to walk in the garden with him, and my breaking heart is comforted on his shoulder. We probably won't know for months. I need his strength and his hope, because I have none of my own.
This round, the dreams were about losing Ezra (sometimes physically, sometimes to CPS, always with the threat looming but never fully realized. When the light bulb goes on, that's when I realize how hard our adoption process has been. My subconscious is scared, like a rabbit in the deep dark woods or something. In some ways, this adoption has felt like several miscarriages; there have been several paths we were sure would lead to our child being home with us, only to have the door close and the path cut off.
I have dealt with those losses individually, but I guess not with the point of view of the future. But I cannot deny that a small part of me is terrified (sobbing, crazy-eyed frantic) about us losing H. That she will be an example to our community and the world of a child who isn't "chosen" (even though she is), who doesn't have the dream come true, who is left on her own. What if our story is one of "we wanted her and weren't allowed"? What if that's the testimony, that things need to change, that children are often run over by governments and powers-that-be?
I can't. I don't know if I can handle it. So God invites me to walk in the garden with him, and my breaking heart is comforted on his shoulder. We probably won't know for months. I need his strength and his hope, because I have none of my own.
17 November 2013
Heartbreak?
We received a terrible email today from the program director of our adoption agency. Please pray for our adoption to be an exception, for us to be able to adopt our little H, and that God will miraculously change the hearts of the leaders of the Congo. Many lives are at stake.
Ugh that sounds obnoxiously dramatic, but it's unfortunately true. Most orphans and orphanages do not have resources from which to draw in the Congo. Those who care for them are forced to endure inadequate resources constantly. It's just not what it should be like.
I will update you more after we speak personally with our agency and figure out what our director thinks we should do. Please pray that God will give us clarity and conviction, and that we will be faithful to present our requests to God with thanksgiving, and in doing so, receive His promised peace.
Ugh that sounds obnoxiously dramatic, but it's unfortunately true. Most orphans and orphanages do not have resources from which to draw in the Congo. Those who care for them are forced to endure inadequate resources constantly. It's just not what it should be like.
I will update you more after we speak personally with our agency and figure out what our director thinks we should do. Please pray that God will give us clarity and conviction, and that we will be faithful to present our requests to God with thanksgiving, and in doing so, receive His promised peace.
13 December 2012
I'm Still Embarrassed.
If you think this is easy for me to say, get real. Okay, I'm going to tell you things of which I am ashamed, but of which I would urge someone else to not be ashamed.
I'll first take you to my freshman year of college. I was a part of a group that was really fun (and let me feel like I belonged even though I really felt I never did). That group had parties with lots of alcohol (in college! I know, it's shocking). Sometimes I would get really drunk - it wasn't something I did in high school; I was just kind of experimenting with it in college. And I wanted to belong to my group, and everyone got really drunk at parties, and I wasn't yet sick of hangovers. So I invited a guy to one of the parties - he was in two of my classes - small classes, too. We were friends - we ate lunch together several times a week. We got really drunk (or I did), like blackout drunk. I don't remember a lot but I know we got food and took it back to his dorm room. And I know we had sex. I didn't like him like that and I wasn't wanting to have sex, but I don't remember how it happened. I don't remember much of anything. I don't remember if he used a condom or even if his roommate was still in the room. That's how drunk I was.
Do you think I was able to give consent? This is one of the most important experiences of my life because I don't know if I'm supposed to feel ashamed or not. Sometimes I have called it rape; sometimes I've told myself it was my fault for being drunk and in his room late at night, or at least that he didn't do anything wrong. But I know how I felt afterwards. I felt gross. I felt worth less than I was the day before.
How does that work? I don't know. What does it mean? I don't know. Mind you, this wasn't the first time I'd had sex. It wasn't even the first time I'd had casual sex. It also wasn't the first time I'd had sex when I didn't really want to. But that story holds so much shame for me... I cannot tell it yet. It is also exactly the kind of story I want people to hear who think we live in a society free of what some call "rape culture," but I'm just too ashamed of my inability to withstand the pressure I faced 11 years ago.
I think there's something wrong with that.
I'll first take you to my freshman year of college. I was a part of a group that was really fun (and let me feel like I belonged even though I really felt I never did). That group had parties with lots of alcohol (in college! I know, it's shocking). Sometimes I would get really drunk - it wasn't something I did in high school; I was just kind of experimenting with it in college. And I wanted to belong to my group, and everyone got really drunk at parties, and I wasn't yet sick of hangovers. So I invited a guy to one of the parties - he was in two of my classes - small classes, too. We were friends - we ate lunch together several times a week. We got really drunk (or I did), like blackout drunk. I don't remember a lot but I know we got food and took it back to his dorm room. And I know we had sex. I didn't like him like that and I wasn't wanting to have sex, but I don't remember how it happened. I don't remember much of anything. I don't remember if he used a condom or even if his roommate was still in the room. That's how drunk I was.
Do you think I was able to give consent? This is one of the most important experiences of my life because I don't know if I'm supposed to feel ashamed or not. Sometimes I have called it rape; sometimes I've told myself it was my fault for being drunk and in his room late at night, or at least that he didn't do anything wrong. But I know how I felt afterwards. I felt gross. I felt worth less than I was the day before.
How does that work? I don't know. What does it mean? I don't know. Mind you, this wasn't the first time I'd had sex. It wasn't even the first time I'd had casual sex. It also wasn't the first time I'd had sex when I didn't really want to. But that story holds so much shame for me... I cannot tell it yet. It is also exactly the kind of story I want people to hear who think we live in a society free of what some call "rape culture," but I'm just too ashamed of my inability to withstand the pressure I faced 11 years ago.
I think there's something wrong with that.
05 September 2012
Out!
You will never guess where we found E sleeping this morning. Lemme splain.
So every so often, we close the door on Ezra in the middle of the night. He sleeps across the hall from us, so we don't need a monitor to hear when he wakes up (and he's always sure to tell us when he does). We don't close the doors frequently, just when we're sure that he's not hurting or in need of comfort, but when he just doesn't want to go back to sleep (he has never ever been okay with hanging out in his crib without us there). So when it's clear he's just being kind of naughty, and we've tried everything we know to do, and it's been an hour and a half for crying out loud, we close the door. Usually I'll go back in there after a few minutes to settle him down, and he'll lay down and go to sleep. But not last night. So we closed the doors again and went to sleep because I physically couldn't stay awake any longer.
I really do love my child, but I also know that I still have to take care of him the next day, and I can't do that well if he's kept me up for three precious hours (in fact I tend to dislike him on those days, which is sad). The fact that Ezra hasn't slept through the night since before the Staff Retreat (a month) doesn't help.
So we set our alarm for 6:30 - when he typically wakes up - and I open the door to find things blocking the way into the room and I'm like !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHEREISHEWHEREISHEWHEEERREISSSSSHEEEEEEE
Like that. Turns out, he decided to sleep on top of his changing table. Regardless of whatever you just pictured in your head, THIS is what his table looks like:
So every so often, we close the door on Ezra in the middle of the night. He sleeps across the hall from us, so we don't need a monitor to hear when he wakes up (and he's always sure to tell us when he does). We don't close the doors frequently, just when we're sure that he's not hurting or in need of comfort, but when he just doesn't want to go back to sleep (he has never ever been okay with hanging out in his crib without us there). So when it's clear he's just being kind of naughty, and we've tried everything we know to do, and it's been an hour and a half for crying out loud, we close the door. Usually I'll go back in there after a few minutes to settle him down, and he'll lay down and go to sleep. But not last night. So we closed the doors again and went to sleep because I physically couldn't stay awake any longer.
I really do love my child, but I also know that I still have to take care of him the next day, and I can't do that well if he's kept me up for three precious hours (in fact I tend to dislike him on those days, which is sad). The fact that Ezra hasn't slept through the night since before the Staff Retreat (a month) doesn't help.
So we set our alarm for 6:30 - when he typically wakes up - and I open the door to find things blocking the way into the room and I'm like !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHEREISHEWHEREISHEWHEEERREISSSSSHEEEEEEE
Like that. Turns out, he decided to sleep on top of his changing table. Regardless of whatever you just pictured in your head, THIS is what his table looks like:
Does that look sturdy to you? No? No! It's not! I don't even know how he got up there, but I guess the same way he got out of his crib with no bumper rails or stuffed animals or any other type of leverage.
I need a moment to calm back down.
So, we're trying to figure out what to do, once we can get up off our needs thanking God that E didn't hurt himself on the many sharp and dangerous things we have in that room. Really, it's just for sleeping; we keep the door closed during the day and everything.
I feel like a really bad parent, but is it normal for a small 18 month old to climb out of a crib that's fully lowered? I mean, he's only 31 inches tall. There's 21 inches between his crib mattress and the top of his crib. And that table is 36 inches tall! I certainly don't have that kind of upper body strength, and he's a toddler.
I need another moment. I've needed lots today. You mommas you, when did you put your kiddo on a mattress on the floor, or in a toddler bed? Or should we just move his crib into our front bedroom, which is free of enticing things like my sewing machine and our totally-full bookcase?
25 August 2012
Dear Students
It's that time of year again, and I just wanted to have a little chat. Well, what I mean is, we need to talk.
I love you. For serious, I do. We live here just to reach out to and interact with you. I enjoy getting to be around you and am really excited for this school year.
But, when you get on the road, please stop trying to kill me and my child. I know you don't know where you're going, and I totally remember believing subconsciously that I was invincible and could never die as a result of my own recklessness. I get it. But still, I have to tote my child around with me, and trust me, you will not like me when I'm angry. And if you hit me because you're crossing three lanes of traffic in the middle of an intersection, or decide to go straight even though you're in a turn lane, or just aren't paying attention to those pesky traffic lights bc lol ur txting, well, I will get angry. I will call your parents. I will tell them what you were doing and that you don't have a shirt or shoes on right now (but that you are wearing your swim trunks).
So please, for the love of your fellow College Stationites, and your poor parents, just STOP IT.
Love and huncalfroyo,
m
[these scenarios are all what I've seen in the past week; thank God we haven't had a crash yet! Praying we'll stay safe during these particularly rowdy times.]
I love you. For serious, I do. We live here just to reach out to and interact with you. I enjoy getting to be around you and am really excited for this school year.
But, when you get on the road, please stop trying to kill me and my child. I know you don't know where you're going, and I totally remember believing subconsciously that I was invincible and could never die as a result of my own recklessness. I get it. But still, I have to tote my child around with me, and trust me, you will not like me when I'm angry. And if you hit me because you're crossing three lanes of traffic in the middle of an intersection, or decide to go straight even though you're in a turn lane, or just aren't paying attention to those pesky traffic lights bc lol ur txting, well, I will get angry. I will call your parents. I will tell them what you were doing and that you don't have a shirt or shoes on right now (but that you are wearing your swim trunks).
So please, for the love of your fellow College Stationites, and your poor parents, just STOP IT.
Love and huncalfroyo,
m
[these scenarios are all what I've seen in the past week; thank God we haven't had a crash yet! Praying we'll stay safe during these particularly rowdy times.]
06 August 2012
Mother-Love
Sometimes I just need a little space to grieve this lost mother-time. Our baby A has almost certainly been born by now. I should be more careful about looking at pictures of little African faces, because I can get kind of overwhelmed with thoughts.
Is he okay right now? It's 8 hours ahead in Uganda, so he's almost assuredly asleep. When he wakes up, will he see his birth mother, or anyone whose face comforts him? Will someone be there to care for him? Is he hungry or frightened? Is he okay?
Is my child, my little baby, okay?
You moms (and anyone with a knack for empathy) know how distressing that thought is. You also know that mother-love doesn't know time zones or continents or legalities or even time. Yes, technically I don't know if our child is a he or she (I tend to refer to baby A as a boy because that's what is familiar to me) or when s/he will become a Muenich. But my children are my children. I loved Ezra long before he was conceived; I love baby A long before we know who baby A is. But Ezra was with me from the time he was created. I've never had to wonder if he was safe or starving or being hurt. When he's sick, I care for him. When he's scared, I comfort him. When he's hungry, I feed him.
Perhaps I'm mostly grieving the loss of control of care. I can't protect my child, and I don't know how to deal with it emotionally. I suppose I'll have my cry and place baby A at the Lord's feet. Which, apparently, is a lot harder to do when you can't also be doing all the protecting yourself... merrr. Good to know you've been secretly relying on yourself. Whoops, sorry God!
Is he okay right now? It's 8 hours ahead in Uganda, so he's almost assuredly asleep. When he wakes up, will he see his birth mother, or anyone whose face comforts him? Will someone be there to care for him? Is he hungry or frightened? Is he okay?
Is my child, my little baby, okay?
You moms (and anyone with a knack for empathy) know how distressing that thought is. You also know that mother-love doesn't know time zones or continents or legalities or even time. Yes, technically I don't know if our child is a he or she (I tend to refer to baby A as a boy because that's what is familiar to me) or when s/he will become a Muenich. But my children are my children. I loved Ezra long before he was conceived; I love baby A long before we know who baby A is. But Ezra was with me from the time he was created. I've never had to wonder if he was safe or starving or being hurt. When he's sick, I care for him. When he's scared, I comfort him. When he's hungry, I feed him.
Perhaps I'm mostly grieving the loss of control of care. I can't protect my child, and I don't know how to deal with it emotionally. I suppose I'll have my cry and place baby A at the Lord's feet. Which, apparently, is a lot harder to do when you can't also be doing all the protecting yourself... merrr. Good to know you've been secretly relying on yourself. Whoops, sorry God!
06 April 2012
Adoption, Interrupted
I will post the next-to-last part of the Homestudy process (the education) next, but I wanted to give y'all a little update on what's happened this week.
Our agency emailed us Tuesday afternoon to avail us of some changes in the language the judges are using on their guardianship decrees in Uganda. Basically they've added a LOT of new requirements for families after they bring their children home. Now, adoptive parents have to complete four post-placement studies with a social worker (not so bad), self-reports every 6 months until the child is 18 (woah! So many! But theoretically feasible), and travel to Uganda every 5 years until the child is 18. That's crasy.
Now, if we were a two-income household, or if Stephen was like an engineer or corporation owner or something, we would probably be able to comply. But. We're not fancypantses. We never will be, and that's always been okay with us. But it means, at this point, we cannot at all promise that we'll be able to financially comply with these new requirements. We would probably need to save around/over $1,000 every year just to put aside for plane tickets.
I mean, that may not sound like much to some of you, but we have to focus to keep our emergency savings at a comfortable level. We don't have money laying around for a new t.v., or even a fence or a dishwasher (okay, we may have if we hadn't decided to adopt. But then we would've been saving for another birth, so...).
Sorry, I got into complaining. It just feels really unfair that we have to look for another country because Ugandan judges think this is what will keep children from being mistreated. Or maybe they think all Americans can afford these things. I don't know.
What I do know is the face I've been treasuring, a hazy little Ugandan face, the face I thought we would be kissing and cleaning and cuddling, is almost assuredly not the face of our child. I've been attaching to this face (I mean, not one particular face, but a conglomerate of Google Image-searched faces) for 6 months now. That's two-thirds of a pregnancy! And now I have to let him/her go, because some judge thinks this is in his/her best interest. It's in his/her best interest to have parents. There are children on the streets that orphanages just don't have room for. Babies are dying. I know you don't trust us judgeguy, but come on. Dead is worse than alive and being separated from one's birth culture. I mean, in my opinion.
Sorry for being a downer. I do believe God can do anything, but we also have to face other realities: how will our other children feel about so much of our resources being siphoned to what may feel like a vacation that only one child gets to go on? How will this affect our involvement in other ministries, like church planting? We don't parent in a vacuum. Even though every child waiting for parents deserves these sacrifices, that doesn't mean God wants us specifically to make them. I don't know.
I'm gonna hang up this phone. Stephen and I are in a bit of a time crunch because our social worker who's in charge of our homestudy is an intern, and her last day is Monday. If we don't give her a country to approve us for, our case will be shuffled to another social worker. Not the end of the world, but I don't really want our homestudy being written by someone who has never met us.
I know I can be excited about a non-Ugandan child. I just need to let go of his face. Of her face. And ask the Lord, "How do I grieve over a loss that isn't real? How do I let go of a person (my Ugandan son or daughter) who doesn't exist?"
Our agency emailed us Tuesday afternoon to avail us of some changes in the language the judges are using on their guardianship decrees in Uganda. Basically they've added a LOT of new requirements for families after they bring their children home. Now, adoptive parents have to complete four post-placement studies with a social worker (not so bad), self-reports every 6 months until the child is 18 (woah! So many! But theoretically feasible), and travel to Uganda every 5 years until the child is 18. That's crasy.
Now, if we were a two-income household, or if Stephen was like an engineer or corporation owner or something, we would probably be able to comply. But. We're not fancypantses. We never will be, and that's always been okay with us. But it means, at this point, we cannot at all promise that we'll be able to financially comply with these new requirements. We would probably need to save around/over $1,000 every year just to put aside for plane tickets.
I mean, that may not sound like much to some of you, but we have to focus to keep our emergency savings at a comfortable level. We don't have money laying around for a new t.v., or even a fence or a dishwasher (okay, we may have if we hadn't decided to adopt. But then we would've been saving for another birth, so...).
Sorry, I got into complaining. It just feels really unfair that we have to look for another country because Ugandan judges think this is what will keep children from being mistreated. Or maybe they think all Americans can afford these things. I don't know.
What I do know is the face I've been treasuring, a hazy little Ugandan face, the face I thought we would be kissing and cleaning and cuddling, is almost assuredly not the face of our child. I've been attaching to this face (I mean, not one particular face, but a conglomerate of Google Image-searched faces) for 6 months now. That's two-thirds of a pregnancy! And now I have to let him/her go, because some judge thinks this is in his/her best interest. It's in his/her best interest to have parents. There are children on the streets that orphanages just don't have room for. Babies are dying. I know you don't trust us judgeguy, but come on. Dead is worse than alive and being separated from one's birth culture. I mean, in my opinion.
Sorry for being a downer. I do believe God can do anything, but we also have to face other realities: how will our other children feel about so much of our resources being siphoned to what may feel like a vacation that only one child gets to go on? How will this affect our involvement in other ministries, like church planting? We don't parent in a vacuum. Even though every child waiting for parents deserves these sacrifices, that doesn't mean God wants us specifically to make them. I don't know.
I'm gonna hang up this phone. Stephen and I are in a bit of a time crunch because our social worker who's in charge of our homestudy is an intern, and her last day is Monday. If we don't give her a country to approve us for, our case will be shuffled to another social worker. Not the end of the world, but I don't really want our homestudy being written by someone who has never met us.
I know I can be excited about a non-Ugandan child. I just need to let go of his face. Of her face. And ask the Lord, "How do I grieve over a loss that isn't real? How do I let go of a person (my Ugandan son or daughter) who doesn't exist?"
02 April 2012
Homestudy Pt. 3 - P.S.
I sent my poor, well-intentioned husband to the lions on Friday. And by the lions, I mean the doctor.
The doctor's visit that you have to go to for your paperwork is... well it's daunting to me, which is why I was still putting it off after everything else was done, and only scheduled it basically because I knew our social worker would ask if it was scheduled.
Well, I knew Stephen needed for the appointment to be either on a Friday or a Monday, since he's full-o-meetings every other day. And so he got scheduled on Friday, whereas my and Ezra's appointments are today (Monday).
I know now that this was very foolish, indeed.
It sounded like the receptionist/appointment-maker was familiar with what would need to take place during an international adoption visit (i.e. the doc needs to fill out one form, and print out and sign another form in the presence of the notary they have in-office). But I don't think she did. Oops.
So Stephen's appointment was at 9:50. He gets there with his lil papers I gave him: one for the doc to fill out and sign for our homestudy agency, and an example of the letter he needed to print on his letterhead and have notarized for our dossier. For some reason, it was stressed in our paperwork that the dates need to be the same in our homestudy and dossier as far as the doctors visits go.
I don't know how it was unclear (my inclination is to say the doctor wasn't listening, but I know I don't really have a great opinion of most male doctors), but the doctor completed Stephen's physical, took the papers, and left the room. Stephen assumed he was going to fill them out, when he just went to see the next patient. So Stephen gets the first round of his travel shots (exciting! ow!), and I'm assuming the nurse tries to escort him out. Well, he lets her know that he needs those papers - you know, the entire reason he had an appointment at all...
No joke y'all, my husband rolls into our driveway at 11:30, still without those dang papers. I was a little bit freaking out, because what if Dr. Imperious just can't get to those papers until after the notary leaves for the day? Then Stephen would have to come in all over again (and plunk down another $25) because PEOPLE JUST WON'T LISTEN AND AUUUUGH! JUST BE COMPETENT! IS THAT SO MUCH?!?
Anyway, it turned out okay. We were already out of town for the Blassingame wedding by the time they were done, but they just put them in my file, so I can get them at my appointment.
And now I know.
If I want to keep my husband from needlessly being at the doctor's office for an hour and a half, I need to go in first. And you can be certain that I'm leaving my appointment with our papers. [endrant]
The doctor's visit that you have to go to for your paperwork is... well it's daunting to me, which is why I was still putting it off after everything else was done, and only scheduled it basically because I knew our social worker would ask if it was scheduled.
Well, I knew Stephen needed for the appointment to be either on a Friday or a Monday, since he's full-o-meetings every other day. And so he got scheduled on Friday, whereas my and Ezra's appointments are today (Monday).
I know now that this was very foolish, indeed.
It sounded like the receptionist/appointment-maker was familiar with what would need to take place during an international adoption visit (i.e. the doc needs to fill out one form, and print out and sign another form in the presence of the notary they have in-office). But I don't think she did. Oops.
So Stephen's appointment was at 9:50. He gets there with his lil papers I gave him: one for the doc to fill out and sign for our homestudy agency, and an example of the letter he needed to print on his letterhead and have notarized for our dossier. For some reason, it was stressed in our paperwork that the dates need to be the same in our homestudy and dossier as far as the doctors visits go.
I don't know how it was unclear (my inclination is to say the doctor wasn't listening, but I know I don't really have a great opinion of most male doctors), but the doctor completed Stephen's physical, took the papers, and left the room. Stephen assumed he was going to fill them out, when he just went to see the next patient. So Stephen gets the first round of his travel shots (exciting! ow!), and I'm assuming the nurse tries to escort him out. Well, he lets her know that he needs those papers - you know, the entire reason he had an appointment at all...
No joke y'all, my husband rolls into our driveway at 11:30, still without those dang papers. I was a little bit freaking out, because what if Dr. Imperious just can't get to those papers until after the notary leaves for the day? Then Stephen would have to come in all over again (and plunk down another $25) because PEOPLE JUST WON'T LISTEN AND AUUUUGH! JUST BE COMPETENT! IS THAT SO MUCH?!?
Anyway, it turned out okay. We were already out of town for the Blassingame wedding by the time they were done, but they just put them in my file, so I can get them at my appointment.
And now I know.
If I want to keep my husband from needlessly being at the doctor's office for an hour and a half, I need to go in first. And you can be certain that I'm leaving my appointment with our papers. [endrant]
09 November 2011
How Many?
I know it's heavy, and I don't want to be too serious (look, I have some broken places. If'n you haven't noticed...), but for real. When I think about my children being the exact same as these children, it gets real.
Let's rise up.
28 June 2011
New Mom Syndrome?
I'm not positive why, but I've been in a pretty sensitive mood today. I don't think it's "woman troubles, " but I guess that could be coming back (if so, LAME). It's probably a large mix of a hard, hard weekend, reading a beautiful book on grace-based parenting, and watching a couple of movies in the past couple weeks where a mother and very young child are separated. I'm tearing up just thinking about it.
What would I do? Would I be able to let go of Ezra if it would somehow save his life? Would I survive if the best thing for Ezra was to go be with the Lord at a young age? Do I trust Him with this child? Practically, in real life, do I?
I now understand Jesus said the end days will be terrible for new moms. I thought I new before, but now I do. I know the Lord is so good, and Ezra is so safe with Him, but it is scary. Will I always feel this way? How could that work, with the pain associated with growing up? Surely this feeling will calm a little, right? Is it because he's helpless now? Or do you, as a mom, just get used to feeling this way about your kids? Or am I some sort of freakmom who doesn't know how to correctly view her child?
Surely this isn't how God feels about us? I mean, maybe sometimes. I don't know. For now, I'm going to nurse my son and go to bed with the prayer that the Lord would grow in me His love for E.
07 June 2011
Umm... Eww
Okay, this is what we found on our front door-frame as we left to go see Kung Fu Panda 2 Sunday night:
I used to think cicadas were nostalgic, and I loved to hear them... buzz? hum? And finding their shed exoskeletons was fun when I was little. Whatever. No more nice bug. This thing is a nightmare.
I'm really not sure this picture shows the full horror of a bug slowly shedding its skin in some sort of skin-crawlingly disgusting swan dive. I hope I never ever ever ever see this again. Ever.
On a mildly-related note, we enjoyed our first movie as parents. Stephen thought there was too much action, and I can see what he meant, but I still loved it. and CRIED at one part. But I'm a crier...
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