Generosity

I have the gift of generosity. And I wanted to talk about it openly bc I think people can get tripped up in different ways around this topic. 

This came to mind as I was reading in Matthew 6, which you will recall if you grew up churched or if you've spent time in the Gospels. Jesus makes the hyperbole of one's left hand not knowing what one's right hand is giving. 

Being in support-based ministry means I have access to another aspect of this by seeing some give anonymously in order to follow this principle.

But really, this passage is about self-glorification and not about how giving makes you feel. When I say I have the gift of generosity, I'm saying it is a great desire of mine, and (or maybe even because) it is incredibly rewarding personally. 

What I wish I had, almost constantly, is the gift of service. Even to me, it feels more useful, which is crazy, because our church plant would not exist without people giving to support 8 members who are also on staff (5 of them are full-time). A church like Taproot (and Fellowship, our Mommy church) could not flourish without generosity. But service feels tangible. Service feels more, well, servant-like. Jesus didn't run around Judea throwing denarii at people.

Still, generosity is listed in the Bible, so we all can agree it's legit. But the Matthew 6 passage has bothered me as a niggling doubt in my head since I started following Jesus at 20: should I enjoy giving quite so much? Is my attitude toward giving shaped mostly by growing up with (certainly by a global standard) a very comfortable life?

But generosity sows itself in many different ways, and I have come to some healthy realizations over time through giving a gift that many would interpret as an act of service, such as preparing meals for a retreat, or even doing a small part of such prep, like pricing out food to know where it get it more cheaply (or if a meal would be too expensive to make for, say, 300 college students). 

I know they are gifts and not acts of service for me because (1) acts of service is a love language I do not speak at all (and my husband, a serverman, can attest), and (b) I do it and experience others' reactions to it differently than those who do these things out of a love of serving.

 And it's just looked on well to do things like make meals, mainly because a lot of people would rather have their toenails pulled off. But to me, feeding someone is caring for their bodies and selves and lives. It is a delight to me to spend hours making a cake for my friends or family: it is a way to lavish love on them. Making food people enjoy, and seeing them communing together around a meal that I made (or orchestrated), I teem with joy in and gratitude to the Lord.

Make no mistake, I love giving money. Love it. I loved it even before my husband went on staff, and I love it to this day. There are so many people I am DYIIIINNNNNG to support financially because I want to put my money where my heart is! I have learned the hard way that we can't support everyone I want to because we must support our family as well. This is not me tooting my own horn. This is me saying, giving someone money makes me feel alive in Christ; it makes me feel like I am advancing the Kingdom both in my own heart and on Earth. Just like with making food, it makes me rejoice in the Lord.

Please don't think we are big donors. Right now the vast majority of our income has to go toward caring for our family. And please don't think that I think this makes me better than those with other gifts. I really don't. I regularly wish I had the gift of service, because if I'm not careful, I'll make food for my kids or plan a fun time as a gift, and when they complain, it hurts my feelings. Honestly, having a gift of generosity is more annoying than helpful to me personally. But I want to be respectful of it, because it is a facet of God's personality to love being generous, and to delight in giving good gifts.

Refugees

President Trump. Executive order. 6 months. You know what I'm talking about.

Here's what I really don't get: the acquiescence from Christians.

I've been thinking and thinking on how to frame this in a gentle and gracious way. I'm really going to try. But what is happening here?

I cannot get past the conviction that God loves the foreigner. God loves the alien to be among his people. And I'm not just talking in the theocracy of OT Israel. I mean as part of His character: He loves and is for those who have found themselves (through no fault of their own) at the door of violence, starvation, and death.

So I don't understand why I'm not seeing an abundance of my fellow believers in America saying, "please show me exactly why we cannot take any refugees from these countries where people are really needing to leave." And why I'm hearing so much "I don't know" "it's only six months" "we need to keep our people safe" "better vetting" etc etc ad nauseum.

Shouldn't our hearts be starting from a place of, Is there no way we can accept refugees? Because, if I remember correctly, the religion we are to practice is to look after widows and orphans in their distress, and to keep ourselves from being polluted by the world. And this attitude I'm hearing seems neighbor-distancing and born of a spirit of fear and self-protection.

And that seems pretty polluted to me.




Also, if you don't like to talk about practical things based on ideals (which I would disagree with wholeheartedly), and you want to talk about Facts (real ones, with numbers and dates and percentages), we can certainly do that. I feel very, very comfortable in my stance based on those as well. But that doesn't pain me. It's the attitude, which seems so different from the one I see in the God of the Bible, that grieves my heart.

Consent

Ugh, here I am, talking about consent again. [whatever consent is my jam] But something came up and I can't let it go without thinking this layer of consent through. Mainly because I'm struggling to fall asleep because of it.

Seven years ago, I was in Houston for a conference with a friend. I decided to pick up some music equipment for Stephen's Christmas present while we were there. It was from something online -- was craigslist a thing back then? -- and I and my two friends drove to the other side of Houston to get it. It was kind of a crazy adventure feeling, since none of us had ever been to this part of Houston before. I texted the guy in order to get his address and stuff.

Two hours later, he sent me a picture of his penis.

Listen, I know "dick pics" are a super common thing nowadays. I know. But they weren't in 2009! I had literally never heard of anyone receiving a picture from a stranger of his penis. And I had, I guess a panic attack? I don't know what you'd call it, but I was sobbing, immediately, uncontrollably, in the middle of a church auditorium during this conference's 10-minute potty break. It was not logical; it was visceral and subliminal, and it took a good 15 minutes for my conscious efforts to get my body to calm down enough to call Stephen to hear from him. And he was the right person to call, being my safest place and also my spouse and also a man. I could be reminded of who I am and who men are. He was angry for me, let me cry at him, and helped me make a plan of action.

I'm still glad I responded to that guy, telling him that if he ever sent me pictures of his genitalia again, I'd call the police, and I had his address and phone number. I sincerely hope he never did that to anyone again. Get this though: he said he meant to send it to his girlfriend, and I believed him.

That's how you know it wasn't a "thing" yet. Because what else was he going to say? Hey, I literally only-kind-of met you, but I thought you'd like an up-close photo of my penis. Hey, I'd have to scroll back to see your name, but want to have sex? But I didn't even know this was something any guy would conceive of sending to a stranger on purpose. [lol to my naivete. Sigh to that that was naive.]

Tbh, I'm really glad I believed him at the time. I felt so violated, and it helped a little bit that it was an accident. But for real, he put that picture in my mind on purpose and without a moment's thought to whether I wanted it there. Or if I was even available! I'd been married ten months at the time! I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOUR PENIS, STRANGER.

Now that it's so common, it made me wonder why I reacted so wildly. A lot of women shrug it off by blocking the guy or sending a witty retort. Some women shame the guys publicly or contact their significant others (which I absolutely support as a natural consequence of their actions).

But in digging around online, I haven't found a whole lot of "the first time it happened, my body couldn't decide whether to cry or hyperventilate." So I'm trying to suss it out.

My current guess is that there have been a few times (I'd say three, off the top of my head) where I was in situations that were not consensual (where I was not only uncomfortable, but wanted to get away asap). The first one, at 14, was relatively mild, but formative for me in my understanding of who has power in sexualized encounters (hint: not me). The second (17) and third (18) were very violating and emotionally traumatic. But it took me a couple of months to recognize the last one as bad, a couple of years for the middle one, and maybe 12 or 13 years to realize the first was really not okay, and I felt not only not-okay, but I also felt powerless.

I felt helpless [ugh even the word is gross] in all three situations to control what was happening to my body. [In the third I was actually powerless, being blacked out from drinking. ugh.] And this stupid music-selling guy took my power away! The power to decide what I do with my own eyes.

For heaven's sake, this is why I'm calling it rape culture without any shrinking back. Because, and I'm not kidding you, all four of the guys I've referenced above didn't know at the time they were traumatizing me. They were doing pretty normal things guys do in our culture -- seeing how far a girl would go, assuming romantic advances meant I'd be down to have sex that night, and sending a peen pic to see if I'd be interested. I really don't think you'd call any of them predators if you knew them. [I can't vouch for penis pic guy since I NEVER KNEW HIM]

And I have had so many conversations with God and my scarred, embittered, terrified heart, all because these guys weren't taught not to grab girls, or get what they want if they can (including asking a girl on a date and then taking her in your car to your house instead), or that a girl (who is so drunk she's struggling to eat her takeout) in your dorm room late at night isn't necessarily there to have sex with you.

God and I, in my journey to let him into my heart, have untangled webs and defused bombs and buried corpses, all centered around my safety with men and with him. And the very worst part of all of that is that this part of our culture has made letting God love me and being vulnerable with him so much more arduous than it ever needed to be. And the fact that I'm still needing healing from things that happened to me in my teens (and then at 24) makes me angry.

I really don't know what my life would be like without Jesus, but I am positive I'd be incapable of having healthy relationships with men. Also I'm just so thankful God gave me Stephen, who has embodied the ideals of consent for the past eight years. And my brothers at Taproot, our lil church sapling, who treat me like a person first and a female second.

I pray our sons will treat women with the level of respect I now receive. I'm working hard to ensure all my kids understand that another person is as much of a human being as they are. We'll see how it goes.

..And I can't promise I won't murder castrate maim hurt any boys who haven't yet learned to treat my daughters as image-bearers of the omnipotent, awesome Creator God.

May our Lord have mercy on us all.

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.

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.

MaceFace

You know, I've lived in College Station for the vast majority of my life, and we're moving to a new city in (possibly less than) a year. And you know what I'm going to miss most?

...not knowing every route to everywhere (though it is convenient)...

...not the proximity of everything (bc there's not much to do here)...

...not even Fellowship Church, my home for over a decade.

It will be this woman right here.

I know it's not a quality pic. But wouldn't you miss someone who would look at you like this?

I mentioned Macie in my last post, because her husband, Mark, was ordained with Stephen. And Macie is such a great candidate for the role of Pastor's Wife, not because fits some mold, but because she is a minister. And she loves with breadth and depth. She is so committed to God and to her relationship with him. Springs of living water flow from her, because she puts action to her desire to abide in Jesus.

Mace and her gorge fam

And she loves me. She loves me even though I'm, frankly, not a great friend. She texts me encouragement and I often don't even text back you guys. Not even a "thanks!" #yesreallyabadfriend

I love her too, so much; I'm just not good at loving people well. I can say that, the Holy Spirit spoke almost those exact words to me (full of grace and favor as well as truth) about my husband. But Mace is a delight to my heart, and I'm going to miss seeing her face more than the home I grew up in.

Okay, also because she's like really pretty.

Would you take a moment and pray for her? Her loss is worse than mine, because she's losing two other great friends to our church plant move. We're going on an adventure (but the real kind, with hardships and struggle; not the sightseeing kind), and she has to go about her normal life without people she's shared it with for many years. Not that we can't still be close, but it isn't the same as living on the same block and seeing each other almost daily. So I'm asking for you to pray for her now. She loves prayer, and this is a great way for you to help me bless her. Thanks.

My Husband, the Pastor!

Stephen was ordained on Sunday. Which feels both like an obvious expectation and just so crazy at the same time. He was celebrated by our church and a few of our supporters on Sunday.

He was ordained with our good friend, Mark Gonzalez. He and his wife went on staff a year before Stephen, and Ezra & their oldest kiddo are only six weeks apart, so we've been going through the gamut of being campus staff and then parents together for a long time.

current pastors praying over the new pastorlings

After giving them a litany of charges (protect the flock, be devoted to serving, other things I missed because I had to take Stella to the bathroom), the current pastors laid hands on them and prayed over them. Then they brought us up to pray over us as families.

Seen here totally NOT about to make out with Pastor Steve.

Our kids endured made it through the whole service surprisingly well, especially considering we were at the front of the entire crowd and it was well past their lunchtime before it was over.

This man of mine is really incredible. I don't talk about him a lot on here, but he is. He parented our boys himself while I was gone in Uganda, all while working as much as he could to not use up all his paid time off. I cannot tell you how tired he was. And then when we got back from Uganda, he decided he would take the kids over to his parents' house once a week to give me a night off -- even though he never gets a night off ever. And he decided to wake up early every morning so he can get to work earlier so he can come home earlier and spend time with us. He also also lets me sleep in on his days off. Not to mention how he encourages me and keeps us focused on our financial goals, since we're moving to San Antonio in a year and we just had this crazy expense called adopting two children internationally (or whatever).

Also he's super handsome and loves babies.

And we make gorgeous babies together, but that's just a bonus.

Being a Martha

I was reading in John this morning, thinking about what a bad rap Martha gets from people. Like she messes up once, but then when her brother dies, she goes out to meet Jesus and has this wonderful, powerful interaction with him. She makes this gorgeous declaration that Jesus is the Messiah, and when she goes back to tell Mary, she calls him the Teacher. Which was courageous, because it was definitely deemed inappropriate in that day for a rabbi to teach women (though Jesus didn't care much about that, obviously).

So it's not fair that she gets branded the stick-in-the-mud who's only concerned with keeping up appearances or in the things that don't matter. She made a mistake. It is super easy for women who manage households to fall into that very same rut of thinking. Because the house does need to run! Someone does have to make sure people are fed and laundry is washed and floors are cleaned. She just let the banal distract her focus and she lost her real purpose. If I was young, that sounds like a horrible offense against everything I stand for, but it's a frequent struggle now that so many of my daily tasks are menial. I forget that wiping bottoms and feeding children and making sure some are learning how to count correctly and which color is orange, and some are learning to read, and some are learning to for heaven's sake stop climbing on the bunk bed ladder; you will fall and it will hurt. And for heaven's sake, nobody touch each other because it always turns into yelling or crying at each other.

The point is, it is easy to forget that this is not why I'm here. I'm here to love and serve God, and to follow Him where He leads. That is my act of worship. It currently involves more poop and pee and screaming than I prefer. But I can bring my children with me to the feet of Jesus, and I can like throw myself at his feet and say "I'm sorry!" when I forget. And get really upset that not one of the kids ate lunch well today. And also maybe threw the Teach Your Child to Read book across my room I was so frustrated. Which totally did not happen today.

Anyway, I like Martha. She was a real person who had real flaws and real virtues. I just really appreciate having a (female!) person in the Bible who is as nuanced as Martha in as few verses. I want to face my failures without heaping shame on myself, and I want to proclaim courageously who Jesus is and who he is to me. And when I meet Martha in heaven, I want to thank her, another woman who loves Jesus.

Matoke and Posho

We found (okay, Linda found for us) a little restaurant we eat at pretty frequently. They make all the food the girls are most familiar with, and I want them to be able to have matoke, posho, and the like while we're still here.

That I get to have chapati may also be a factor.

This restaurant is around the corner from where we're staying. Unfortunately, the street we're living on is both narrow and busy, and people are really scary - one bodaboda driver who was carrying some boards knocked Mirah's arm while he passed by. The cars aren't better. They get so close to you, sometimes even when there isn't a car passing the other way.

What's Lusoga for smorgasbord?

It's nice to go in order to get out of the house as well. Because we're staying in a house, there are no other families nearby (who speak English). Just across the street is the market. Americans, I don't mean a grocery store; think a flea market but with food vendors. So much gorgeous food!

Oh my heart! What a little stinker! Love her spunkiness.

Tonight was a little difficult because I'd actually made dinner, but I used a pepper I didn't know, and it was incredibly spicy. I think they were habañeros... #oops
I didn't have time to make something else, so to the restaurant we went, at the busiest time on the road.

On the way home, I was hurrying because both of the girls needed to potty, and a car came really close to Stella (who was walking, holding my hand). A man walking the opposite way on my side gave me a dirty look and said, "take care of that girl!"

I know it shouldn't have, but it made me cry. Really hard. I have gotten angry and hostile looks, but no one has said anything to me until today. And I know a lot of Ugandans don't like foreigners adopting because they don't know the adoption process; many believe we can just walk into Uganda, shower people with money, and walk out with a kid. So it makes sense that they would be suspicious.

And that man doesn't know how hard I'm trying to "take care of that girl," or how close the one I was holding came to dying because others weren't taking care of her. That man didn't see how his face and tone affected "that girl" after he said those words. I wonder if he would care. I know to some, I'm a thief; I'm stealing children. To some, I'm a trafficker. Really.

And I in no way want to make light of all my daughters will lose by leaving their home country, and have lost already by my involvement in their lives. But to those people, I wonder what they would say if I were to ask them: would it have been better for Mirah to have died at the age of two of a treatable disease in her home country, or grow up to deal with that loss as she matures?

Maybe I'll ask her. In thirty years.

Ten Years

Did you know I've been a mom for ten years?

I mean, not really, but also yes, really.

My first son, my birth son, was born ten years ago.

I don't tend to carry a lot of memories with me; I've come up with several different guesses as to why that is, but they're just me judging myself with varying levels of severity. But I remember so much from the 7 months I (knowingly) carried him.

I am so proud that I got to be his first mom. It's hard for me to understand why God would take some really big mistakes I made and redeem them by allowing him to be born. And why he would gently and clearly lead me through the process of letting him go to be with the family God ordained. And he's allowed me contact with my birth son and his family, so I get to see him growing up into the amazing person God formed in my womb. What an honor.

Carrying and birthing him made me a mom. It changed me. It made me more like Jesus, in choosing love that wants good for that person and not just what I want for myself. It really felt like my heart was breaking, for a long time.

Despite the grief, I've never regretted my decision. Really, not ever. But that's probably because I know I was obeying God. It reminds me of Luke 11, where that person shouted at Jesus "blessed is the woman who birthed and nursed you!" and he was like "Actually, blessed is the person who obeys God's word" [Michelle's paraphrased version]. Even tho Mary was obviously totally blessed, Jesus reveals that obeying God is a gift he gives to us. In his presence there is fullness of joy. I have received so much joy from my first son.

Wednesday WHAT.

I've been busy with a conference this week, but I came home Monday to find this in the mail:

YOU KNOW WHAT I REQUEST, USCIS?!? I can't tell you because I want to be like Jesus. And he loves you I GUESS

And I promptly had a dramatic moment. You know, an I HATE EVERYTHING IN THE WHOLE WORLD moment, quickly followed by a WHY IS EVERYONE INCOMPETENT moment. And then I tried to actually read the document for comprehension, and had a I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS moment.

Luckily, there are actually some people who know what they're doing, and our home study has been updated to include the mysterious "specific requirements" our home study was missing. I've also emailed USCIS to let them know that we actually live at the address on the front page of our home study, and not in Pennsylvania, as they've concluded from the documents we needed because our Uganda agency is in Pennsylvania. You might think that's confusing, but remember, looking at home studies is this person's ONLY JOB. YOUR ONLY JOB, USCIS GUY. I will forgive you. Well, I'm working on it, okk?

And then after calling both agencies (and leaving voicemails), and then emailing both agencies, and venting just a little bit to Stephen, I was able to reconnect with God's heart and re-trust him with our adoption and the timing of it. I'll talk about that more later on.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

Life zips along. Sometimes it feels so out-of-sync with our adoption. Waiting is weird.

Judah broke an animal cracker with his hand and cried about it being broken -- he's definitely moved from baby to toddler. He loves to sing and has his first favorite book. Ezra's finally really interested in reading (though perhaps not enough to sit down and have a formal lesson. Off to public school you go, kiddo). He builds a lot of robots and machines with his Legos. He's basically obsessed with his dad. And singing so loudly.

A still from a video I can't figure out how to upload of Judah clapping for Ezra's singing. #bros

Stephen is now officially out of his student homegroup (small group). Next week, we'll have our first church plant homegroup meeting. I now officially don't disciple any girl leaders here at A&M. Another few concrete steps toward that big life change.

All of that has happened between beginning our home study update and our dossier being filed.Waiting is weird.

Fundraising Friday... jk Wednesday...

Sorry that it's been so quiet: Judah got sick (roseola; he's fine) and we had our homestudy update on Wednesday, so things have been a little crazy around here. Hopefully I can get back into the swing of things this week.

Here is our updated "thermometer":

It doesn't look exciting enough. Sorry.

Do you know what that means? We only need $1,501 to complete our matching gift! You guys. You guys! That's crazy.

So we're realistically to this point in our total adoption expenses:

74% of all we need to complete our adoption! That's amazing! I've been so overwhelmed at how faithful God and his people have been. It's incredible.

Fundraising Friday

I started this post on Friday, so it counts... says I.

Here's a baby picture to make it up to you.

Drumroll please?

Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat!

You guys. Seriously you guys.

Honestly, I've had a lot of trouble writing this post. Not for lack of encouragement, but because I feel so unworthy of such generosity. I know the resources of the world are at God's disposal, but he uses people -- people I admire so much, people I call dear friends, people I don't even know -- to support us. I keep wanting to add the disclaimer that I'm not a wonderful mom -- I'm an okay mom. I don't think I'm a bad mom. I will work hard to walk in the way of love with all our kids, I just mess up all the time. Please don't forget that as you're being so courageously generous to our family. That's all I ask.

Here's where we are in relation to our total financial needs (a reminder: the $20,000 won't get us to the end of our adoption; we just need it really fast, so other methods of fundraising wouldn't work).

That's 70% of our total adoption expenses, covered. *in awe*

There are things we can do to fundraise this beyond direct financial support -- we're still excited about the Chosen Marathon race, and we're teaming up with Stephen's brother, David, to come up with a sweet t-shirt to sell as a fundraiser. I'll have more specific news as we know it. Right now is pretty focused on finishing our homestudy and getting our dossier ready to go. Love to all, and just so many thanks.

Fundraising Friday / Supplication Sunday

First, the cute:

We got a new (to us) camera. Hi, Ezra!

Next, the crazy:
Because our adoption is now going so quickly, we will probably have the girls home with us by 6 months from now. SO EXCITING! But it means we need the rest of the funds for our adoption very quickly. The way the fee structure works means we will need the vast majority of the fees (agency costs, lawyer costs, etc) by the beginning of October.
And because we've had essentially two failed adoptions (one with the Congo and one with our other agency in Uganda that shut down), we've spent all the money we've raised (about $10,000 y'all!) and ~$14,000 of our own. If it makes you feel more positive, we've spent $13,000 of that in the past 2 months...Does that? It's so much that it's starting to feel like Monopoly money to me. We just don't deal with money in these amounts in our house.
So anyway, we still need ~$24,000 to complete our adoption. We need about $18,000 of that by the beginning of October.

I know it's a lot, Judah, but let's not have a tantrum about it.

Last, the exciting:
First off, we need that money in October because that's when we'll be making our first trip to see our girls and have our court date. So that's exciting, and that's what I'm focusing on as we figure out how to raise that much in basically 6 weeks' time.

Oh, these girls. Worth it. Worth it all.

We just received incredible news from a couple who loves our family: they are doing a matching gift, dollar for dollar, on all gifts we receive, up to ten thousand dollars!!! That means every $5 gift becomes $10, and every $1,000 gift becomes $2,000! You guys. How could we be so blessed?!?

I used to wonder why people would do matching pledge things, like why not just promise to give the whole sum? Until today. They're doing it to challenge others to give. When you think about $20,000, even a large gift like $500 feels like not very much, but the doubling effect makes everything feel bigger, more effective. And their generosity is an aid to me when I'm feeling overwhelmed. They believe that God can call people to help us bring these girls home so we can call them our daughters. So I will too.

Here is the place you can donate. In the "Gift Preference" box, select Adoption Funding. In the "Adoption Gift Preference" box, select Family Specific. Our account number is 3243. All gifts are tax-deductible and there is no administrative fee (beyond the fee the credit card companies take).

Also, would you consider sharing this post? And thanks for reading to the end. Tomorrow I will try to explain clearly why it will be problematic to slow down our adoption timeline. I'll need grace for it, because I don't think I've done that successfully yet. And I've tried. Several times.

Sunday Supplication

You might think this blog is mostly for me to shout my inner thoughts at the world. And yes, that's correct. I'm often worried (probably needlessly) that people will get a better opinion of me than is warranted, likely because I have a better opinion of me than is warranted. ;)

I don't know if I'll keep doing Sunday Supplications every Sunday, but I do think it could be beneficial to be specific in my prayer requests to those who may have a heart to pray for us. There are practical things we need, and there are spiritual things, and there are personal heart things.

For today, I'd love personal prayer for my anxiety. I've been really struggling with anxiety. I told Stephen it feels perfectly warranted from a human perspective -- taking care of our family takes a lot of most of my time and effort, and on top of that I have 14 different documents I need to obtain for our dossier, several of which I have to figure out how, all with differing lengths of time needed, and all needing to be obtained with as little lag as possible. And on top of that I need to raise $20,000.

So yes, I can get really stressed out. I've been having trouble sleeping. I've been having to physically calm myself down because I'm holding tension in all these parts of my body. It's helped that we have all of our homestudy documents complete [thank You, Lord], but we are now "broke" in our adoption account. We have some money set aside, but we need that to buy a vehicle that will hold all our kids. So I need to start raising funds, but I can only juggle so many things in this lil brain of mine without it taking a toll on my personal well-being. I can't do it on my own, but I've been trying.

I need to tune more into what God is saying, instead of just talking rapid-fire at him all the time. Oh my gosh, I AM MY FOUR YEAR OLD. Fine, God, there it is for everyone to see, my realization in real-time. LOL. You sneaky sneakster! Yes, I have been avoiding listening to God because this stage is so scary. I'm really, really scared we're going to lose the girls.

So yeah, lots of anxiety. Pray if you feel led, and thanks.

Fundraising Friday

I realized I neglected to mention in my last fundraising post the expenses we've already incurred. I'll itemize it out when the thought of it doesn't make me feel so tired. Just know it's >$10,000.

Today I want to focus on one really fun way we're fundraising: The Chosen Marathon!

Chosen is a great organization that allows families to fundraise through their marathon, half-marathon, 5k, and even kids' fun run options. There are even "sleepwalker" and "virtual race" options for if you want to support but not race or if you can't make it down to New Braunfels that day. You send in your time in the month of November, and they send you your shirt, bib, and finisher's medal. #swag

This year's race is November 21st in New Braunfels, TX. The race is a Boston qualifier and USATF certified, so it's for serious runners as well as those who want to complete their first race. Plus the route is along the Guadalupe river, so it'll be pretty to look at when you get a muscle cramp have to stop to pee run flawlessly the whole race.

Another amazing thing is, when you register, you select our team, and then you can fundraise for our team if you want to. That way you can multiply your own gift by encouraging others to support you racing! If you're a team-kind-of-person, that might pump you up, but that's not for everyone. No biggie. But if you do like that sort of thing, GO CRAZY!

If you know someone who likes to run, lives near New Braunfels, and / or has a heart for adoption, they can sign up here: http://raceroster.com/events/2015/4188/chosen-marathon and choose Team Muenich Family! But hurryish because the prices go up after August 31st.

If you want to support my 5k race (what am I thinking? Running voluntarily? Who am I?), you can pledge here: https://raceroster.com/events/2015/4188/chosen-marathon/search-pledgees?q=Muenich

If we can rally around this race, we could raise $3,000!

Wednesday Whaaaat?

My Wednesday Whaaat is dedicated to our doctor's office losing the documents we need. So I had to call our homestudy agency to get them, print them out again, put notary wording on them again, make copies again, write out instructions for our doctor again, put them in a packet again, and give them to the office. Again.

I was supposed to hit "schedule" for this and didn't. Here's my whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat for yesterday.

Having Privilege my Daughters Won't

I confess, since we started planning to adopt from Africa almost 4 years ago, I've thought a lot about racism and white privilege in our country. Like A LOT. I think I alternate between trying to find appropriate methods of guiding my children through a reality I don't have to face, trying to figure out how I can fight this war so that my girls will be protected [#saviorcomplex], and obsessing over it in hopes that I will somehow learn enough to feel prepared.

I'm currently raising white sons. White, middle class boys. They and I have the good graces of the world, and I feel it. I feel the wash of approval every time I'm in public with them. People adore my boys. I like to think it's because holy cow they are so cute, but I know their (and my) whiteness really is a factor.

This pic is old, but it's also precious. Also also, they're so white they might be pink.

On Tuesday we were at the grocery store, and one of the store clerks came up & gave me an "instant winner" sticker she found from the game they have here. And it struck me: would she have given this to me if my kids were black? If I was a black mother? I really don't know, and that is one of the saddest things I've ever thought. Not because more horrible things haven't happened (it was a sticker for a game), but because that is a reality that never goes away for some. It may someday be my own daughters who face that.

I can't show you her face, but this is Star's midsection and her gorgeous, gorgeous skin.

I struggle not to rage at the thought. THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE. It is. Raising white sons and black daughters is going to make me more angry than I've ever been. And it will tear my heart apart.

But.

I can prepare both my black daughters and my white sons to recognize, externalize, and appropriately combat racism. I invite you to do the same.

When God doesn't bless your godly decisions

Happy New Year!

Our Christmas break has felt quite full, but a pretty good kind of full - family, preparations to eventually sell our house, and lots of processing for both Stephen and me.

I have been mulling over the title up there for the past week, after a prayer prayed by a family member for another family member. My sister-in-law and brother-in-law-in-law are in the process of becoming licensed foster-to-adopt parents, and received an unexpected bonus that will cover the rest of the costs for their preparations. The family member thanked God for blessing them because their desires are godly.

And it's true, and I'm so glad for them. There's no denying that their hearts are turned toward the fatherless, and they are preparing to love and parent a child (or children) who has undergone trauma and who needs a safe place. It is godly, and God, I'm certain, is pleased with them.

But the lump in my throat wonders about us. Are my desires to adopt not from a godly place? Am I just not ready in some way? in many ways? Do I lack a quality that will make me a good adoptive parent? Is God frustrating our adoption plans because He knows we wouldn't be a safe place for a hurt child?

Before you (well some of you) rush to the comments to leave sweet remarks, it is definitely possible that I am not ready. That it is me that's the hold up in this situation. And I'm trying to be okay with whatever the reason is, even though it really hurts a part of me to see others get to do what I really want to do but have not been allowed to yet. I feel left out, yes, but also a little less than. Maybe a little exposed? Afraid others see me as a phony, and afraid maybe I am a phony and don't realize it. Id God not honoring my desires because they aren't godly? How would I know?

Those are the things I'm pondering, bringing to the Lord, and hoping for answers at some unforeseen point in the road.

Now that it's 2015, and I feel fairly assured in my spirit that I won't get to adopt this year either, I'm trusting God that it can still be a really good year. I have at least enough faith to believe I will look back one year from now and see his goodness pursuing me the whole time.