pull them in close

As I sit on the floor, surrounded by piles of paperwork, notes, bills, and the like, a sweet little boy comes walking towards me. Remote in hand, cheeky smile on his face, innocence and naughty-ness all rolled up into one chunky toddler face with kissable soft cheeks. He comes closer, and I know what he wants; he wants to be held for all of 5 seconds, before running off to the next thing to get in too. Soon his little feet are standing on a pile of paperwork I've worked hard on, and files I don't really want in more of a mess then they already are.

"No, no." I caution as I try to push him back.
Instant concern crosses his face, he did something wrong. He pushes harder to get to me, messing up my mess more.

"Jared, No, no!" I told him. Tears fill his baby blue eyes, and he pushes harder still to get to me. I hadn't yelled at him, I hadn't hurt him, but his little mind didn't know those things. What he knew was that he was scared, that he had done something wrong, and he wanted his Mommy.

I scooped him up, put him on my lap, and within 5 seconds after getting his reassurance that he was safe, that he was loved, he was off, playing with buttons on the TV and getting in to his brothers things.

(What? Not me Mom, I'm as innocent as can be!)

Why I am telling you this story? I realized that often times, it's harder to push our kids away from us, then it is to draw them close. I know, contrary to what we've heard, but hear me out here.

Kids WANT to be loved. Kids WANT to feel safe. Kids WANT Mommy and Daddy to shower their love on them, and to know them. Kids WANT us, their parents.

I think kids are so forgiving for this reason... they don't want to stay mad at us, and never talk to us. Well, they might for a short while, but at least in their young years, they really want us.

Sometimes we create more of a mess, like I was doing with my son when I was pushing him away, when we try to push them away. Unintentionally, I was pushing my son away because I was concerned about my work, about crumpled papers... how often do we do this in life? How often do we push our kids away because we are talking on the phone, because we are checking our facebook, because we are tired, worn out, working, don't know what we're doing, feel like we will mess up, or are in a bad mood? Are we creating a mess in life, and hurting their feelings when we could take just a minute to pull them in, and reassure them that they are safe, that they are loved?

Yes, my son is still running around being a little stinker, as is his nature, while I blog this. The difference from before? Well, it wasn't that hard to move my papers; my mess was my fault, not his. But more so, he keeps coming up to me with the same cheeky smile, with his innocence and naughty nature shining through those glorious glowing cheeks, wanting just one second of attention and love before getting in to his next mess. And I embrace it... and in turn, there has been a lot of giggling this morning, and far less tears!

life

I love to write. I don't get to write as often as I like, and sometimes I feel like I'm not very good at it, but I still like it. I used to blog all the time when I lived overseas, and for awhile when we came home I tried to keep it up, but life happened and this was one of those things that got pushed to the back burner. It wasn't that I never thought of it, or didn't have things that I wanted to write about, but it just never happened... life happened instead.

So here I am... filled with words and emotions, thoughts and ideas, unexpressed for years. I had the opportunity to write this last fall for a friend of mine, and I was excited to start this new journey of story writing. I dug in deep, and tried to experience things the most I could so when I wrote it would come out right. When this opportunity fell through, and not for any bad reason, it was just the way things probably should have been from the beginning, I was left with a bucket load of emotions that had no where to go. Normally they would have been poured into writing, but now, I almost felt like I was choking on them because there was so much there, I had no idea what to do with them.

Now again, I truly believe that this happened for a reason, and it wasn't a bad thing in the end when I look at the big picture. I think going through it, re-lit the fire that had been squelched from the busyness of life, or from the splashed of doubt that came in. I wanted to write. I love writing. I dream of writing. I love imagining, creating, expressing, and painting the world with words and ideas for others to see.

I pray that the 'busy' in life slows down. That stepping back and enjoying the here and the now will be easier. I pray that as our shaken snow globe of a life swirls and whirls around us, we can see the beauty and magic in it from the hand of our creator, and we can appreciate where he ordains the things in our life to land, even if it's not where we wanted it to be. May we forever be in awe of the beauty of his picture, and the stroke of his brush, as he paints this story called life.

words...

If you've ever come to my house, you may find my choice of decorating to be interesting. I like to see new and old come together. I find joy in old things, usually, far more then I find joy in something new. My house is filled with old books, old furniture, trunks, dishes, and the likes. The older it is, the more beauty I see. 

When I was about 9 years old, I remember one of my parents friends coming over with a pickup truck and he was pulling a wagon. The wagon was filled with boxes and boxes of old books. He was taking them off to dump them somewhere, I can't remember, but he told us if we liked anything we could keep it. Even at my young age, I thought the books were fascinating. I looked for the oldest ones. I had no idea what the story of the book was, or if I would ever read it, but I found it to be beautiful, to be a treasure. 

I'm not entirely sure where this love for old things came from. Probably my mom more so then my dad, granted neither of them find an old book to be anything special to this day. My mom would probably say that this old book has some voodoo something or other going on with it, and my dad would say 'you can't even flip the pages without wrecking it,' and then throw it in the trash. 

But me? Holding something old is a gift, a treasure. Do you realize how many hands this has passed through? How many years it has seen? Can you imagine the adventures this thing, whatever it is, has been on? Can you feel the tears that were spilt as you hold this 100 year old bible, or the lessons learned? Can you imagine the old clothes, and few precious belonging that were packed away in this trunk... maybe holding hand sewn quilts, baby clothes, or a wedding dress? Can you imagine the conversations held while drinking coffee on this coffee table, or the family meals held around this dinner table? How about the life of the man who wrote this book 110 years ago? 

Yes, old things, things that might seem worthless, a waste, ugly, useless, I find them beautiful. 

I'm not totally sure where I'm going with this... Maybe it's that I think that people are so quick to just give up on things, and on people, and they choose not to see the beauty. Some people may see a crappy, worn down barn, that has caved in from heavy snow... I see all the stories of kids playing there, animals birthing there, and farmers working hard. I see wood that is aged by sun and weather, that has seen more days then I can imagine... so to take it, to make something new from the ruins, is an honor. For in my home holds not just a picture frame made from a barn, but history, stories, mystery, and memories of lives lived. 

But the same goes for people. Young or old, people are so quick to throw away the broken, the damaged, the aged. Some may see the crippled, the mentally ill, the elderly, the poor, the abused and the broken, and the orphans, and they give them less value, they don't think they are as capable of as much, or shouldn't be fought for as much. 

But the physically handicapped can still move mountains. 

The mentally ill can still feel, can still love, can still experience touch. 

The elderly have not always been as they are. Once they were just as young as you, and they have seen and experienced far more then you could imagine. They still love, they still grieve, they still feel. 

The poor can still laugh, can be rich in spirit, can give beyond measure. 

The abused and the broken did not choose that, nor are they identified in that. They are people with the hearts of man, with a character, with a hope, and a desire. 

The orphans are precious. They have experienced great loss, whether by a parents choice, horrible circumstance, or by a death, still a loss no one should experience. They did not choose it, nor did they want it. Some may see a number, another burden on society, another kid in the system looking for trouble... I see hope. I see love. I see beauty. I see sons. I see daughters. I see children longing to be loved, to be apart of a family. I see kids wanting to give back, wanting to be more then just another number. 

I see them. I see them. I see them. 

Old, worn, used, broken, abandoned... all just words to describe something... what if we changed that? What if instead of old we saw the beauty of life and wisdom, of richness money cannot buy?

What if instead of worn we said well loved and well used.

What if instead of broken, we saw something to be made new?

What if of abandoned we said wanted? 

Do not cast me off in the time of old age;

forsake me not when my strength is spent. 

Psalm 71:9

Journeys

Recently, I've been pondering ones journeys. I find it fascinating how God has something laid out for each of us to go through, based on who we are, and his plan for us. I, by no means, understand why God has certain people walk the path that he does. Why he makes others smoother, and some rougher then you could ever imagine.

I won't lie, I've gotten really mad at God about this before. Sometimes it was in regards to my own life, and sometimes it is the life of a friend, who is struggling through the muck and the miry and it breaks my heart to see them so broken. There have been times when everyone else's lives seem to be going perfect, and I wonder why in the world are they complaining about the dumbest things, don't they know I would kill for that right now?

I have been on my knees in my bedroom, sobbing before God to change things, anything, to just let me come above water to catch my breath as I feel like I am drowning in my own life. I have been on my knees sobbing over what I see a friend or family member go through, because it breaks me to see them in so much pain and I beg God to just smooth out their path... to give them a break... to relieve them of the hurt that they are burdened with.

Why DOES God have us go through certain things?

One of the things that God has, I believe, blessed me with the ability of, is to see who people are meant to be. Not who they ARE, but who they were created to be. I will admit that sometimes I see this so strongly, that I get myself in trouble, and instead of seeing who they are, in the here and now, I see beyond that... and yes, this can create a whole mess of trouble at times when I trust people more then I probably should, or I don't see all the red flags that are flying up in my face.

Am I sounding crazy yet? Yes? Good ;) I like crazy!

Anyway... Can I tell you something? If you want to know how beautifully God created you to be, can I just say, it so SO BEAUTIFUL!

I think that in some way, God has been showing me that because I can see who he created people to be, that I can understand the 'why' in their journeys a bit more. How I'm to help people in that, I'm not entirely sure, as I'm in my own journey of learning, struggles, and hidden blessings... but I hope for God to show me.

Side not: Am I who God created me to be? Sadly, no. I'm far too loud and need to learn to close my mouth at times :D I learned a whole new level of feisty in my struggles, and I think God is now saying 'whoa there! That may be just a tad too much then I intended you to learn... let's have you go through something else to tame that one down.' or maybe 'Um, dear daughter, you be gettin' feisty 'bout the WRONG thing and not 'bout what you supposed to be.' (Yes, in my mind, God be talkin' ghetto sometimes.) Felt like I needed to add this in here, as I am far from perfect, and far from who he created me to be as well!

joy in spite of...

As I sit here this morning, doing my devotions and drinking my coffee, I feel pressed to write this blog. Of what, I am still not sure, as I have so many things stirring in my heart this morning. I have written in the past how I feel as though my life is a shaken snow globe; and while I find it immensely beautiful and captivating, others see a great deal of a mess. I dare say that God has never ordained our life, since the fall in the garden, to be perfect and peaceful. No, I believe that Gods plan is far more great and powerful then what we think would be ideal or, to say the least, far less messy.

One of my favorite sermons that a certain super awesome pastor once preached, was about finding joy in spite of. In spite of whatever is happening, are we choosing to find joy, to find God, in the mess, or are we choosing to reflect only on our sorrows and woes. I often think of this sermon whenever things are going, well, to say the least, less then desirable.

Life is hard. Life flat out sucks sometimes. People tend to revert to our fallen and sinful ways. They aren't as nice as they should be, aren't as supportive as they should be, aren't as gracious as they should be, aren't as sensitive as they should be, aren't as quiet and holding their tongue as they should be. But, it's not all the times. Sure, sometimes it feels that way... sometimes you are sure that the whole world has come against you, and walking out your door to face it sounds far to overwhelming and scary of a thing to do. But when that friend gives you a hug, and they hold just a little tighter and a little longer then normal because they can see, somehow, that deep within your soul, you need it. When that stranger passes by with a smile, and holds the door open for you, your soul lifts just a little bit. When, out of no where, a friend sends you a text message, or calls you, just to see how you are doing, or maybe to say thanks, just for something small you have done, or brings you a cup of coffee after a long day at work, you know that there is joy to be found.

God often reveals joy in spite of, through my children. Baby snuggles, smiles and joy in their eyes of the small and simple discoveries this world has to offer, their tiny small bodies trying to be big, trying to do what Mommy and Daddy do. I love when their creativity comes to life, and even though my world becomes all the more messy (quite literally) as their creativity grows, their is joy in watching them be who God made them to be.

See, and I'm sorry if I'm jumping all over this morning, but our adoption journey is just beginning. I have no idea what this process is going to hold, and what we will have to go through. I know it's not going to be easy, and I know it will be messy. I've already had people question our desire to adopt, or think we are crazy, or tell us that they don't think 'we're ready' to adopt. That's fine, they are entitled to their opinion, and quite honestly, I agree with them.

I do think we are crazy. Well, crazier then before, at least... never been one to be that normal in the first place... ahem. Anyway. It IS crazy to be a young couple, and have 3 young boys, and open our hearts and homes to children from across the world, to call them our own and love them. Those people aren't wrong who say it's crazy, it IS crazy! God has never been one to call people to logical things... or at least, my idea of logical. God didn't tell the Israelites to make boats, or plop a big ship in their path when they fled Egypt. Nope, He was like 'hey, no, that is far too boring of a story, and really? A ship? No, let's literally open up the waters and let them cross, that is much more fun.' And he didn't say 'here, take these logs and bulldozers and knock down the walls of Jericho...' instead he said, 'walk around the city, and although you may look like you are bonkers and no one will have no idea why I'm asking you to do what I'm asking, and do this for seven days, and then I'll let the walls of Jericho fall.'

I mean, really, Gods form of 'logic' is far from my form of 'logic' and, yes, he calls us to do the most 'illogical' things possible at times. But how else would we experience his wonder, his awesomeness, and find such joy in his ways, if things always went 'according to plan?'

As for those who say, 'I don't think you're really ready to adopt,' I must say, I agree. After all, who is ever really 'ready' to adopt. If every couple, or person waited until they were 'ready' to adopt, no child would ever find a forever home. God does not call the well rested. And we are by no means, well rested (hence the reason for coffee on this bright fine morning ;) ). And, I don't believe that orphans were ever 'ready' to be orphaned, to be abandoned, to be alone. So although I wholeheartedly agree that we may never be 'ready' for this crazy journey, I also wholeheartedly know that there are children who are never MORE ready for a family.

My life, yes, is a shaken snow globe that appears messy, with no direct path on where the snow will fall, and which way the wind will take us. But I know that it has been stirred, and shaken with love. For in spite of the mess, in spite of the chaos, there is beauty in the wind. There is beauty in watching our world spin around us, in an array of sparkling flurries, and finding joy and wonder in the places where they land. We know not where things will fall, no more then those who are watching from the outside, and we may not be ready for all of it... but that is what makes it beautiful. We are choosing to look for the joys in spite of. There is joy in the every day, in spite of the hard, in spite of the pain, in spite of whatever is going on, there is joy. May God open our eyes and hearts to forever and always find the joy in the small things he has laid before us.

My morning coffee...