The "Beloved Days" (Lent)

 Ash Wednesday (which was March 5th), signaled the beginning of Lent ( 40-day liturgical period of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving). Historically, the season of Lent lasts from Ash Wednesday to Holy Saturday (The day before Easter) and includes the Paschal Triduum (the three-day period therefore from the evening of Maundy Thursday to the evening of Resurrection Sunday.)^]  Lent is traditionally described as lasting for forty days, in commemoration of the forty days which, according to the Gospels, Jesus spent fasting in the desert, before beginning his public ministry. 

As I use these 40 days to prepare my heart for Easter, I find myself most connecting with the Tagalog language (an Austronesian language spoken as a first language by a quarter of the population of the Philippines) that refers to Lent as "Mahal na Araw" or "Beloved Days". As I purpose to reflect daily on a God who would ransom me with his son, I cannot help but be overwhelmed by such an extravagant love.

March 4th was the 1 year anniversary of my son's adoption being completed. It was not spent celebrating in the way I had imagined, because my precious boy was ill. Instead we spent the evening wrapped in a blanket on the couch until he fell asleep on my chest. It is in these moments as I kiss his head and breath in his sweaty little ringlets that I find myself in a very reflective and prayerful place filled with gratitude to my faithful God- a God that has not left us as orphans.

Ephesians 1:4-8 He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world, that we would be holy and blameless before Him. In love He predestined us to adoption as sons through Jesus Christ to Himself, according to the kind intention of His will, to the praise of the glory of His grace, which He freely bestowed on us in the Beloved. In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of His grace, which He lavished on us.

I pray you also use these next 40 "Beloved Days" (Lent) to reflect on God's love for you.

This song expresses my prayer to God during this time and I hope it ministers to you as it has to me.

What Love is This- Kari Jobe

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kzLRyZMKbb0&hd=1

 Matthew 6:19-21 “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. “But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in or steal; for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tv3E7DhitRU&hd=1

Hope

Had I been Joseph's mother

I'd have prayed

protection from his brothers:

"God keep him safe, 

he is so young

so different from 

the others."

Mercifully she never knew

there would be slavery

and prison too.

Has I been Moses' mother

I'd have wept

to keep my little son;

praying she might forget

the babe drawn from the water

of the Nile,

had I not kept 

him for her

nursing him the while?

Was he not mine

and she

but Pharaoh's daughter?

Had I been Mary

Oh, had I been she

I would have cried 

as never a mother cried,

"....Anything, O God,

anything....

but crucified!"

With such prayers

importunate

my finite wisdom

would assail

Infinite Wisdom

should prevail!

-Ruth Bell Graham

Every night I pray over my tiny boy, much the same way I imagine these mother's prayed for their sons. As I hold his chubby little feet in my hands, smell his sweaty little baby head nestled under my chin, and see his eye lashes resting softly on his cheeks, I am overwhelmed with love for him. So when I think about the heart ache they must have felt when they saw there babies suffering, I can only imagine they must have questioned their God. Had their pain and the suffering of their precious boys been God's best for them?  Why didn't He intervene on their behalf? Why didn't He rescue them?

Had Joseph been rescued from his brothers, thousands would have perished in famine, perhaps even Joseph. Had Moses not been raised in Pharaoh's house, he would have perished and his people would not have been set free from slavery. And had Jesus been saved by God, we would all perish in our sin. God's wisdom is beyond what we can see or understand. While that does not make the pain hurt less or the suffering more tolerable, it does make God trustworthy. 

If your heart is breaking, Beloved hold on! You are not alone. There is no promise from God that we will be rescued, but He does not leave us. Jesus knows first hand how you are feeling, if you are crying out and feeling scared and alone. Jesus has been there. Mark 14:36 "Abba, Father," he cried out, "Everything is possible for you. Please take this cup of suffering away from me. Yet I want your will to be done, not mine." He asked if it is possible that God take his suffering from Him. He also cried out on the cross in Matthew 27:46 "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?"

Christmas is a time to celebrate hope. The hope of heaven (Jesus) and promise of wholeness which was born in pain (Labor) and brought forth in suffering (The Crucifixion).

I Am Raising A Lion!

It has been a long two weeks and many nights I have sobbed myself to sleep in prayer, pleading with God to bring wholeness, in lives of those I love, where there has been only destruction. Thank God, as Shelia Walsh would say, "My God lives close to the floor."  

As I write this post, I have three close friends who are severely broken, due to domestic violence in their "Christian" marriages. I have seen them lain low and humiliated by the ones meant to love them as Christ loved the church. I have held them until they were limp, while their weeping shook me to the core.  And now as they seek safety and healing, I have seen them judged and condemned by their different church bodies. When did the "Church" become an intolerant, disinterested, abuse condoning, non-compassionate, mob of pharisee stone throwers? Oh wait, I forgot, this is what the "Church" has been known for throughout history. 

Mark 2: 17- Jesus said to the pharisees, "It is not those who are healthy who need a physician, but those who are sick; I did not come to call the righteous, but the broken."

There is never a time when abuse of any kind is acceptable or should be condoned for any reason. There is nothing acceptable about crushing another's body or spirit. To all of those who would tell a woman being abused by her husband that God commands her to stay in that marriage and that she just needs to pray harder or be a better wife, I would argue that you and I do not know the same God. 

Isaiah 61 is my life verse, but I believe with all of my heart that it is not just my calling, but God's calling for all those that are called by His Name.

1The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,

because the Lord has anointed me

to proclaim good news to the poor.

He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,

to proclaim freedom for the captives

and release from darkness for the prisoners,^a

2to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor

and the day of vengeance of our God,

to comfort all who mourn,

3and provide for those who grieve in Zion—

to bestow on them a crown of beauty

instead of ashes,

the oil of joy

instead of mourning,

and a garment of praise

instead of a spirit of despair.

They will be called oaks of righteousness,

a planting of the Lord

for the display of his splendor.

4They will rebuild the ancient ruins

and restore the places long devastated;

they will renew the ruined cities

that have been devastated for generations.

For as long as I can remember, people have referred to me as a lioness, because of my deep desire for justice. However instead of that being a compliment it was most frequently spoken in a way that was meant to hurt me or knock me down a peg, and some how teach me to be a lamb or a rabbit. It is only now as I raise my son to be a lion, one who fights for the rights of others and loves fiercely, that I realize that what the enemy meant to harm me, God intended for my good. After all, lambs do not raise lions.

Yup, that is my rough and tumble son "baby wearing" his female baby doll dressed in pink at the park (his choice). And although the older boys and some of the fathers looked at him a little funny, when he pulled his pink baby out and rode down the slide with her on his lap, he smiled the biggest grin and simply ran over to push her in the swing.

Caterpillars, Toads, and Ducks

The end of Summer is typically really hard for me, as I know we here in upstate NY are headed for the cold dark days of Winter. I think I actually mourn the lack of sun. However, with the preparation I have been doing to begin homeschooling the Tiny Human, I have been filled with enthusiasm and have almost failed to see the days growing shorter. Not to mention we have been using every hour of day light, since I have a very busy toddler.

 Even though, Samuel will only be two in October, I have decided to embrace a Montessori type approach to education, so we are beginning a very relaxed but purposeful exploration of the world around us to develop a love for learning and early reading and writing skills. For Sammy at this age, all of his learning takes place through hands on experience, so we will be getting dirty a lot during the Autumn. Deuteronomy 6:7 "Teach your children diligently. Talk to them when you sit in your house and when you walk by the way, when you lie down and when your rise up."

My love of learning began with my mother saying, "It is not how much you know that is important, but whether or not you know how to find out the answers to what you do not know." This is one of my great desires for my son, that he will love to learn and study, especially the Bible, to find answers to his questions. This is why I am digging into the book of Exodus and digesting it bit by bit for what seems like the millionth time. Matthew 7:7 "Keep on asking, and you will receive what you ask for. Keep on seeking, and you will find. Keep on knocking, and the door will be opened to you."

Summer came to a close with a splash, literally. Sammy jumped off a diving board the last Sunday on August, following a baptism service.

He has been able to hold his breath under water for a while now and has recently started to try and swim under water on his own. But his lack of swimming skills could not deter him from the temptation of springing off of the diving board, like the big kids, into my arms. And the thrill of that brief moment when you feel like you are flying was enough to keep him splashing until my arms were heavy and I was too tired to tread water beneath the diving board anymore.

Our garden, I believe, has also given us our final harvest before the snow flies. Gardening has been a good lesson in perseverance for me. Between flooding and the snail plague we encountered, I was tempted more than once to give up, but in the end, all of the healthy produce has been well worth the frustration.

In the same way, Galatians 6:9 reminds us, "Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up." 

I work in a high burn out position, with mentally ill patients who are in Crisis. It can become exhausting. However, I try to remember that my labor is not in vain, and that showing my patients love and dignity is showing them Jesus and I pray that some day they will produce fruit.

This week with the start of school, we are studying the letter A and apples, as well as the life cycle of the Monarch butterfly. What this means more simply is that my dining room table is covered in bug jars that my son watches at breakfast lunch and dinner and lays hands on when we hold hand and pray for meals...which I find hilarious.

It also means we have a conversation about gentleness several time each day, so that my son does not squash the poor critters with his chubby little fingers. We have been collecting different caterpillars all week, one we know will turn into a Monarch, and the rest we will have to wait and see.






Hunting for caterpillars on nature walks, while feed giant fish, and picking up every bird feather we see has been a real joy.  Not to mention crawling under low pine trees and running through wide open fields.






Studying the letter A and apples has been a lot of fun too. In addition to picking apples off our back yard trees and eating them on the spot, we have taken them to riding lessons to feed the horses, and we spent a day at the Cider Mill, which included apple fun, duck feeding, and miniature tractor riding.

 Oh and the close of our week, perhaps my son's greatest joy was finding and holding a toad in our friend's yard. Little boys are a wonderful blessing. And God continues to show me more of himself through my son every day.

Camping with a toddler should be recognized as an Olympic sport!!!

We just got back from the Rhode Island Shore. However, instead of the relaxing beach holiday I had imagined, I found myself frequently overwhelmed and exhausted by my over energized toddler, who now shouts “No” at the top of his lungs when he finds any situation even mildly disagreeable. Additionally, I chose to camp in RI the weekend a hurricane was coming down the coast. Camping in the rain with adults is hard enough, but with a toddler, it is a form of torture.

My tiny human is under the impression that running is the only way to get anywhere and that holding my hand is an unnecessary restraint that only slows him down. Additionally, he believes that wrestling and pouncing on Mommy is a must when sleeping in a tent on an air mattress. And pausing any longer than five minutes to eat is a waste of precious day light, which should be spent chasing after some unsuspecting dog on a leash or hopping to catch a bird before it takes flight.

Were it not for the fact that I had already paid for 5 days of accommodation and it was non-refundable, I might have wimped out and come home, but I was determined to find some redeemable memorable experience to be gleaned and add to my son’s baby book.

Despite the fact that I was severely disappointed by a filthy city and an unusable rain drenched beach, and a shower which required quarters, like some sort of supermarket toddler ride, I was desperately trying to convince every molecule of my body to be make the most of every moment. I knew my Tiny Human had nothing to compare it to and would think it a great adventure, if I made it one.

On our way into Providence our first night (which I had hoped would be a less expensive Boston or what I had dubbed a “Poor man’s Boston”), we passed numerous churches all with signs giving their service times. One of my favorite things to do when traveling is find a local body of believers and worship with them. I look forward to and even crave it, so my friend Maria was curious as to which church I had picked for us. 

As we passed by perhaps our fifth church there was a large white sign next to it, which read, “Septic Service.” My friend looked at me with a confused look and said, “I wonder what kind of a service a “septic service” is?” Of course, being the granddaughter of a well driller I immediately busted out laughing and explained to her that the sign she just read did not go with the church, but the business next to it. However, I could not help thinking to myself how effective church services would be if we saw them as a “Septic Service,”…an opportunity to rid our self of our filth, be made clean, and fellowship with our Savior (The Well Driller), the one who promises that all who come to him shall never thirst again.

Finally around 10 PM, after travelling all day, we located a place to have dinner. A small casual Italian old world oven baked pizza shop. Maria, Samuel, and I happily engorged our self on the most delicious pizza made with goat cheese, pureed zucchini and some kind of edible flower. It was delicious and I was pleased that there was no cow’s milk used to make the pizza, since we have learned that my son is very allergic to the protein in cow’s milk. 

We left the shop and strolled along the city’s waterway.  When we were nearly to our car, Sammy grabbed his tummy and made a little whimper. Too late I realized that he had had diarrhea and it was leaking out his diaper, down his leg, and all over my blouse.  Could this day get any worse I wondered? Knowing we would have no laundry facilities for the next 5 days, I stripped my son of his clothing and changed his diaper on a park bench. Then, I tossed the clothing into a near bye garbage can. 

It is the part that came next that nearly had my friend in tears laughing as she ran for the car. Becoming completely grossed out by the diarrhea on my shirt, right there on Main Street, I tossed it also into the can. I figured my bra, ugly though it was, was not revealing any more to the poor unsuspecting passer byes, than a bikini would. However, as my friend pointed out, I have never worn a bikini.

On day two, we headed to the Zoo, despite the clouds looming over head and the clear threat of rain. The Zoo was in the middle of the worst part of the city, hidden behind huge trees, tall grass, and an enormous rusting black metal fence. If you did not know it was there, you would not have found it. Despite its initial appearance I hoped it would be like some sort of a secret garden. I hopped that hidden behind the over growth and a creaky gate we would discover a magical world like the secret garden.

One of my son’s first encounters was with the Crown Crane, more specifically known to Maria and I, from previous African safaris, as “The National Bird of Uganda.” The Crane was extremely interactive and curious. It would follow Sammy’s chubby little hand back and forth across the enclosure and cock its head from side to side inquisitively making my tiny human giggle.

 Our next great find was the Giraffe enclosure, where one giraffe proceeded to eat his breakfast over my son’s head, causing leafs and grains to fall like rain over us. Samuel thought this was great and tried to sign to the giraffe more, so he would keep doing it. Though I am pretty sure the giraffe did not understand sign language, he was happy to oblige my little squealer.

The animal enclosure that I enjoyed the most was the giant tank that contained three seals from Maine. They were very playful and happy to entertain their wide eyed on lookers. My son as well as other people's small children watched with there noses pressed tight to the glass. Every time they would dance and spin, Sammy would clap wildly. I wonder if the seals were under the impression that they were actually at the Zoo to see us, instead of the other way around.

However, the Zoo was not our only great adventure. Despite the looming clouds and wind, we headed to the beach on day three. It did not matter to Sammy that the water was freezing and the air barely warmer, he dashed into the water, pulling me behind. His sweat pants and diaper instantly full of salt water, making him several pounds heavier. We would run into the waves and then turn around and try to race them back to the sandy beach.  Swinging him through the air and into the dashing waves, he would shout, “Again Mama, again!”  

The fourth and best day, we went whale watching. A funny choice, I now realize, for a girl that gets severe motion sickness and an extremely active toddler.  We started the day with a seaside breakfast, pancakes, which Sammy ate with his dump truck.

Then we boarded Arthur, our whale watching boat. Samuel stood on his seat, way too excited to sit, between my friend Maria and I on the way out and would nestle into my chest every time we hit a big wave. He watched with wide eyes as a pod of 20 or so dolphins played alongside the boat and would periodically clap wildly.

Then just as three, 62 foot fin whales began to emerge from the deep, he conked out in the front pack, so Maria and I watched and waited for each new whale citing with all the other excited tourists from numerous countries, while Sammy snored on my chest covered by Maria’s fishing hat.

On the way back Sammy woke himself up with his congested snoring and was ready to leave the front pack behind and toddle around the boat deck with my friend. As motion sickness had finally gotten the better of me and I was starting to look a little green, I stayed put with my head on the cabin table. We disembarked feeling really blessed to have seen God’s amazing creation…and I was also happy that my little head was no longer swimming and my tummy was staying put.

We three drove back to NY, my son sleeping most of the way and Maria reading me short stories written by travelers with a sense of humor like none other. We laughed most of the way home, Maria to the point of tears.

Experiencing life through the eyes of my Tiny Human is perhaps one of God’s greatest gifts to me, it helps me find joy in every moment just as he does. And holding his exhausted little body at the end of the day, helps me forget the trials of the day and remember his fat little feet will only fit in my hand for a short time.

You are Beautiful, you are Sacred, you are His!

Dreams now dimmed by a lapse in judgement
The baby growing inside her a gift meant for a later season
Her paintings set aside with her childhood
Paintbrushes laid down to take up adult responsibilities
And the heavens weep



The streets where I live are being walked by young girls pushing strollers even into the night. Their own childhoods cut short to raise children of their own. No education, no money, no hope, just brokenness. They have surrendered their dreams too willingly without understanding the cost. Their parents, the church, and the community have failed to teach them that they are made for so much more.

Mercy Me- You are beautiful, you are sacred, you are His!

"No hitting!"

Pretty much at some point everyday, I have to tell my son, "No hitting" and "No throwing toys." Some people have told me, "Don't worry, it is a stage." Other people have told me, "It is just a boy thing, don't be so hard on him." While I know both of these things are said with the best intentions, I refuse to except either of them. While I expect to have to tell my son the same thing over and over at this stage in his life, I will not stop discouraging his harmful behavior on account of he is a "boy".

I love the fact that I am raising a little boy and that he is wild and loves to get dirty and would rather run than walk. I love that he wants to wrestle like a bear cub all of the time and that toys have no value in his mind unless they are a drum, a ball, or a car. However, I also love that he is learning to have compassion and show gentleness. I love that he pets ducklings with his little pointer finger and uses underwear to carry his doll on his back.

Even at 19 months my son understands that hitting is wrong. He would just sometimes prefer to use it as a way to express himself, because it is a quicker easier way of getting his point across. Using the few words he has at this age to express sadness and anger takes a lot of effort.  However, communicating even for adults can be difficult, and takes effort.

Being a boy is not a reason to be aggressive. Perhaps if more boys were taught to be lovers rather than aggressors, then 1 in 4 women would not be victims of abuse during the course of their life. These statistics make me really angry, especially as some of these statistics have names and faces for me.

Even as I write this post, I know of two women in physically abusive relationships and a third woman who just left her abuser. All of these women's abusers are supposedly Christians. How can this be? As with divorce, domestic violence is not any less common in the church. This a very sad and unfortunate truth, but what is worse is that some church members and leaders excuse and even condone it by their silence or try re-label abuse by calling it an anger management issue or a hard time the couple is working through.

Can I just say out loud, "No Hitting!" Real love cannot exist in the presence of abuse any more than darkness can exist in the presence of light.

Philippians 4:5- Let your gentleness be evident to all. Note: This statement was not preceded by the word women. Gentleness is a fruit of the Spirit and is intended for both men and women.

The fruits of the Spirit should be evident in all believers. Galatians 5:22-23-But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.

I pray that the gentle correction/parenting of my toddler will help him maintain a tender heart into adulthood and yield a man that does not see gentleness and self control as traits only for women, but as characteristics of his Lord that should be mimicked.