viva la woodchip.

I did it. I went camping. This INDOOR girl spent four days – FOUR days – in the OUTDOOR world. For the first time. With two children. Without their daddy. And we survived. Amen.

So…a few reflections:

DO camp with another mom who is an expert at camping because she owns basic camping necessities like a grill and a griddle and a real tablecloth with clips that hold it down to the table and special toilet paper and a wine bottle opener and an overall state of calm and confidence.

DO camp with another mom who has children near the same mental and emotional and physical ability that your own children have. Because if you do, you will both be managing similar meltdowns and quarrels and conflicts and whining for that $1 toy gem at the camp store. And, you’ll both observe how good it is, in this culture, to remove your children from rectangles and watch the sun kiss their skin and smile at all the humorous things they do and say. And, most importantly, all of the children will go to bed all at the same time.

DO search until you find a camper that meets your basic physical and mental needs – like a queen size bed and bunk beds and bathroom and kitchen sink and microwave (just to name a few). Your internal well-being relies on this. Trust me. (Yes, someone somewhere makes these types of lovely campers!)

DO ask for a camp site that is next to the playground, across from the bathrooms/showers, a skip and a hop away from the pool, and that has an eye-sight view of the massive trampoline pillow where the children will expend much of their 12+ hour energy. (I’m assuming that ALL campgrounds would have these parent necessities.)

DO choose the PERFECT weather week – like mid 70s/low 80s. Because this could make or break your camping experience.

DO choose the week when most of the bugs and mosquitos that surely swarm around every camp site fly away to visit another campground or your friends’ homes. This, too, could make or break your camping experience.

DO pack tons of liquids and snack foods because you and your children’s bodies will constantly feel the need to ingest more than it normally requires. And, most importantly, bring Coke and M&Ms. And, bring ingredients for summer recipes like fresh BBQ Chicken Salad and Limonada de Coco, because it will help you feel special. It will remind you that you really are on a “vacation.” But, do make these when all the children are running around the campground making new friends and spinning around on the merry-go-round, so that you can eat in peace, so that your taste buds can savor every delicious bite, so that you are able to feel each little lime-y coconut-y slushy piece of ice slide down your throat.

DO bring lots of firewood, because making a fire each night is a MUST in the world of camping (along with s’mores). And then, after the children are nestled in and then out like a light because they’ve jumped and ran and biked and swam hard all day, pull up your new, red Costco camping chair beside your friend’s chair, stare into the fire, and start talking – about things that matter, about things that don’t. Talk and laugh and be silly and serious until midnight. Or 1 o’clock. Or 2 o’clock. Because in those 3-5 hours, you can cover A TON – like friends and family and in-laws and parenting and your story and decorating and finances and how life is so very wonderful and so very hard and how important it is to be gracious truth-tellers and what it’s like to feel like you’re “too much” and bucket lists and what you’re learning and how you’re failing and how you hope your children will grow to be lovers and doers of good and how to offer yourself as a wife whose husband knows she loves him and is grateful for him and how the people camping next to you talk really, really loud. Basically, you can solve most of the world’s problems in those night hours. So…

DO have your first camping experience with a friend who is fun and neat and organized and flexible and experienced and silly and honest and open…to all that life has to offer. And, who will invite you into an experience that will give you perspective of the OUTSIDE world and perspective on all the things you unknowingly take for granted about your INSIDE world. And, who will post funny pictures on Instagram and tag you as you sit 1 foot away from her. And then laugh about it. And, who will partner with you in an experience that reminds you that you’re capable – of doing new things and hard things and unlikely things…for yourself, for your children, WITH your children. And, who will play her radio ALL day on a station that has ALL the songs you know, so that at any moment you can raise your thumb to your mouth and break out singing and dancing and partying, like it’s 1999.

And then, pack up, go home, wash everything really good and know…that at the end of the day, it’s OK to say, you’re a hotel girl. Hands down.

#VivaLaWoodchip

 

perfect pictures.

NOTE: a bit late, but you know how life goes.

We love seeing them. We hate seeing them. We think all sorts of thoughts when our eyes fall upon those perfect family/kid/selfie pictures swirling around on Facebook, on Instagram, on Twitter, on Christmas cards. What is it about all those pictures I post (I mean others post) that makes people’s minds turn from the story and life behind the eyes to the judgment of the intent?

I get it. I really do. It’s so easy to impose meaning and messages behind what we see over social media – pictures of people’s kids and in-laws and food and double dates and guys/girls nights and vacations and pets. I think most of us love the “real” pictures – the ones that help us believe that our “friend” or “follower” is just as normal and human as we are, our life is. We have a responsibility to discern if/what/how/when to post pictures – ones that tell true stories rather than give a false identity or appearance. And then take note of how our brains are interpreting them.

We see SO much.

So here’s my sidetrack thought for today…

First, a confession: I totally blow up people’s phones on IG and I totally hold back on how many pictures I post on FB. In fact, I don’t even have my IG settings set to automatically post my pictures on FB. Why? Because I don’t want people criticizing my love and gratitude and celebration and momentous moments with my kids (or my life). I don’t fear criticism of my pictures, I fear the criticism, by adults, of me, my intent of why I post each picture. The thing is, I hear women all the time saying nasty things about other people’s pictures on IG and FB. It’s so easy to be critical of how much and what kind of pictures are posted. And each time I hear a negative comment I think, “But what if there’s more behind why that person posted that picture?” Because actually, I may be that person.

Here’s what I know…There are lots and lots and lots of parents whose lives are spent managing really, really hard stuff with their kids – tantrums and meltdowns and dis-regulated emotions, shame and blame and self-harm. They’re engaging in “investment parenting techniques” (thanks ETC!) which takes tons of time and lots of grace. They’re trying to move their kids to brush their teeth and hair and eat and get dressed without them falling apart, and in fact, they’re trying themselves to not fall apart! There are lots of moms (or spouses) who stay at home with the laundry and dishes and toys and school work and stove – with the mundane. And, there are lots of moms (and spouses) who go to work everyday who aren’t with their kids, and still come home to all of the above. And, I’m finding there are lots of stay-at-home parents who are struggling to find their identity and calling (outside of being a parent) now that their children are in school (or out of the house). And yes, we know, that there are lots of people who are just plain bored and dissatisfied and jealous and use social media sites in really unhelpful ways.

We all have a lot going on.

When you’re in the season of growing and cultivating “family,” it’s so, so easy to forget the tenderness and vulnerability and fragility and goodness behind your children’s eyes, deep in their souls. We get weary. We get discontent. We get frustrated. We get busy. We crave anything that reminds us that we’re breathing and beautiful and that our life has a purpose beyond taking care of other people’s needs. And so maybe, just maybe, when we post a sweet or silly or amazing or entertaining picture of our kids, it’s because we need to visually be reminded of why we give…our hours and intention and body and money and emotion, and maybe even our mental health – ahhh! And maybe, for one moment, we catch a picture of our child’s true self, the child that we believe in and love with all our heart – the brave and precious and focused and listening and joyful parts – that maybe don’t show up as often as we would hope, or as often as our friend’s or sister-in-law’s child does. And for a split-second, or 15 minutes, we can breathe because the fear and shame and anger and guilt and “I don’t know if I can make it through this day” subsides.

We see him. We see her. We see what’s happening…

…and it’s a defining moment in the day. And it makes us smile. Gratitude swells, perspective returns, the re-set button gets pushed. And we move forward. Again…and again…and again.

Maybe all these pictures people post help remind them of the story they’re in, but also of the bigger story – that the loneliness and longing and really hard days – the ashes – can be and are being transformed into beauty…in their our children, in them us, one snap shot at a time. And I think we would all agree that the more glimpses of what’s true and beautiful and good in this world we can get, we need to take. Amen?

There’s always a story behind what we see with our eyes – at church, at the grocery store, at school, at Christmas parties, on platforms. No family or couple or parent or child – or day – is perfect. Right? So, let’s not even go there with our minds. Let’s remember that every family is experiencing their own challenges. They all wake up with bad breath, bed heads and clothes they would never dare wear in public. Every home is rupturing just as much as it’s finding its own way to repairing and reconciling. Maybe we could try to halt our evaluation and criticism and jealousy, and instead, celebrate what lies behind the eyes and smiles and smirks and poses of those pictures – pure goodness, pure “life” – and then celebrate it…that family, their story.

So keep posting, people! Mark your significant moments and days and people with photos. Let’s cheer each other on. Let’s celebrate the “life” in one another’s homes. We need one another in the outrageously grand moments of life just as much as we need one another in the most boring and hard, soul-sucking moments.

NOTE 1: Please, please, please, don’t ever, ever, ever replace your human relationships with social media relationships. (Someday I would love to write a post about this!)

NOTE 2: There might be some unwritten rule about over-posting, but don’t send it to me – ha!

So here’s a slide show of our “perfect” pictures from 2013. A few years ago we started the tradition of making a slide show to send to our friends and family instead of a Christmas card. Nothing against Christmas cards, but in hopes that they would see and sense the story building in our family, behind our eyes. But know that behind all the fun and joy and activity you see in these pictures, there is also the reality of our bad breath and scraggly hair and piles of toys and dishes and laundry and dirt behind toilets and numbing out with rectangles and multiple mornings when we groan for our children to sleep through the night, and…a longing and desperation for more healing and hope.

But, here we are, another normal breathing family, sitting in the reality that both brokenness and beauty exists, together. And that’s a good thing. We wouldn’t be human if we didn’t have one without the other.

May this year bring you a refreshed sense of self, a new perspective of others, a deeper love for God, and a growing belief of his deep love for you.

Happy, happy new year!

Love, The Woodwyk Family

Woodwyk 2013 Year in Review Slideshow (plays better on computer than phone and you should hear music).

 

unexpected moments.

Sometimes we get to plan out what’s going to happen. Sometimes we don’t.

Sometimes we know what’s coming. Sometimes we don’t.

Sometimes we’re confident that what’s about to happen is going to be exciting and wonderful and grand.

And, sometimes, we know that what’s coming is going to be hard and gruesome and painful.

Yet, I don’t think we could ever know or anticipate how these experiences are going to change us.

In the past few years, I’ve had these amazing and life-giving opportunities to speak around the country. I’m blown away at how I’ve been invited to offer my voice, my story, my heart. Each time I’ve felt so honored, so humbled, so overwhelmed by the openness of others to listen to my voice. Each experience has proven to be powerful and transformative for me in profound and surprising ways. Beyond grateful.

And then, last summer, the day after Father’s Day, I was asked to “speak” at a different kind of event. It was something I had never been asked to do before, something that felt even more honoring, more humbling, and actually, more scary.

One of my best friends asked me to read a letter at her father’s funeral.

Let me back up a few years. Well, maybe like 20+ years…

Renee and I have been friends since high school, and we were roommates for about three years before I got married. We’ve had countless talks over shopping excursions and car rides and pasta and chips and salsa and morning cleaning and “smokey treats” on the deck and way too many late nights. Renee is someone who shares the value of being honest and open and reflective and imaginative and silly. She’s a learner. She’s a listener. She’s sensitive. She’s kind. So, as you probably can imagine, the spectrum of our conversations were wide. I remember so many of our crazy and stupid and lazy moments filled with jokes and laughter and music and SNL replays. But, mostly, what I remember are the moments that were filled with sharing what it was like to be a part of the “real” world…what it was like to be a daughter, a sister, an employee, a person with privilege, a person of color, what it was like to feel betrayed and forgotten and misused, dreaming of all the ways we wanted to find love and what that would look like and who that would be with and what kind of wives we would be, and what it would be like to become a mother and what we would name our kids and who they would look like, and all the ways we wanted to parent similarly to our own parents while giving ourselves permission to do things differently, what it felt like to have our heart sink and soar, long for and hope and trust, and how we were always going to fight for what’s good and true, in us, in others.

So many moments, so many hours, so many days…sharing what it was like to be human.

Our stories were being made, being shaped, being shared. And, they still are.

I loved that then. I love that now.

And so, when she asked me to read the letter she wrote for her father’s funeral service, how in the world could I say “No” to honoring a friend like that, honoring the man who she called, “Dad”?

So, yes…honoring, humbling, scary.

Honoring because these were the words from her heart, from her memory, scattered on paper, capturing who he was as a father, as a friend, as a man. These were the words that she wanted the people in his life to remember, about him, about his life, about the way he stepped into his world.

Humbling because I was asked to do this because my friend trusted my heart for her, and had entrusted her heart to me. Essentially, I was going to represent her story, her heart.

Scary because, well, let’s face it, there were going to be hundreds of people in that church whose hearts were going to be a bit more raw that evening, whose emotions were going to be a bit more surfaced sitting in those pews. And, because when you say, “Yes” to something like this, you risk having your own heart be publicly put on display…in a microphone. And, because the emotions captured in my friend’s letter were piercing the emotions in my own soul reminding me of the loss of my mom.

Yes…honoring, humbling, scary.

I practiced and read and practiced and cried and practiced and cried some more.

And then it was time.

The funeral was an evening funeral which was lovely and beautiful and meaningful. The mood was somber, yet celebratory. There were tears and laughter and music and prayers. The service was filled with friends telling stories, friends remembering their friend. It was a gift to be a part of this group of people remembering and celebrating and affirming this man’s life.

I’m so glad she asked. I’m so glad I said, “Yes.”

Because in that moment, I was able to experience one of the most profound invitations to “speak,” to use my words, to offer my voice.

Unforgettable. Powerful. Transformative.

Sometimes, we get these unexpected moments that help us put all other moments in perspective.

May you allow yourself to be surprised by the moments you get invited into today, this week, this Father’s Day…and may they forever change you.

Our kids…20+ years later.

children of light.

Thrilled to introduce you to Jen Wise, a woman who’s voice invites me to lean into more of our Creator through story and food and reflection and beauty. I have the privilege of being a part of an amazing team of writers for Restoration Living, of which she is the wise and inspiring gatekeeper that pulls us together, keeps us in line, rallies our voices (aka Managing Editor). So, after a year-and-a-half of writing for her, I thought it was time to ask her to write for me – so I could share her voice with my little world, and her passion for people and wholeness and truth and living life to the full. So, what better topic than parenting as we approach summer and the shift that happens when the kids come home…to us, to our care. I know you’ll be moved and challenged and empowered to offer your best self, your whole self…to your children.

“Sir, are you really calling the police because there is a squirrel with a long tooth in your yard?” – Police Department to my husband.

In his defense, he had to call. It was Saturday morning and we were wrapping up a leisurely waffle breakfast when I noticed a new squirrel in our backyard. This little guy stood out because he was eating his waffle (don’t judge – it’s their weekend too, you know!) on the right side of his mouth. Sticking out of the left side was a gigantic tooth that looped up and around, rubbing the fur off his face. A quick Google search told me that this squirrel was not going to survive unless someone caught it, sedated it, and trimmed that crazy tooth. I knew we needed to get help – call animal control – this is an emergency!

My husband didn’t share my concern.

That’s when the tears started. First me. Then the kids. Then he caved.

As it turns out, the Police had absorbed Animal Control due to budget cuts. To say they weren’t concerned would be an understatement. We were to “let the squirrel take its natural course”.

This, obviously, led to more tears.

I know what you’re thinking: It’s a squirrel, toughen up, this is life. And you’re right – this is life. And that’s why I cried. Hard.

SPROUTING

There is something heart wrenching about watching your children stumble upon the realities of our world. Sometimes bad things will happen. Sometimes there’s nothing we can do. Sometimes (many times) other people aren’t going to care about what you care about.

So yes, I cried about a squirrel… but really it’s so much more than the squirrel. It’s grieving what’s broken in the world. It’s grieving that this world is broken at all. It’s grieving that my young idealistic children are slowly making this realization.

And don’t most of us go through this ourselves? As our lives sprout we believe that if we’re good, the world around us will cooperate. We believe that if we’re kind, others will respond likewise. We believe that if we do the right thing we will be safe and successful and life will play out the way we believe it should.

By the time we have roots and branches we’ve seen and felt enough to know better.

EYES OPEN

An introduction to brokenness comes as a tidal wave for some: sexual abuse, chronic sickness, natural disasters, or the death of a parent. I cannot even pretend to understand the profound impact these events have on a young heart. For most of us though, our realization is more of a trickle. Throughout our days we encounter moments that highlight the truths we’d rather have kept in the dark.

Our family has walked through many of these ‘enlightening’ moments over the last few years, necessitating some difficult and sometimes painful conversations. Some of these include being hurt by friends, the disparity of wealth in our community, and the death of a family member. Beyond that, the extinction of dinosaurs, where meat comes from (and what makes it more or less ethical to purchase), the marketing and selling of things that are bad for us, and the sickening reality that some people just want to hurt kids.

The thing is, no matter how much I want to tell my boys that the world is whole – no matter how much I want to shield them from knowing that it’s not – I can’t. And I shouldn’t.

We keep media to a pretty innocent level in our home – there are certain topics we generally steer away from – and we don’t alert them to every tragedy that crosses our headlines. Still, we don’t lie to them. We do let them know, on their level, what disappointments and dangers loom. We are open about the brokenness that they are sure to bump up against.

UNSHAKEN

Rather than a reactive stance of explaining-away or putting a rosy spin on everything, we take a proactive stance of preparing our children for what they will inevitably discover. We take opportunities now, while they’re young and under our care, to get their toes wet. We let them experience a bit of unfairness. We encourage them to take risks with new opportunities and face fears out of their comfort zone. We resist the (very strong) urge to protect them from every feeling of discomfort or pain.

Help them face fears and hold up against disillusionment now while they have the luxury of your support. They’ll be better equipped to remain grounded in the years to come.

And this goes for us as well. Step into that new social scene – take on that project that’s a little intimidating – volunteer in a place you’d rather pretend doesn’t exist. It’s good for us, it’s also good for our kids to observe us stepping forward, taking risks, opening our eyes, facing fears and coming out the other side.

FORWARD, UPWARD

Ultimately, the key to coming out the other side well, as children and as adults, is a deep understanding of identity and purpose. When we know who we are and the value we hold – when we know why we’re here and the role we play in all of this – we’re less likely to be thrown for a loop when the landscape shifts.

There are so many opportunities to help your children understand their identity, for us these moments are some of the strongest. Upon every hard realization, every burden, every tear, we have a chance to invite our children to walk with us – a chance to remind them that this is why we’re here, this is what this is all about. We’re binding wounds, working for wholeness, bearing light, and loving this world.

This points them forward, upward. It helps them, and us, have a grounding that is not dependent on a pain-free sheltered life. It turns those moments from despair and disillusionment to moments that propel us forward, stepping more fully into who we are, stepping more confidently into our role as healers.

Our family has an identity, we know who we are, we know our role in the world – the darkness does not change that. The bad things that we see from our path, that cross our path, and that sometimes will explode on our path do not change who we are, what we are called to, and what we are working towards.

When this is rooted in our souls – we aren’t easily shaken.

May we embrace who we are and our role in this world. May we walk confidently forward with eyes wide open to see the brokenness around us and where we can extend healing. And may we, with grace and strength, invite our children into the process of restoring their world as well.

Jen is a compassionate theologian, obsessive foodie, constant hostess and voracious reader. She attended Cornerstone University and Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary earning a MA in Theology. Jen is the managing editor of Restoration Living. She lives with her husband and their two sons in Philadelphia. Catch up with her on twitter @jenlwise.

a grandma…in waiting.

Let me introduce you to Linda Lyzenga. She’s a friend, a mentor, a kindred spirit. I love the courage she possesses…to find more of herself, more of others, more of God. This is such a sweet post. I love that she is allowing the process of becoming a grandma to call out her deep heart, the best parts of who she is. Grateful for how she is choosing to step into her role, now AND when the baby comes, with grace and understanding and intention and acceptance. What a gift she will be to this baby. I’m confident that she will be a grandma who delights in her, nurtures her, reminds her of how good she is…even if it is from afar.

Congratulations are in order! I’m going to be a grandma. Every where I go these days I see young moms with babies and I want to peek at each little one and then share the good news – I’m going to be a grandma. I am the expectant one. Anticipation is high. They’re going to have a baby girl in April. I can hardly wait; other grandmas that I know say there’s nothing like it. Oh, just wait, they say. Lucky you! First one? You’re going to love it!! *Sigh* Did I say that I’m going to be a grandma? Congratulate me!

Now tell me how to navigate being a long distance grandma. I don’t want to be a long distance grandma. I don’t want to be thought of as the grandma who lives far away. I want to be a grandma that’s available at the drop of a hat. I want to take care of baby girl when her mommy has to go back to work. I want to be there for all those monumental firsts. I want to experience… I want… I want… Oh, I sound like a two-year-old. There are moments some day’s of an almost desperate sense of separation – of longing, loss and loneliness.

Most days I’m fine. It’s not like they moved away yesterday. It’s over ten years ago that younger daughter left home for her great adventure. Off she went – leaving all that was familiar here in Western Michigan to go to a university in Southern California. I thought she’d be back. But then, she got the job; and then, she met the guy. They’ve been married over five years now.

When her sister flew the coup to make a fresh start in Northern Florida, I was left decidedly as an empty nester. I couldn’t be more proud of both my girls. I’m truly happy for the life that is theirs. My girls are not coming home. They both live far, far away. People often say, “That must be hard.” Some days I must admit – it IS hard. Most days, though, there is a special grace that soothes my heart. On any given day when I miss them, I think of how we’ve been able to keep in touch. In fact, is it possible that we’re closer now than we ever were? When the geographical distance seems too great, I imagine how it was when children from past generations left home – never to be seen again after having moved to places far and away. Long distance telephone calls were reserved for strict emergencies. Other communication was relegated to snail mail – a delivery of old news. Today there’s ease in communication with free minutes and cell phones. Email. Facebook. Skype. Packages sent UPS. Special little notes sent in the mail. We’ve had a really good track record of cross country trips and have found a good rhythm of making it work. For this I’m beyond grateful!

But now that I’m going to be a grandma something has shifted in my perspective. Self compassion and self awareness invite me to process why I’m feeling deprived and despairing when this grandchild hasn’t even arrived on the scene yet.

What’s going on?

It’s the anticipated face to face moments that I’ll miss out on. The hoped for shared experiences that simply will not be. Precious memories with that teeny tiny new born seem to be waiting in some kind of vacuum.

More than that, I realize that it’s the fear of not being known – of being missed.

With this realization distilled and clarified, I realize that I have a choice. I can choose to view this new relationship from a vacant place of distance and scarcity of intimate face to face time. Or, I can choose to step into my new role from a place of abundance and gratitude.

With generosity and creativity I can be known as a loving grandma – fully present; engaging – even from a distance – with intention and creativity.

Celebrate with me – I’m going to be a grandma!

Linda is passionate about wholeness and healing and finds her sweet spot in the role of Spiritual Director. Married with two adult daughters, who have flown the coup – far from Western Michigan where they grew up, she’s home alone with her husband of 39 years. Though a life long learner, Linda never had opportunity to go to college until recently and is now working on getting her Associate Degree with hopes to finish it before her husband retires next year and they take off – visiting their kids and exploring the country in their RV. Meanwhile, she enjoys yoga, baking, reading, writing, and hiking. You can know more about Linda through her blog.

remembering. celebrating. anticipating.

Ahhhh! 2013 has arrived. I’m so eager to see what this year will bring, yet I’m still reflecting on what 2012 brought…

I met some really amazing people this past year who brought new perspective and insight and creativity and beauty to how I view people, the world, God. I felt enriched and strengthened by what they offer the world.

Some relationships were rekindled and deepened, some faded and changed. Learning to both “let go” and embrace the gift in how each one changes me.

I’m blown away by how God continued to refine me and awaken me and encourage me and use me as I think about all the lives and stories I had the opportunity to be invited into as a counselor. That space continues to be stunningly sacred and holy.

I’m humbled and grateful for the places and spaces that I was able to offer my voice in different corners of the country this year. The traveling, the beautiful scenery, the energy radiated and given…it filled me and brought life to my soul. I experienced more of God’s redemption and healing in my story as I shared my one small voice in the sea of voices out there.

I was a student of the human heart in new ways as I listened to and observed the people I sat next to, ran into, watched from a distance, allowing their suffering and ache and healing and hope to remind me of our humanity and the longing for wholeness that exists beyond any border, any political camp, any skin color, any gender, any religion, any family.

I’ve come undone and felt desperate in new and shocking ways…mentally, emotionally, physically, and while I could write so much about this, I’m choosing to practice gratitude while I name the good in each experience, in each person, in myself.

I watched my children live another year and was amazed at how their words turned into sentences, how they continue to live awake and full of awe and wonder, how their innocence keeps turning into enlightenment, how they crave love and delight and connection and safety, and how they easily and authentically remind me of what matters, of how good we are no matter what we say or do, and how important it is to keep fighting for what’s good and true.

I’m utterly grateful to keep sharing each year with my husband, whose companionship and love and faithfulness keeps recycling and renewing each day.

And my Creator…I’ve felt his embrace and gentleness and power and presence in ways that were both subtle and gigantic, and heard his whisper that kept calling out the best in me, even when I wasn’t sure how much energy I had left.

So, starting the new year by remembering what was…and grabbing it all up, storing it in my memory, my heart. A ton of mundane, but much of the divine in the daily; an abundance of new experiences, fun and extravagant and hard. So much to remember, so much to celebrate.

And then, anticipating what will be…more good, more hard, more ordinary, more extraordinary. And, learning what it means to receive it all with acceptance, with grace, with humor, with openness…to how it all fits into God’s larger story…for me, for his world.

May your heart become stronger, more tender, more whole, more free. May you be reminded of who you are in profound and surprising ways as 2013 unfolds.

Happy, happy new year!

A little peek into our 2012: A Year in Review

 

holiday cheer.

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year. It’s the hap-happiest season of all.”

Glowing hearts. Glorious tales. Good cheer. Kissing. Singing. Parties.

We’re making our grand entrance into the most wonderful time of the year…right? Family parties, work parties, school parties, social parties – they’re starting to spread themselves across our calendars. Food and festivities and fun are awaiting us.

But what happens when you add the people? Parties with people? What starts stirring inside of you when you begin anticipating the people at the parties? How can it be that the people can make or break our holidays?

Let’s review some of the lovely cast members…

The grump. The one that greets you with that smirk or look or signs of boredom or no looking at you at all. Their face, their attitude, silently shouts, “I don’t wanna be here. I’m here only because I have to be.” They’re reading the newspaper, watching TV, positioned in isolation, tucked away by themselves. Yup, the one you totally don’t want to be seated next to at the dinner table. You feel ignored.

The talker. The words and stories are shooting out of their mouth like a bubble machine, floating around in circles with no direction, no intent. They’re really not interested in you or what’s happening in your life, rather, they’re eager for you to know, desperately know, that they are present and breathing and that there’s an abundance of things happening in their life, their world. You feel unseen.

The clown. The one that’s going to make everyone laugh, the center of attention. The one who wants to bring up the level of joy, all night. The one who enters conversations turning everything into something humorous and lighthearted, minimizing any sign of tension, shutting any deep feeling down. Their desire for harmony is well-intentioned, but they seem to miss any moment for connection and depth. You feel too much.

The social networker. The phone, the tablet, Facebook, Twitter, you name it…they drag the outside world into the room, into the space, already occupied with people, real people. They seemingly can’t get enough of other people’s lives, the outside news, the constant “noise.” They seem distracted and unengaged. You feel lucky if you have more than a 5 minute continuous conversation with them. Keeping up with everything “outside” seems more important than building anything meaningful “inside” the room. You feel unimportant.

The critic. They’ve got something to say about everything. Their ideas, their opinions, their thoughts…they fill the space between you and them. No matter what you say, no matter how you say it, they will correct you, enlighten you, try to convince you that their truth should be your truth. You feel dumb.

The disaster. The drama seems to have followed them everywhere since you last talked with them. Something strange or chaotic or awful or hurtful has once again entered their life. Their stories are unending, filled with lingering, run on sentences. All you can do is listen with amazement. You feel boring.

The star. The report as you catch up is nothing but wonderful and perfect. Once again, they’re doing everything right and good to further their life, their future, the world. They’ve got it all together and all you can do is stand in their shadow. You feel inferior.

The helper. The one who dutifully is making sure the party is running smoothly, paying attention to every detail, including that you just put your glass on the wrong surface. They’re picking up after you, cleaning up your mess before it even becomes a mess. They’re missing out on connecting with anyone because they’re frantically making sure all the “work” is done before the relaxing can begin. You feel intimidated.

There are a lot of seemingly selfish people during the holidays.

There are a lot of people who present themselves in irritating and annoying and unhelpful ways.

There are a lot of categories we could put them in.

There are a lot of people who want to be heard, be noticed, be liked, be valued…

Just like you. Just like me.

We’re all looking for and hoping for and longing for the cheer and joy and love, aren’t we?

So, what if this year, we focused on how we could share, dish out, the “wonderfulness” of this season on others instead of feeling entitled to experiencing it ourselves? Could we become selfish in a new way? Selfish by soaking in and digesting all that gets dished out to us?

Listening to him.

Paying attention to her.

Understanding him.

Appreciating her.

Respecting him.

Enjoying her.

So, that we can offer what they are looking for, hoping for, longing for.

So, that we can offer back to them exactly what their soul craves…

Delight

Belonging

Value

Security

Understanding

Appreciation

Love

Maybe, just the chance to be human.

I’m convinced that this was one of the gifts of the baby in the manger…God entering humanity, embracing our humanity.

This year, what would it be like for you to enter into the humanity in the room? What if the “wonderful” and “happy” already exists? In him? In her?

Maybe our “wonderful” and “happy” comes when we find it in others.

Maybe you being you and allowing you to connect with them is just exactly what this most wonderful time of year is about.

Because seriously, what would a party be without the people?

 

10 voices giving voice.

I feel so grateful for the opportunity each year to be a part of National Adoption Month…as an adoptee, as a voice in the adoption world, as an advocate for the human heart.

I thoroughly loved sharing the voices of Sarah Carter (waiting mama), Tona Ottinger (adoptive mama) and Brad Nelson (adoption advocate) this month. Their message, their voice may be just a sliver of what’s out there, but I know that their heart and experience covers a vast array of the human race. So, thank you, friends, for offering your voice and heart this month.

This last “adoption” post comes from the heart of the adoptive parent. 10 women so happily and eagerly volunteered to read Before You Were Mine and write a review for me, for you. I was totally wow’d at the response and even more wow’d by their ability to not only read the pages, but allow the message on the pages to soak in, deeply. They “got it” – that the story of their amazing and beautiful and precious baby’s heart…mattered. And, that it mattered before they held him or her in their arms.

So, thank you lovely ladies, stellar mamas, gifted storytellers…for being open to not only sharing your voice, but also giving voice to your children. May you sense God’s favor upon you, upon them, as you begin telling their stories.

And, here they are…

Welcome to…MaryLeigh Brown from Tennessee.

She’s a…children’s ministry director by day, mom of three amazing kiddos (Bates, age 3 from S. Korea and Brodie, age 2 from S. Korea, waiting on our daughter, Nell, age 1 to come home), waiting child advocate, blogger at someshadesofbrown.com.

As an adoptive mother, I feel very strongly it is my job to put together the pieces, record, and treasure my children’s stories. For over two years “do lifebooks” has been on my to do list. I’ve tackled mountains of paperwork, blogs, photo albums, and videos – all the while putting off the overwhelming task of my children’s life books. “Before You Were Mine” is the tool I have been needing. Not only does it stress the importance of creating this life long treasure, it more importantly walks you through the “how.” It is so much more than another adoptive parenting book, it is a workbook and a tool so desperately needed in the adoptive community. Now I feel not only inspired to finally tackle my children’s lifebooks, but also equipped with a tool for those harder, heavier parts. I am honored to be able to put together this message of redemption, hope, and love for my children.

Welcome to…Elizabeth Isaak from Illinois.

My name is Elizabeth Isaak and I am a mother of three. The first two came to our family biologically, and our third was adopted from Ethiopia in 2009. Adoption was always a hope of my husband and I, and we are so blessed to be called to this amazing adventure. With an 8, 6, and 4 year old, we are always busy and sufficiently exhausted by the end of our days, but we wouldn’t have it any other way. In fact, we plan on adding more to our brood through adoption, because we feel God has called us to this life. We’ve already broken the “American” standard for a neat and tidy family of four, so we figure, why not keep going? Our life is hectic, there is always a level of chaos in our house, there is always laundry to be folded, and if the house is spic and span, it probably means a social worker is coming over for a home visit. But there is love here, and we have room for more.

Prior to reading, “Before You Were Mine,” I had no idea what a Lifestory was and why it was so important. I am a second-generation adoptive mom, and back in the early 80’s, when my younger brother was adopted from South Korea, there was no education for adoptive families on how to address identity with your child, or the importance of celebrating their heritage. My brother was American, and that was it. We knew a little about his story before he came home to our family, but it was never addressed directly or sensitively. My parents thought that loving him, making him part of our family, and providing for him was all he needed to feel fulfilled. Personally, I don’t have to wonder about my beginnings, or my identity. I am genetically related to my parents, so there is no question where I come from. But my son doesn’t have that privilege. He will wonder about who his biological parents are, what they looked like, what they did, where they lived, what was important to them. Those questions were easily answered for me, but not for him. As his mother, I have the opportunity to help him know as much about his beginnings and his identity as I can. While exploring our child’s life story may become emotional and oftentimes painful, they deserve to know that they HAD a beginning, that they matter, they are loved, and to know their identity. Addressing the beginning of their story is essential for them to embrace who they are and their value. “Before You Were Mine” not only lays out the importance putting together your child’s lifestory, it also provides an easy, step-by-step instruction for how to put it together. For someone like me, who is seriously lacking in the organization and time management department, this book was just what I needed to encourage me to discover my son’s lifestory. The feeling of being overwhelmed has now been replaced by a feeling of confidence. I can’t wait to get started! Thank you Susan and Carissa for this very handy tool!

Welcome to…Ellen Ragsdale from Kentucky.

I have been married for 13 years to my husband, Nathan. We have 3 children two biological sons, Ethan 12 and Isaiah 6; our daughter Annalee is 3 and was adopted from South Korea. Ethan and I traveled to Korea and brought her home when she was 11 months old. I work in military healthcare and my husband is the primary homeschool teacher to our kids in our second year of homeschooling. I am the editor of the monthly newsletter for our area homeschool group and a guest contributor to our ladies newsletter in our church. As a former journalism major in college I have a love for the written word!Just two weeks ago our family moved into a new home to become neighborhood ambassadors in an at risk neighborhood in our town. We will be building relationships with our neighbors and hosting programs such as Jobs for Life, tutoring, and Bible Clubs in our home. We are so blessed to be serving with our children and are in awe of how God is working in our lives!

When given the opportunity to read the book, Before You Were Mine, there were two words that came to mind – curiosity and excellence. As an adoptive parent I had heard the term “Lifebook” many times, but had never given it a thought beyond a scrapbook of my daughter’s adoption, so I was curious as to what exactly this book would share. I expected nothing less than excellence in this piece of writing, as I had been afforded the opportunity to attend a conference in which author Carissa Woodwyk was a keynote speaker. As an adoptee her words were like gold to adoptive moms just hoping and praying they were doing the best for their precious adopted children. Her words were raw, honest, and enlightening…she spoke with passion and excellence.

I picked up the book and read slowly through the first chapter. It seemed hard for me to process the concept of a lifebook outside of the preconceived notion of a scrapbook, but in chapter two I was drawn into this treasure of knowledge and could not seem to stop reading the words that were inspiring me to see my child’s story and that of her birthparents in a new light…

From page 27, “We now become treasure hunters looking for gold – but not just the gold found in the facts and data in our child’s documents, as important as that is, but also the gold found in Scripture that we can intimately tie to our child’s unique adoption experience.”

Page after page I was prodded to make notes of wisdom written by a mom that has been in my shoes, a mom to three young kids, knowing someday questions will surface and still thankful that there is still time to prepare. The overwhelming task of being a story teller and guarding our children’s hearts and self-worth is simplified in such a way that it does not take away from the sacredness of the mission, but makes it manageable for a parent to undertake, whether they consider themselves creative or not.

I am thankful for Before You Were Mine, because now I am prepared to write my daughter’s story, not just from the day she joined our family, but from the day she was born. This book is a treasure…both excellently written and sure to fulfill the curiosity of an adoptive parent that is seeking the inspiration to create a loving keepsake that will provide guidance and assurance for their child.

Welcome to…Julie VanderMeulen from Michigan.

She is…a stay-at-home adoptive mother of two children born in Guatemala.

Before You Were Mine is a treasure for adoptive families. It weaves the practical steps of creating a Lifebook with invaluable reminders of how God’s hand is at work in every moment of our children’s lives, including the ones they lived before we were united as a family. It shows how to tell our children’s sacred stories, no matter how painful they may be, so that our children come to understand how God has always been their loving Father, even through relinquishment, encouraging healing throughout their lives. Before You Were Mine reiterated to me how necessary Lifebooks are, and it made a huge project do-able. I’m so grateful!

Welcome to…Karen King from North Carolina.

I am Karen King, 43 years old, wife, mother and special education teacher. I have two wonderful children. Declan, 8, is my biological son. He is red headed, bright, loves learning about all things science, building with Lego and thinks his sister is way cooler than she thinks he is. Terefech, 7, is our daughter from Ethiopia. She is curly headed, athletic, girly, loves school and loves her brother some of the time. We were brought to adoption for a variety of reasons. I had always said I was going to adopt for as long as I can remember. Around Declan turning 2, I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis which led us to the path of adoption at that point. My husband has his undergraduate degree in international affairs/African studies which drew us to Ethiopia as a place to adopt from.

I was excited to read “Before You Were Mine” because I saw Carissa speak at an adoptive mom’s retreat. I identified with her ways of thinking about talking with your children about adoption, race and how to talk to your children about their life and challenges. I just felt there was so much I could learn from her as an adoptive parent.

As I started reading “Before You Were Mine,” I felt I had addressed many of the issues it would be talking about. I was lucky that my adoption agency provided us with a pre-made lifebook while we were in Ethiopia. It documented Terefech’s life in Ethiopia once she came into care. Our agency also had provided us with information about her birthplace and her birth family. Terefech has these books in her possession and looks at them occasionally. have also made books of our trip to Ethiopia and pictures of her friends from the orphanage and care center I basically felt like I was done. I still wanted to get all of our paperwork organized for her to look through at some point but I felt pretty accomplished.

“Before You Were Mine” has made me realize I am not done. I need to keep going I have so much more of Terefech’s story to tell. And I saw her in the personal stories that the authors shared. I saw that she needs to hear all I can tell her about her life before me, what I know of what happened and why, and see the faces of the people who continue to love her from another country. It will help her in ways that I can’t even define at this point in her life. I am so glad that I got to read this book and have it help me be a better mom!

I liked this book for so many reasons. I really enjoyed the personal stories that were told, how the life book can work in your life and your child’s life, the different ways scripture was shown to incorporate into the life book. I am a Christian and a very liberal Christian at that. Often my views of Christianity and Christianity as it pertains to adoption, don’t agree with the way others views it. I felt as though I had a place in this book. That it gave me a place to incorporate my beliefs of God and how his love is involved in our story. The quotes and quotes of scripture give me the ability to share with my daughter the love I know God had for her from the very beginning and that hasn’t changed because of who she lives with. “May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give you the same attitude of mind toward each other that Jesus Christ had.” Romans 15:5. I was especially drawn to the lines in the book, “We believe our children are with us today because God responded to their need and our desire to parent them.” As well, “He is the defender of the fatherless, not the cause.” To be honest, those words helped me define how I believed it all worked or why it worked or why I hope it is working.

Welcome to…Natalie Henderson from Kentucky.

I am a mother of two sons, adopted from Ethiopia, one of whom is HIV+. I am also a pediatrician, training to be pediatric intensive care doctor and live in Louisville, Kentucky with my boys. I spend my time free from work with my boys and advocating for HIV+ children. I hope in the next three years to be running an adoption clinic in Louisville.

When I adopted our first son, I was guilty of saving every momento, picture, and piece of paper throughout the process for his “lifebook.” It was not until he was home for over a year, in the middle of our second adoption, that I realized this was more than a scrapbook of our adoption. We were going to meet his birth mom and I wanted to tell the real story for him. I did my best but still felt something was missing.

I just finished “Before You Were Mine” and now feel equipped to do justice to both of my sons’ stories, both the one overflowing with information and the one scarce and full of pain. Having heard Carissa Woodwyk speak previously, I instantly valued her opinion, but having that combined with Susan’s personal experience as an adoptive mom gave a palpable and real look at the impact of lifebooks in both the adoptee and the adoptive parent’s life. Moreover, they integrate the necessity of faith and Christ’s words into the life book in a way that both teaches and gives deeper meaning to the child’s journey. A must read for all adoptive parents.

Welcome to…Janet Disotell from Arizona.

I’m a stay at home mom of two children – school aged son and preK daughter. Both of my children were adopted internationally, and I’m always in search of resources to help me be the best mom I can be to them.

I’ve been an AP (adoptive parent) for 6+ years now, and I “thought” I knew what life books were all about. When I first opened “Before You Were Mine,” I expected another viewpoint on adoption and life books. Let me say that the “Overview” in itself inspired me to do a better job at creating my children’s life books. Finding scripture verses to add to the pages of their story, I’d never considered that before. Reading about that was such an “aha” moment for me. I now see that my children’s stories before coming home need to be written out so that they can put the pieces together when they want. I’m responsible for sharing everything I know in an honest yet delicate manner to help my children. “Before You Were Mine” is filled with checklists, thought provoking questions, numerous ideas and suggestions to help AP’s tell their children’s stories. Any AP who is looking for help or where to begin with their child’s life book needs THIS book. I also think that those who “think” they know what lifebooks are should get a copy as well. Thank you, Carissa Woodwyk and Susan Tebos for your knowledge and for sharing your hearts.

Welcome to…Kamarah Sietsema from Michigan.

I’m a stay-at-home, homeschooling mom of two biological children who are 8 and 10. I’ve been married to Ryan for 14 years and God has recently called us to expand our family through adoption. We are currently waiting for one or two children to join our family from Ethiopia. We are excited and blessed to be on this journey and can’t wait to see how the Lord continues to guide us. In my free time, I love photography, reading, hanging out with friends, walking, cooking, and eating tasty food.

Many of us have grown up not giving a second thought to where we came from or parts of our history…the details of our past have been woven into our lives as a natural, effortless component of our story. But for adopted children, this is not always the case. Their past is fragmented and torn; parts of their story are often left untold.

“Before You Were Mine” is an amazing resource aimed to equip parents in capturing their child’s story. The book details how to write a ‘Lifebook,’ which is “a story book that acknowledges, celebrates, explains, and honors the life of an adoptee prior to adoption.” It also gives insightful information on when to discuss sensitive aspects of the child’s history, as well as which details to share, depending on his/her age.

The writing guide this book provides is well laid out and organized; I don’t need to brainstorm a list of what to write about. Well thought-out questions are divided into sections and parents are guided step-by-step through the writing process. Example Lifebook pages are provided with tips on how and what facts to include.

What I appreciated most about the authors’ perspective on writing a Lifebook was their God-honoring focus. Prayers are sprinkled throughout chapters, encouraging parents to pray through the writing process and for their children. Scripture verses are included as empowering guides for parents as they prepare to engage in adoption conversations with their kids. This book embraces God’s Word as Truth and fully acknowledges our trust and reliance on Him as we guide and raise our children.

I believe that this book could be a valuable resource for parents to help their adopted children embrace and understand their past and the unique plan God has for each of their lives.

Welcome to…Jennifer Vines from Alabama.

I’m a 40 year old wife and homeschooling mom of four. Our oldest was adopted domestically through the foster care system in Alabama. Parenting my children, especially my now 13 year old adoptee, has stretched my faith and caused me to lean more heavily than ever on my Father. I’m so grateful for the encouragement of Before You Were Mine and in the new year will be leading a group through this book as we compile our children’s life stories. I can’t wait to see how we gain a better understanding of our children’s losses, our own grief and reckon that impact into our parenting.

I heard Carissa at an adoption conference last year and was moved by her honest story and wisdom as a transracial adoptee, a family counselor and a mom. It’s a privilege to be able to review her book and share what an encouragement it has been. I believe Before You Were Mine can benefit every adoptive family. I am recommending it frequently to my many friends who have adopted or are in process. I only wish I had read such a great perspective when my adopted son was younger, but am now eagerly anticipating completing his life book.

So much of TeBos and Woodwyk’s book is practical, real encouragement to parents wishing to explain the story of their adopted children’s lives before their adoption. I loved the beach ball analogy, though it was also a difficult visual to face personally. The authors remind us that as we push down feelings of loss or grief, or at the least, do not encourage release of them, it is like pushing a beach ball under the water; the harder we push down, the greater force with which it will erupt later. The loss of an adoptee is of great impact in his/her life, and must be dealt with – by both adoptive parent and the child who has suffered the relinquishment or abandonment. I greatly appreciated the tips on journaling our children’s stories – keeping entries into the lifebook simple for younger kids and adding information verbally as they age and we share time together, reviewing their books. There was great encouragement to use teachable moments to validate feelings and encourage openness throughout the book, as well as examples of entries, how to handle difficult information, and Scripture to incorporate faith and the truth of God’s Word as it applies to our children’s lives. This book would also be wonderfully used as a group study for adoptive families, and has simple homework/questions for pondering at the end of chapters.

Overall, I found Before You Were Mine to be very helpful for the parent on the road to adoption or those post adoption to give their children voice when dealing with their past losses and to give them security in their places in their adoptive family. This is a story written with great heart, and practical wisdom that I will refer to again and again.

Welcome to…Christi Hughes from Kentucky.

I am a blessed momma, a loved wife and an adopted CHILD OF GOD. I live in Kentucky with my husband and our little Korean cutie, a super dog and a crazy cat. We are in the process of bringing home a sibling from South Korea and have been truly blessed by the miracle of adoption.

Absolutely wonderful..and this doesn’t even touch the fact that this book takes a very scary, daunting task and puts it into manageable goals. It is so wonderfully written with personal experiences and references to God’s unfailing love for our children. There are examples of conversations, which most of us have either had with our children or are dreading about having with our children. It is a road map to create a reminder, a keepsake, about our children’s lives before they came to us. This is sometimes hard to think about because of the circumstances, but our children deserve to know the truth and they must know that God had a plan for them from the very beginning. I will be starting my son’s lifebook now, not with apprehension and confusion, but with a wonderful book that has shown me where to start and how to gather the important information.

Again, thank you mamas for reading the book, writing a review, and for the ways you love your children.

This song was used at the Tapestry Conference special presentation, “Listen to Our Hearts” – a night of adoptee voices. I love the words and I hope you feel inspired as you remind your children of who they are, how God sees them.

Remind Me Who I Am – Jason Gray

Oh, and if you have read Before You Were Mine and would like to share your feedback, feel free to contact me. I would love to hear how your storytelling is going!

a voice, a story, a life.

I love that I get to share Brad Nelson’s voice again. I introduced Brad this past February when he shared a gutsy post about how embracing our fear can lead us to freedom. Brad is not an adoptive parent, nor an adoptee, but…he’s been a friend whose heard the heart of those who have been relinquished, and has listened. Truly listened. He’s someone who has allowed himself and his story to be joined with the heart and story of those around him. His understanding and insight and perspective on adoption is encouraging and affirming and hopeful to me, and I trust that you’ll feel the same way.

The word “adopt” comes from the Latin adoptare—“ad,” meaning “to,” and “optare,” meaning “choosing, wishing, and desiring.” In other words, to be adopted is to have been chosen, to have been wished for, to have been desired.

I cannot begin to imagine the complexity that an adopted child must face. Humans are so deeply formed by the faces of their parents in the earliest days of life. So much of who I am today is shaped by the fact that as a child when I opened my eyes to see as far as they could see there was a face looking back. Imagine for a moment the silence of a child looking into the abyss of absence. I suppose the silence and the absence of that moment lingers in a life.

Unfortunately, the word adoption gets thrown around this time of year in ways that rob it of its depth. Well meaning people speak of adopting a family for Thanksgiving or Christmas, but adoption is about so much more than helping someone or even coming to their rescue.

Others have spoken of adoption in terms of being a “voice for the voiceless,” which is understandable. The Bible has a long tradition of identifying widows and orphans as some of the most vulnerable people in the community. Their vulnerability came from the fact that there was no one in a position of power or means to care for them. And yet, I am regularly blown away by a child’s capacity to heal, and as I hear these stories of healing, I’m overwhelmed with the sense that here is a person who does have a voice. Sure, as vulnerable children they may have lacked the “power” to change their situation, but they certainly aren’t voiceless. They have a story to tell, and maybe instead of thinking of adoption as being a voice for their voicelessness it would be more fitting to think of it as the sacred process of seeing in a child what is already there. A voice. A story waiting to be told. A life that is worth being chosen.

“For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love, he predestined us to be adopted as his sons and daughters through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will…” (Ephesians 1v4-5)

This passage from the New Testament is more than a cute coincidence. In the 1st Century, outside of Rome, Ephesus was one of the wealthiest cities on earth. Its wealth came, in large part, from its thriving slave trade. Ephesus was also the hometown of a well known doctor named Soranus. He went on to practice medicine in Rome, but one of his surviving writings deals with “how to recognize the child worth rearing.” Any deformity or abnormality might lead to the child being rejected and subjected to the Roman practice of infant exposure, literally being abandoned and exposed to the elements. Some children were picked up by families and used as slaves.

Now imagine Ephesus. A bustling metropolis. A thriving slave trade. And a community of people called Christians who had received an open letter from a man named Paul. That letter would have been read aloud, probably in someone’s home where Christians and their households had gathered. It’s quite possible that some of those hearing Paul’s words were the very same children who had been abandoned or exposed and had become slaves. Can you imagine what it must have been like for them to hear those words?

He chose you before the creation of the world.

You were predestined to be adopted as sons and daughters.

In accordance with his pleasure.

Eugene Peterson writes, “It wasn’t a last-minute thing because he felt sorry for us and no one else would have us, like a stray mutt at the dog pound, or an orphan whom nobody adopted. He chose us ‘before the foundation of the world.’ We are in on the action, long before we have any idea that we are in on the action. We are cosmic.”

If you are reminded of anything during National Adoption Month, be reminded of this: Those who have been adopted have been chosen, wished for, and desired. They are the beloved. They are a story that has been being written from the moment the world was a spark in the eye of the Creator.

I, for one, cannot wait to hear their voices finish telling the stories that began so long ago.

Brad is the pastor of formation at Church of Hope, Florida. A speaker, writer, and student at Western Theological Seminary (MDiv), he and his wife Trisha are the proud parents of two beautiful daughters, Braylen and Clara. You can hear more of Brad’s voice at http://www.bleedingoutloud.com

entering in.

So happy to introduce to you Tona Ottinger, an adoptive mama, an adoption advocate, a woman who seeks the beauty and hope in the world around her. I met her in my ever growing circle of adoption and have grown to love her heart for Jesus and her heart for what it means to parent the heart of her children. I’m confident you will be encouraged and inspired by what she has to share about “entering in” to the brokenness and beauty of story.

I like happy endings and packages wrapped in pretty bows. I like predictability and I grapple for control. I avoid pain whenever possible, trying instead to look on the bright side and think the best of everyone and all situations.

But that is not life. That is not relationships and it is certainly not reality. It is not living in the moment. When I choose to live in the moment, my heart is pushed to be honest. I am faced with a fallen and broken world, with shattered hopes and hurting people. I am forced to see the fractured pieces of lives affected by sin, evil, and suffering, including my own. The present is where my feelings are and where I should live. It is also where I hear the voice of the Lord and experience His presence and His peace that truly does surpass all understanding. He speaks, reveals, heals, and redeems in the present moment.

When we live in the moment, we are open and vulnerable to both pain and healing, to both fear and peace, to both sadness and joy, and to both loss and hope. When I focus too much on the past I get stuck. When I long too much for the future I am either paralyzed with fear of the unknown or lost in fairytale day dreaming about all the possible “what ifs.” But, I am not living with the joy and freedom of being present.

As a mom of four precious children through the gift of adoption, I have come to see that my children live in the present. Yes, they are affected greatly by the reality of their past and the loss, pain, and fear that weaves its hand through their stories. They are often very fearful of the future, but the healing they so desperately need happens moment by moment as we walk throughout our days. They are living and healing inthe moment.

They are longing for someone to cling to. Someone to trust. Someone to put their hope in and someone who will love them unconditionally, ultimately as Christ loves us. This is a tall order for a weak and fallen human to fulfill. I fail often. I make mistakes, and I am far from perfect. So I cling to His lavish grace. I need the same things they need from Him. So we are on a journey together. But that journey is lived taking one step as a time in the present moment. Where we all need grace, healing, trust, and compassion from our heavenly Father.

As their mom, I must be willing to enter into their pain and watch God heal and work. As much as I want to control, protect and rescue them, that is not what God has called me to do. That is His job. Please do not misunderstand me; I take very seriously the role that God has ordained for me and my husband within our children’s stories. We have the divine privilege of walking with them on their healing journey. God created the human heart and mind to operate inrelationship. That is where healing and hope reside. But, I cannot force this process and I must cling to Him as I wait.

Henry Nouwen says this about compassion:

“Compassion asks us to go where it hurts, to enter into the places of pain, to share in brokenness, fear, confusion, and anguish. Compassion challenges us to cry out with those in misery, to mourn with those who are lonely, to weep with those in tears. Compassion requires us to be weak with the weak, vulnerable with the vulnerable, and powerless with the powerless. Compassion means full immersion in the condition of being human.”

We are all broken and in that brokenness is the place where God’s redemptive hand creates great beauty. There can only be healing where there was pain. Peace can rush into the place that fear once took residence.

As God knits our families together through adoption, we are given a divine invitation to enter into our children’s lives with compassion and hope.

The human heart is sacred ground. There is power in sharing our stories and lives with one another. God created us as beings that are to live in community, with one another. We are, after all, made in Hisimage; the image of a triune God – One God in three persons. Relationship, community, family, life on life; this is how God created us to function. Together.

As an adoptive family we stand amazed that God in his infinite sovereignty searched the globe over and chose the 6 of us to live life together. None of us are related by birth or blood. None of us share an ounce of DNA, but we are a family.

We are a picture of his creative hand.

We are living life together.

We are loving deeply.

We are hoping in Him.

A song that speaks to Tona’s heart: Beautiful Things by Gungor

Tona Ottinger has been married to Mark for 15 years and they live in Tennessee, where Mark serves as the Pastor to Families at Fellowship Memphis. They have four blessings through adoption. Camden(12yrs) – came home from South Korea at 10 months old. Mia (11yrs) – was adopted domestically at birth. Mallie (9yrs) – was adopted from Hong Kong at the age of 3yrs. Dax (8yrs) – was adopted domestically at 4 months old. They are passionate about special needs adoptions as well as compassionately walking with their children through their stories. Together they head up a city-wide ministry that resources and supports adoptive and foster families, as well as several projects that support the local foster care system. The Ottingers are parent trainers for Empowered to Connect. Tona is passionate about living a hope-filled life of abiding in Christ and being fully known and loved by Him. You can follow Tona on her blog.