January 2014 - Page 2 of 2 - The Sparrow Fund

January 6, 2014

Science Questions

Always inquisitive and literal, my four year old looked at me at the end of our meal and asked, “Mom, how can God live in my heart if He is living in heaven?”

“Well, honey, God is everywhere, so He can live in your heart AND in heaven.”

“Even when we go on vacation?”

“Yep, even when we go on vacation. He can be in both places at the same time. That’s kind of hard to understand, isn’t it?”

Looking puzzled she replied, “Yes, Mom. That’s like a science question.”

To her, a “science question” is a really hard question – a question whose answer is either “I don’t know”, or is too hard to understand. As I pondered our little conversation, I couldn’t help but find so much truth in it.

Ask anyone who has adopted and they will likely tell you that it was during the course of their adoption that they saw God move in powerful, undeniable ways. Those stories are such an encouragement to hear and are readily shared with others.

But most adoptive parents will also tell you that it was during the course of their adoption that they questioned God the most. Why is this so hard, Lord? Why are we hitting yet another road block? Is this the child you would have us adopt? Why are the feelings of love not coming as quickly as I assumed they would? Why did our adoption fall apart? When will the waiting end? How can this be happening?

Hard, faith-testing questions. Questions that often have no earthly answer or explanation.

“Science questions.”

We all have them. And I dare say that those “science questions” are just as important to share as our “success stories”. Sharing our struggles and questions – even unanswered ones – with each other allows us to experience authentic, faith-filled community. You struggle with that? I do, too!

It’s also important to keep approaching God with our questions. He’s big enough to handle our questions. Even our “science questions”. And while He certainly could give us answers, He just may be more interested in having us wrestle with Him over the questions.

Wrestling requires closeness.

Wrestling produces strength.

Wrestling may also cause hurt (as it did when Jacob), but with God it will be a hurt that will serve as a reminder of the holiness of God and the intimacy of your relationship.

So Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him till daybreak. When the man saw that he could not overpower him, he touched the socket of Jacob’s hip so that his hip was wrenched as he wrestled with the man. … The sun rose above him as he passed Peniel, and he was limping because of his hip.
Genesis 32:24-25, 31

So share those questions with others in your faith-community. Find support and community with others. You are not alone in your questioning. But also approach God with your questions. Wrestle with Him. He longs to draw you closer to him and will use anything He can to get you there.

Even “science questions”.

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18 years in the classroom as a teacher was easy compared to parenting three little ones at home full-time. Through their three daughters, God has revealed Himself most clearly to Stephanie and her husband Matthew. He not only worked a miracle in giving them their biological daughter, He continued to show Himself in mighty ways throughout adoption journeys in China and Bhutan that were anything but normal. Nowadays she enjoys encouraging and connecting with other adoptive families through her work on “We Are Grafted In”. You can read more about their family on their personal blog We Are Family.

January 3, 2014

He is There. He is Here

Christmas 2009. Four Christmases ago. I was a wreck. We were so close to finding our new daughter. I just knew it would be a few weeks after Christmas; I hoped it would be a few weeks after Christmas. I was filled with expectation that Christmas.

And, that meant that though I didn’t know who she was or where exactly she was, what she looked like or how old she was, I knew she was. I knew she was somewhere across the world, alone on Christmas, what turned out to be her first Christmas.

I was anxious and wondering and thinking all the time about her. Yet, there was something that gave me great peace.

God was there.

In Luke 2:6-20, Luke mentioned the manger three times. Why?

The manger was messy. It wasn’t what we picture and what our children play with as part of our little nativity sets they can hold in their hands. It wasn’t a symmetrical wooden contraption with a sweet bed of hay. It was more like a box looking thing or basin made out of clay mixed with hay or stones and held together with mud. All kinds of food for animals was put into it, not just nice yellow hay. It was dirty, likely moldy, smelly, not anything we’d want our child anywhere near.

And, God was there. Very literally, God was there.

As spunky and full of life as Lydia is now, there was a time that she was in a pretty messy place. I believe her orphanage was one of the better ones—her needs were met, and we’ve learned that there were quite caring women who took to her there. There was a wall of windows with natural light in the room where she lived 24-7. In that room were 40 cribs and a few toys for all to share to pass their days until they graduated to another room and then another. There were older children in that orphanage too, children we weren’t allowed to see. I wonder what their days were like.

I’ve heard a lot of stories, stories about adopted children who flinch when someone moves their direction in fear that they will be hit; children with flat heads who were never held; children who have come to accept that no one wants to bring home a child their age, only babies; children who suffer significant consequences from not having the medical treatment they needed earlier.

And, yet, I believe God is there.

God is not only not afraid to get his feet dirty; He is about getting His feet dirty. That’s what advent is all about, isn’t it? God coming down, the perfect to the broken, the holy to the unholy.

Psalm 34:18 tells us He’s close to the brokenhearted, and there are so many, so very many. I can only imagine that He is very close indeed to brokenhearted children—here and there—whether they are aware of their brokenness or not. He’s there.

I prayed for our daughter four Christmases ago, that He would be close to her, that He would remain close to her. That He would be tangibly felt in that room where she slept. That He would wrap His arms around her when she was cold. That He’d rock her when she needed comfort. That He’d be in the manger with her.

I know He was there.

And, somehow, in the dark places of orphanages around the world, I can’t explain how or what He always looks like there, but I believe that He’s there. In the warmth of the sun pouring in the windows, He comforted my child. In the smile of a nanny. In the gaze of another orphan. In the provision sent by charities around the world. In her broken heart—emotionally and literally.

Somehow, He was there.

Now, as my children listen to us read about His story every night, sing familiar and unfamiliar words together to prepare, sneak Hershey kisses in their mouths as we make reindeer eyes, and use entirely too much scotch tape on crafts and wrapping paper alike, He is here…and, He is there, somehow making an unholy place, holy.

That’s what advent is about. That’s what He’s about.

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Forever changed by our experience of being adopted and adopting, Kelly is a stay-at-home mom/manager to 4 children and a professional juggler, juggling her calling as wife and mother with her secondary callings (editing and serving adoptive families through The Sparrow Fund). You can learn more about their adoption story, how they’ve been changed, and what life for them looks like on their personal blog, My Overthinking.

January 2, 2014

waiting

He started making eye contact a few days ago and when that happens, it’s impossible to not fall in love with the little boy whose big eyes stare at me over the bottle day after night after day. I tell him that he’s perfect, that someone is praying for him right now, begging that the next phone call will bring the news that their baby is ready. He grabs my finger and I tell him he’s so strong and that one day, maybe he’ll use that strength to fight for the ones who are waiting for families.

Waiting.

It’s impossible to hold one of these waiting ones or to look into the eyes of the ones I love across the ocean and not think, “Are there children out there waiting – right now – for me?” My friends walk off those airplanes with sons and daughters, beautiful and tall, whose eyes tell a story of long years spent waiting. And I’ve been there – lived there – long enough to witness their waiting. I know the ones who have watched friend after friend walk away with their new family and one of them scoots up next to me and says, “Will my family come next?”

So to keep my heart from breaking and theirs from growing hard, I take their faces in my hands and say it over and over and over. You’re beautiful. You’re loved. You were created on purpose. I tell her that she is loved – that this God she reads stories about is real and He’s a Father to us all, but especially to the ones who wait. I tell him that there are things in life that hurt us and if they hurt us they hurt Him, too. They can talk to Him like a Father.

On Mother’s Day this year, I tiptoed into the hospital nursery and scooped up one of the tiniest ones who was waiting. Just a few weeks later, I got to tell her forever mommy and daddy that I held her that day, told her they were coming, and prayed she would feel safe.

And I pray almost daily that there is someone doing the same for my children who might be waiting out there. I pray that someone is tucking them into a bed at night and kissing their foreheads and treating them with respect. I pray that when they look into the eyes of their caregivers, they see delight and safety reflected there. I pray that if they are alone, He would fill them with an unexplainable confidence that this is not their forever – that someone will come for them.

Isn’t that what our Father did for us? While we were waiting, He made a way for us to know that this is not out forever.

So while they wait for me and I wait for them and this little boy in my arms is waiting for someone else and I’m sure you’re waiting for something, too, let’s cling to the truth that this waiting is not forever and that the Father who planned our lives is good even when the minutes and hours aren’t. He promised.

Maybe your waiting looks different. Maybe you’re waiting for a new job or for a spouse to come home from deployment or for school to start or for your child to attach to you fully or maybe just for the baby to finally fall asleep. If, like me, you just need to be reminded over and over that He is good, pop on over to this littleInstagram space where my friend posts daily lifelines to the Father who keeps His promises.

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Mandie Joy is a foster parent and in-process adoptive mama of two beautiful little girls in Africa. She blogs at www.seeingjoy.com.

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Month: January 2014

Science Questions

He is There. He is Here

waiting