Waiting

Our baby is due any day now.  He would already be here, if I had my way.  For anyone who has ever been pregnant, you know what I'm talking about when I say that my body is so sick of its current condition that I'm actually, in some way, looking forward to labor and delivery. 

Well...maybe I can't go that far.  I can't imagine looking forward to labor.  I'm at least looking forward to not being pregnant anymore; to the day when I can say to my husband, "Honey, could you please hold the baby for a while?"

This waiting game is driving me crazy.

And yet, I think I'm going to have to get used to it, because I have not one, but two sons that I'm waiting to see delivered from their present circumstances.

We had word from Mr. J's school that he's been acting out horribly.  A "terror", they called him.  We aren't surprised, as the choices he's been making for the past six months have been overwhelmingly horrible.  But it is a bit unsettling to hear this description from a school that deals regularly with unmanageable teenaged boys; they've seen it all and are phased by little, and yet our son stands out from the crowd. 

I have mixed feelings about this news.  It's a good thing that he's not hiding this side of himself from other people like he used to, pretending to be perfect.  He needs to be honest about what he's thinking and feeling if he's ever going to get to a place where he's ready to work on healing....until then, all the therapy and common sense in the world would fall on deaf ears. 

I feel sad for my son, obviously.  He's an emotional wreck teeming with hormones and rage that he can't handle.  The traditional mental hospital couldn't handle it, the police couldn't handle it, Juvenile Detention couldn't handle it, and the state of Michigan refused to even try.  As much as it pains me to say it, our family could no longer handle it either. 

Which leads me to the other overwhelming feeling I'm flooded with on a daily basis: relief.   Our family is safe, our other children are starting to relax, and I've finally stopped jumping every time I hear a noise from somewhere in the house, adrenaline pumping with the expectation of a full-blown rage.  For a while, at least, someone else is dealing with the behavior that's dominated our lives for so long.  Somewhere where there are many, many adults to help at any time, and no small children to be caught up in the middle of the fury.

And so we wait, and we pray. 

We place our faith in Christ, trusting that in His own time, he will deliver both of these sons into our hands.  

If I had my way, the waiting would be over, and they would both be healthy and whole in my arms at this very moment. 

Crazy?

So, we did it.

We took the giant leap of faith.

Are we crazy?  I have the feeling some may think so.  I understand that it sounds crazy and irresponsible to the world in general to send your son away to a boarding school when the funds aren't in your bank account. 

Perhaps it would have been a better financial decision for our family to let the courts have him.  It would have required less trust and blind faith, that's for sure, but it also would have required leaving all the decisions about our son's future in the hands of people (albeit competent and over-worked people) that don't know our son, don't love our son, and don't really, truly care about our son's heart and his long-term healing.

We felt it was best to leave the decision-making to God, whose love for Mr. J is as incomprehensible as a galaxy full of stars.

And so, in the last few days, we began this new journey of trusting God; of stepping out in faith, and believing beyond a doubt that somehow, God will provide.  Funding, yes.  But mostly, we're trusting God to provide a measure of healing in Mr. J throughout this next year.

We're placing our son, whom we love, securely in the hands of God. 

Yesterday morning at about three o'clock, my husband, my dad, and two of the best friends my husband could ask for set out to pick our son up at Juvenile Detention and to transport him to the facility.  It's about a twelve hour drive, and no one expected Mr. J to be compliant.  In fact, because of his recent violent behavior while incarcerated, everyone feared the worst.  I have to say, though, that God showed up in an incredible way.

And so I share the story of the first miracle of our journey, although I'm going to let my husband tell it, as written to our group of prayer partners last night:

Hello friends, family and prayer warriors,

Forgive me if this rambles a bit or doesn't always make sense - I got about 2 hours of sleep last night.

I don't know how else to say it - we experienced a miracle today.  From the moment J was released from Juvenile Detention to the moment I said goodbye, we had NOT ONE issue the entire 12 hour trip.  I'll say it again - NOT ONE!!!  After all of the violent and assaultive episodes of the past 4 months, there wasn't even a single attitude problem, let alone a violent act.  Considering the God we serve, though, we shouldn't really be surprised.  According to several facebook messages and emails, God was waking people up at various times all over West Michigan, just as the trip was beginning, to cover us with prayer.  On top of all of this, it just so happened that the detention center employee assigned to help J as he was being released was R.  You may remember that R was the believer who prayed for J and talked him through an angry outburst during a visit a few weeks back.  It was no accident that he just happened to be with J this morning.

All of us on the trip were impressed with the facility and staff.  It is absolutely founded on rock solid Biblical principles.  They believe that they are not the ones to help these boys but it is the Holy Spirit working through the Word of God that will accomplish it.  Rather than spending a year away from God in a faithless institution, J is going to be absolutely surrounded by the Word of God and strong men of faith.  It will not be an easy place for him as they require complete obedience in everything, even down to the exact way each student's bed is to be made.  Pretty soon, possibly tomorrow, he begins physical exercise and work detail. 

Please continue to pray for J.  I am sure he is completely terrified right now.  After he said goodbye, he began his time at the facility with Julio, a staff member.  J attempted to manipulate Julio with lies about us, deflecting all blame to others, intimidation (which, considering Julio is built like a Sherman Tank, proved fruitless), tears, and bragging about being tough by assaulting police officers.  This manipulation did not work on Julio, who has seen it all before.  Julio deeply challenged him after J reported that he was already saved.  These challenges actually brought out some real emotion and sadness, which I haven't seen or heard in a long time. 

Please pray for safe travels home tomorrow for four very tired and joyful guys.  We can't get over the fact that God showed up in such a huge way.  I am full of hope because J is where the Lord wants him right now.  After the events of today, I firmly believe it and have more peace than I have had during this whole ordeal.

Thank you for praying.  Please don't stop!  Though we finally can rest a little knowing where J will be, this is only the very beginning of the long road to healing. 

In Christ,
Scott

So that's where it stands right now.  And have I mentioned that I adore my God-fearing husband?  I love him like crazy!

And speaking of crazy...to those who think we are crazy to trust some "supernatural being" with providing for our family and healing our son, I would challenge that you simply do not know the God we serve.  His goodness, His mercy, His depth of love and faithfulness...they are unfathomable.  It's impossible to "foolishly" trust in Him, as long as you are walking in His will.  I would absolutely love to introduce you to the Almighty God of the Bible, and specifically to His son Jesus.  Just drop me an email at mamaandmissm@hotmail.com, and I would be happy to explain our brand of crazy to you!




  

Stepping Out in Faith

Earlier this week, we celebrated our little daughter's seventh birthday.  I can hardly believe that it's been a solid seven years since that beautiful moment when they placed that tiny squalling baby on my chest, when everyone commented on the generous amount of hair on her darling peanut-shaped head.  Seven years have passed since I first cradled that tiny pink bundle in my arms, since I sat in a hospital bed and watched as her daddy changed his very first diaper ever, little limbs flailing every which way, creating a bigger mess than the one that needed to be changed. 

Yes, seven years have flown by since that nerve-wracking snowy car ride, the one when I sat in back and checked every few seconds to make sure she was still breathing.  And those first few hours when I couldn't believe they would just send us out the door with a tiny little person that we had no idea how to care for. 

My first baby.  The first piece of my heart that left my body and took on a life all its own.

And it's been seven years now since I first had to let go of my previous belief that I was in control of anything.

I wasn't in control of whether or not I could nurse this baby, of the weight she would or would not gain from one appointment to the next, of the jaundice that forced her to be lit up like a glow-worm for days, or the constant blood draws needed to check those dangerously high bilirubin numbers.  I wasn't in control of how long she would sleep at one time, how much she would cry or spit up, or when a blow-out diaper would put a wrench in my plans for the day.  And as I fell into a routine of checking in on my little baby daughter every hour to make sure she was still breathing, I was painfully aware that I was not even in control of the next breath she would take.

I had to place her in God's hands and learn to trust in Him.

Having a baby required us to step out in faith.

When our daughter was only a few weeks old, we felt the pull from God to pursue adopting Mr. J and Miss M, who were foster children in my sister and brother-in-law's home.  In all honesty, it seemed like a really outrageous idea, considering that we had just given birth to our first child and were perfectly content with our new little family.  And these children had been through so much; we knew they would be challenging for anyone to raise, much less young, inexperienced parents like us.  But God's will for our family was blatantly strong and evident, and the pull would not diminish no matter how much we tried to reason it away.  So we began our next journey in faith and trust, knowing full well we didn't have all the answers.

When the kids came to live with us, our baby daughter was almost eleven months old, and we learned pretty quickly that we were not in control of these new children, either.  We weren't in control of whether a tantrum would cause us to be several hours late for Thanksgiving dinner, of whether or not requesting that a child brush her teeth would result in hours of rage, or if we would be hit, kicked or bitten by a raging child.  We couldn't control whether or not our son had a melt-down at school or kicked the teacher's desk, or whether he would steal money from the girl he sat next to in class.  And as some of these behaviors and attitudes threatened to dominate our lives and our family, we became painfully aware that no matter what we did, we were not in control of whether or not these traumatized children ever began to change or heal.

We had to place them in God's hands and learn to trust in Him. 

Adoption required us to step out in faith.

And now, we're being stretched and tested yet again.  Coinciding with puberty, our traumatized son's internalized rage and fear has finally caught up with him, and he is out of control.  First in our home, then in a mental hospital, and now at Juvenile Detention, where he is currently locked in his room because of his violent outbursts.  He continues to insist that he'll kill us if he comes home, and so obviously, it isn't safe for him to be here, either. 

We want him to get help.  We want him to learn to take responsibility for his actions.  We want him to be forced to work hard on getting himself to a place where he can even begin to let God heal the hurt that lies deep inside of him.

And we feel that we've found the best option: a highly structured, highly disciplined, military-style therapeutic boarding school that is built on the truth of God's Word. 

Getting him to this school before his court hearing on Wednesday would cancel the hearing and essentially drop the charges that are against him, which are severe enough that they will otherwise follow him into adulthood.  It would also keep him out of the juvenile criminal system for at least another year, giving Mr. J the chance to allow God to work in his life before then and to make better choices upon his return home.  Our hope would be that our son would come back from this school with the desire to be a part of our family again and to finally begin to work on healing the wounds from his past.  But we realize that we are not in control of his choices, his actions, or in how much he allows God to influence his life.

We aren't even in control of whether or not we can afford to send him to this school.

Here is the struggle of trust and faith that we're currently facing: our church family has offered to pay the admission fees and the first month's tuition.  They have also set up a fund within the church to continue raising money for tuition, but there is no guarantee that the $2,400 per month tuition will be there each month when it is due.  We are currently strapped and have very little income to spare, yet would be required to sign a contract stating that our son would be at the school for at least one full year.

So the question we're asking ourselves today is
                             "How much do we trust God?"

Do we just leave our son in the juvenile court system and allow them to do with him as they choose?  We don't believe this gives Mr. J the best chance to succeed.  It feels more like giving up and allowing him to start his life as a criminal at age thirteen.

Or do we place the needed tuition solely in God's hands, knowing that He is in control and trusting that the money will miraculously be there in the fund each and every month? 

Please pray with us for God's wisdom and clarity in this situation.  We only have a couple of days to decide, and we struggle with the possible financial ramifications for our family.

It's really hard, this stepping out in faith.

So Sweet

My three-year-old son wants to marry me when he grows up.  He doesn't care that I'm already married to Daddy, he still just really wants to marry me.  How sweet is that?

At three years old, he can't imagine being without me...being away from me...living life independently from me.  I'm the most important thing in his life, followed closely by swords and trucks and diggers and books and dinosaurs.  Okay, to be fair, I'm sure Daddy's in there, too...but probably somewhere after the trucks and before the dinosaurs (love you, honey). 

So why does he love me so much? 

Because I love him.  I take care of him, I feed him, I clothe him.  I completely accept him.  I comfort him when he's sad, I forgive him when he's been ornery and disobedient.  I teach him, I protect him, I spend time with him.  I listen to him; I treat him like the treasure I know he is.  He needs me, and he knows it.  He's completely vulnerable, and yet He trusts me completely.

I am his rock...the one he trusts with his life. 

He's been told by his brother and sisters that he can't marry his Mama.  Now he insists that he's just going to live with me forever, and never ever move out.  Still sweet, although I'm sure that by the time he's forty it will be more creepy than sweet.

So I got to thinking that it's really no wonder that God wants us to come to Him like a child: trusting, loving, believing.  It comes naturally for healthy, nurtured little kids to adore their parents and to desire to be with them every waking moment.  To trust them, rely on them, be completely vulnerable with them.  To relay all of the joys of life to them.  To share all of their problems, big or little, with their mommies or daddies, and truly believe that they will make them better. 

What could be sweeter than to share everything about your life with the one that loves you more than any other?

I wish I could place myself in God's hands so whole-heartedly, instead of willfully trying to control my life on my own.  I'm not very good at running my own life, anyway.  I nearly always mess it up, and I end up feeling miserable and alone.  So I've set myself a new goal. 

This week, I'm going to try to love God like a toddler loves his Mama. 

Like my toddler loves me.


P.S. Now that he's been told that he can't be a daddy someday if he still lives with his Mama, my little son is planning to grow up, get married to someone (he still hopes it will be me), and use his very own digger to build his family a house...in our back yard.  Then he can use the back door to visit me whenever he wants.  So sweet.  Love this kid. 

Like a Child

My mom's childhood friend, Joyce, went to be with Jesus this past weekend.  She wasn't old enough to die, not by the standards of our medically advanced society.  Just one day short of sixty-three.  Not old enough at all, especially when many of the most precious people in my life fall in the same age category.  Not young, not middle-aged, exactly...but definitely not "old".

And since I'm not in the center of the emotional fireball of loss (she was, after all, my mom's friend, not mine), I have a unique perspective on what is most definitely a tragedy for all those that loved Joyce.  I'm filled with, shall I say....a "reflective sorrow".  Not agony.  Not pain.  Just sadness for my mom, who lost a life-long friend, for Joyce's husband Tom, who lost a wife of forty years, and for Joyce's sons, their families, and her brothers and sisters and friends.

And because my emotions aren't overriding my every thought and action, I can see beneath the very real pain of the situation and find an overwhelming sense of joy and awe.

Because Joyce loved Jesus.  She believed in His death and resurrection, His atonement for her sins.  She professed Him as her Savior.  And since this past Saturday, she's been "reJOYCEing" in His presence in Heaven.  There is no place on Earth that could compare with the splendor that Joyce is living in at this moment.  She is wrapped in beauty and love and light and laughter and harmony and inexplicable joy.  And that leaves me in awe.

____________________________________________________________________________


Last night, on the way out to my parents' house, three-year-old Mr.C and I had a talk about Heaven:

"Someday, I'm gonna go to Heaven and live with Jesus, too.  But not yet.  Not till I'm really, really old.  Then we can go together, right, Mama?"

"Yep.  Mama loves Jesus.  Do you love Jesus, too?"

"Yep!  I love Jesus!"

"And you know that sometimes you do bad things and Jesus died for the bad things you do...so you can live with Him in Heaven someday.  Do you believe that Jesus died for you, buddy?"

"Yep!  I believe that!  And there are no bad guys in Heaven."

"Well...what if the bad guys changed their minds and decided to love Jesus?  Then they could go to Heaven, too."

"But they're BAD GUYS!!!"

"But sometimes we do bad things....and we still love Jesus.  Jesus died for everybody!  We want everybody...even bad guys...to learn about Jesus and to change their minds so they can come to Heaven, too.  Right?"

"Oh...okay.  They can come.  And they can still keep their swords, too."

_____________________________________________________________________________


We spent the evening with my parents, hopefully providing a bit of a distraction for a while.  On the way home, little Mr. C said that it was sad that Joyce had passed away, and he thought we should pray for her.  I reminded him that Miss Joyce is in Heaven, and she doesn't need us to ask Jesus to help her because she's with Jesus!  But, I said, it was important to remember to pray for Mr. Tom.  Mr. Tom is very sad, and we should pray that he lets Jesus love him and help him feel better.  I told Mr. C that we should remember to pray for Mr. Tom at bedtime.

And do you know what he said?

"We should do it right now." 

Wow.  Humbled, I realized that he was exactly right.  What was I waiting for?  Right there in the car, at the urging of a three-year-old child, we prayed for Mr. Tom.

And I realized something else.  There's a lot of wisdom in a three-year-old.

He loves.

He believes.

He forgives. 

All without questioning. 


He asks for what he wants, and he has faith that he will receive it.

He doesn't put off until later things that are important enough to do now. 

More than many adults I know, Mr. C really gets it.


So...in the wake of an unexpected death, the home going of someone who was too young but who knew where her true home was, I feel compelled to ask you...where is your true home?

Like my little son, have you heard the Good News?  Have you accepted it at face value, not trying to use your own wisdom to figure things out by yourself?  Have you placed your faith in Christ Jesus?  Do you love Him? 

And if not, if you're waiting for some perfect opportunity or for everything to suddenly make sense to you, then why don't you just ask God to reveal the truth to you?  Earnestly ask (even if you're not sure that He exists) that He would make Himself known to you.  That He would prove Himself.  Humble yourself to the possibility that what that ancient book of fables says is true.  What could it hurt? 

You should do it right now.

Because whether you're sixty-three or thirty-three or even just three, you never know which day could be your last.


P.S. If you're a bad guy, don't worry.  I am, too.  And I'm bringing my sword with me. 

__________________________________________________________________________

And he said: "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven."  Matthew 18:3

Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.  Hebrews 11:1

And for Joyce:
Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!  Philippians 4:4 
See you in Heaven.