Hair bows and happiness

The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
“The LORD is my portion,” says my soul,
“therefore I will hope in him.”

Lamentations 3:22-24

When God called us to adopt a baby girl from China, I knew exactly how it would be. After two boys -- and the boring clothes and hair cuts -- my daughter would wear adorable dresses, with matching tights and giant hair bows. She'd snuggle close, baby doll in her arms, as we read books together. She'd be my "little twin," the two of us dressed to match -- or at least coordinate -- each Mother's Day weekend. A sweet little bundle of hearts and flowers.

In steps reality...

Ellie's orphanage, her first "home."

Our daughter was none of the above. After nine months in an orphanage, one of 60+ girls cared for by a staff of six, rarely cuddled and certainly not fussed over, she wanted nothing to do with dresses, hair bows or cuddling. I'd put the hair bow in and 1.3 seconds later it was gone. When she was old enough, she even asked for them. Still, they came out.

Forget the dresses, too. Anything uncomfortable -- seams, the scratchy lining some dresses have, elastic -- bothered her and she'd cry, wiggle and complain. She seemed reasonably comfortable in one-piece outfits and play clothes without tags. Good-bye frilly dreams.

Don't even get me started on the cuddling. I've blogged before about her challenges. We never got to cuddle her. She didn't fall asleep in my arms until long after her second birthday. She just couldn't handle that much closeness -- instead she'd sit on our laps, as close as possible to our knees, back rigid, facing forward -- no eye contact, thank you very much.

My dreams were shattered. My sweet, beautiful girl was not the human baby doll I expected.

Fast forward six years to this morning. Ellie is a first grader, filled with confidence and giggles. After breakfast, she ran upstairs to get ready for school and came back down carrying the basket of hair bows and a brush. She sat in front of me on the floor while I brushed her hair (she's growing it out for locks of love) and pulled it back into a pony tail. I found the biggest hair bow in the basket and finished my work. She jumped up and spun around, "How's it look, Mommy?" Beautiful, baby girl... Absolutely adorable.

My eyes filled with tears.

Then we prayed and I sent her off to begin another day of learning and fun.

Ellie doesn't remember her struggles. She doesn't know my heartbreak at not being able to snuggle her the way I wanted -- loving her meant letting go of my dreams and accepting her right where she was. She has no idea how I grieved and prayed and fought the system on her behalf. That's okay with me.

God knows. He listened. He answered. He provided the care. The wisdom. The ability to love differently.

Today, she's my cuddly girl. We read her books to her baby dolls (and the dog) together. She loves frilly dresses that flare out when she twirls. And hair bows. And nail polish. She's filled to the brim with hair bows and happiness.

Ellie, Dr. Seuss, Daisy and me

Thank you, God, for your faithfulness. Thank you for my sweet baby girl.

Surviving Rush Hour

photo © 2009 versageek | more info (via: Wylio)

Last week, I had the "privilege" of driving in morning and afternoon rush hour to cart Nathan to and from piano camp. I was supposed to take Ben to golf camp in the city -- same week to save myself some driving -- but he got sick. Instead, I'm driving him this week. (Thankful that the NCSU Golf School was willing to change his camp without added cost. Not thankful that I'm driving in rush hour traffic again.) Yep, another week of back and forth driving to the city. During rush hour.

God can teach a lot to a captive audience in such a situation. He spoke clearly last week, "Stay in your lane, Karen. Just stay in your lane."

Have you noticed how some people zig this way and zag that way, trying to get ahead? I'm talking about drivers here -- they switch lanes non-stop. The "lucky" ones move ahead three or four cars, but that's about it. They just think they're going somewhere. I must admit that I enjoy watching these guys get busted for speeding! I'm not very nice.

Sane drivers stay in their lane. Sometimes they move a little faster. Sometimes they slow down. They move steadily to their destination. With a lot less stress! I learned this lesson quickly -- and spared myself a lot of stress and tension.

That's when God spoke in that sweet whisper, "Stay in your lane. It's true for life, my sweet child." You see, I want to rush ahead. For years, I've patiently (okay, not so patiently) supported my husband, raised my kids and served God in my church. I want to start my life now. Yep, now would be good.

Others pass me by -- in the fast lane. Why not me?

Why not me? Wrong question!

Instead, I should be asking, "What else, God?" What else can I learn? What else do you want me to understand? What else should I do, God, while I wait? 

God's got a good and pleasing plan for my life. I know it's true! His word says, "I know the plans I have for you... plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." (Jeremiah 29:11). Just like a driver who stays sane in rush hour, I need to stay in my lane and focus on the goal -- God's plan. His vision. His destination. 

It's true in rush hour. It's true in life.

Consider it pure joy!

Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.

James 1:2-4

Sometimes I cruise through life, everything clicking along just as it should. Ministry flows smoothly -- great communication, team filled with passion, impact huge! The kids get along -- playing together, supporting one another in word and action. The house is clean. (Ha! Never.)

Without warning everything explodes into a million little pieces. I speak, intending my words to say one thing, but no one hears it that way. Suddenly I'm in conflict with a friend -- or my husband -- and I have no idea how I got here. I misread an email and get hurt. The kids decide they really don't like each other after all, and suddenly I'm in raging maniac referee mode, completely ineffective to nurture them in God's love and grace.

Can you relate? One day, life is great. The next day, you're hanging on by a thread, wondering if you'll survive.

I often remind myself to "consider it pure joy whenever I face a trial of any kind." You know, grit your teeth, girl. Get through this. It's a trial. God's gonna pull you through... My broken toe, for instance, is a trial I'm not really enjoying. It's been three weeks since I broke it and it still hurts immensely. It snapped completely in two, so I know it will take a long time to heal... but I'm not all that good at waiting. I'm frustrated that I can't exercise like I had been. What joy is there in this, I wonder. The verse just doesn't seem to "work" -- I'm still angry, frustrated, hurt.

The comfort doesn't come from the command, though. The comfort comes in the verse that follows: testing leads to perseverence and perseverence leads to spiritual maturity. Ooooooh, now that's something I long for. Spiritual maturity. I know I have a long way to go, but I look forward to the day when miscommunication doesn't make me feel insecure or afraid. I will recognize that miscommunication is simply that. Nothing more. How incredible it would WILL be when my kids' arguments don't suck me in, but instead, God uses my response to lead them closer to spiritual maturity.

Of course, I'll never arrive. I'm human. But I look forward to the day anyway...

Dear God,
I'm amazed that every single trial I face, you already know. You know my heart breaks sometimes. You are there to see me through -- each and every time. Thank you for writing it all down in the Bible so I can find the answers. Thank you for listening to my prayers and guiding me through each situation I face. Forgive me when I forget that you have the answer, instead wallowing in my hurts. Lead me. Guide me. Grow me. Help me attain spiritual maturity - whatever it takes.
In Jesus' name I pray,
Amen

Memorial Box Monday: Patience

A couple weeks ago, I shared the remarkable story of God's provision in a Chinese airport. Perhaps most incredible is that I trusted God. Completely. Yes, I felt panicky, but I knew God would work. He amazed me with His instantaneous provision.

Today's memory comes from that same day. We enjoyed our flight in first class, the food served on real plates, all the beverages we could drink, and the comfortable leather chairs. We arrived safely in Beijing, gathered our luggage and headed to the hotel we would call home for three days. The kids and Rob swam in the indoor pool, enjoying a little downtime. I snapped photos. Then bedtime came.

Most hotel rooms in China, as in much of Europe, are too small to accommodate four guests. Because of that, we requested adjoining rooms. While our rooms adjoined one another, they were not connected. My sons were far too young to sleep in their own hotel room anywhere, so Rob bunked with one and I bunked with the other. We said our good-nights and went our separate ways.

Turning off the lights, I settled into bed and my young son snuggled in beside me. I couldn't sleep. My heart pounded. I tossed and turned. My chest tightened to the point I could barely breathe. Panicked, I called my husband in the next room and told him to come right away.

He woke Nathan, the world's soundest sleeper, and came over. He settled Nathan into the unused rollaway, and crawled into the crowded bed beside me. He held me and I cried. And cried.

For the remainder of our time in Beijing, my kids shared a twin rollaway and my husband stayed close beside me through each night.

You may wonder where is God in this? Isn't Memorial Box Monday about God's provision?

Obviously, I wasn't a shining example of trust in God that night. Twelve hours earlier, God had rescued me from an impossible situation and there I was, blubbering, whining, panicking because my husband was sleeping on the other side of a wall.

God, though, never changed. He was there in that Beijing hotel room, waiting patiently for me to ask for comfort and peace (which I never did), just as I had boldly asked for provision at the airport. I was the problem, not Him.

I could beat myself up about it, but God understands. I was no different than the Israelites. How often did God provide for them: manna, parting the Red Sea, and more. Yet, they whined. They forgot. They took their eyes off Him and got self-righteous. They even considered slavery in Egypt better than freedom in the desert!

Today, I am thankful for a God of infinite patience. That's what this little episode in my life always reminds me of. He waited patiently. When I get too self-focused, taking my eyes off God, this life lesson creeps into my head to remind me to trust Him again. Even in our weakness, God is made strong.

I took a picture of my boys sleeping in that tiny rollaway. I am placing that photo in my Memorial Box to remind me that God waits. Patiently.

Memorial Box Monday started at "A Place Called Simplicity." A friend of mine introduced me to it last week, and I love it! love it! love it!!! Memorial Box Monday provides an opportunity to remember all the good things God has done. Huge, gigantic things and little things that might seem insignificant. God's word is clear: "Cast every care on Me, for I care for you." (1 Peter 5:7).