Day 6, Wednesday

This picture was taken at bedtime last night. I went to bed weeping for this girl and woke doing the same. This is just too hard. To make it worse I was so frustrated with what was on TV this morning. Cosmetic surgery! Eyelash conditioner! This gadget, that gadget! Everyone wants more, we want bigger and better. All this when the children of the world are suffering. I'm starting to understand my son more, who has traveled the world and seen the poverty and need. I am disgusted with our culture of excess.

Okay, enough of that. Look at this precious girl. She is a big girl physically, but so much wants to be a little girl--nurtured and loved. She is calling me Mama now and sits on my lap, holds my hand, comes up behind me and hugs me. Today we got up late again. Everyone is so exhausted. The girls all swam in the little pool on the deck and then drew hopscotch lines on the driveway and played together. Diana knows the game. We all went into the garden and picked beans. Diana is like a bull in the china shop--no finesse, and I wished I knew the Russian word for gentle. I even tried kissing the bean leaves to get the message across. Later we went to the library. She found a Madeline book that really caught her interest and even carried it while we walked to the playground. Diana is a strong girl. She can do those bars where you go hand over hand while you are hanging in the air.

It started to rain so we came home for lunch. I had to make a bank run and my girls didn't want to go--too boring. But Diana did, not knowing what a bank is. She took a lollypop from the basket and I reminded her--Arielle and Liana. She took two more. I walked with her to the candy store next door and she chose three more things. When we got home she hid all the candy behind her back and I was afraid she was trying to hide it from the girls. But no, she wanted to surprise them! They all sat on the couch and watched a video from the library and ate their candy. But Diana was disappointed (and surprised) it wasn't in Russian.

This evening we went to the local pool club with two other families and had a cook-out and let the kids swim. They were all so excited and swam for hours. One of the Russian boys came without his swimsuit. No problem, he stripped down and swam in his underwear and didn't think a thing of it. Diana ate nothing at the picnic but when we got home she ate two hot dogs loaded with onions and cucumbers. Who knew?

It was tough getting the girls to bed tonight. Everyone was overstimulated. I hope they sleep well. Old Mom and Dad are ready to fall over, we're so tired. I am more at peace tonight. My friend Helen called at one of those desperate moments and said she would be there for us to see us through no matter what decision we make. I talked to one of the other host moms at the pool who reminded me we are not responsible for the destiny of these children--God is. Maybe his plan is for us to be part of their future. Maybe not. We just need to be willing to do what he asks. This woman is adopting two of the boys.

Day 5, Tuesday

My heart is heavy tonight. We're halfway through Diana's visit and I'm grieving the loss of her. I love her but I don't think I can parent her. Fred says we are too old and we are concerned about our other girls and the impact on their lives.

The girls slept late today. Diana has decided she doesn't like any of our food and only ate apples and barbeque potato chips today. I took her to the grocery store but the only thing of interest to her were the lollypops at the bank inside.

Another family is here from out-of-state and hosting another girl from Diana's orphanage. They are cooped up in a hotel room so I invited them to come over. Their girl was fine here but the mom says Nadia is extremely difficult. Nadia and Diana were very aggressive with each other. I have never seen any of that from Diana with Arielle or Liana though. When this girl was here, Diana called me Mom. She is very affectionate. She's noticed that I hold my girls' hands when we are in a parking lot or on the street and she wants me to hold hers too.

We went to church again for the VBS. I told Diana through the translation site and she didn't protest so she must have had fun the day before. She seemed to have a great time tonight too. I was mistaken about the t-shirt. She did make one and it was hanging with the others. When I asked about it, I guess she didn't understand.

We had an issue with some half dollar coins Diana had. She wanted me to hold them for her for awhile and then came and got them later. I asked where she got them but of course we didn't understand each other. Then another boy ended up with them. Larisa, the translator, found out somehow and came to me. I had no idea what was going on. It turns out the coins belonged to Arielle! After much discussion the story came out. Arielle had opened her piggy bank and showed them to Diana. I don't know when they ended up in Diana's pocket. She told Larisa Arielle gave them to her. Arielle said she did not. Larisa talked to Diana a long time about trust and lying and how no one in America would like her if she was not honest. She was crying in the middle of craft time at VBS. She was so afraid Arielle wouldn't like her anymore. But of course, Arielle still likes her. Arielle is a good girl.

All the girls just had their baths and again, Diana wanted bedtime prayers in a circle with Papa. Lots of hugs and kisses followed. Diana found a baby doll, wrapped it in a blanket and it is lying between her and Arielle on the floor. She is really a loving girl.

Day 4, Monday

This has been a hectic day. I had a million details going on in my head and I'm not sleeping. Organizing VBS is overwhelming, but tonight was the big night.

The girls slept together and woke together. They filed out to where I was sitting at the computer and all three got their morning hugs. I had work to do so they kind of just hung out together. Not much fun, but that's life. Our normal life is not going places all the time. They rode bikes a little and Liana tried to get Diana to play Polly Pockets or do crafts, but she is not interested. I really think she does not know how to play with toys. Fred took them all food shopping and he came home exhausted. Then they all left for the park and I stayed home to try to get my act together for tonight. When they left in the car Diana gave me a huge hug. She squeezed the breath out of me. I think she is really an affectionate girl but just needed to warm up to us.

Fred came home and said one of the other Russian boys took away Diana's disposable camera and she tackled him. The girls wanted to swim again and put on their suits. Diana decided she wanted to ride bikes instead. I said no, we were leaving at 3:00 to go to camp. I typed this in the translation website. She was angry and went in her room and pouted and took off her swimsuit and didn't swim with the girls. She had an attitude the rest of the afternoon and gave us trouble at church by running outside and wandering the grounds while we were trying to cook. Arielle, the voice of authority, kept track of her, following her around saying, "Nyet! Nyet!" Diana did not want to eat dinner with us but instead ate with the boy from her orphanage who was eating with his family.

The kids received t-shirts designed by my friend Bonnie with the verse, "Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path." There is a big lighthouse on the front and Russian and American flags. They are really nice. During our craft time the kids stepped into a plate of fabric paint and put their footprints on the back of the shirt. They had a great time doing this. After they stepped in paint, of course they had to get their feet washed and my job was to dry their feet with a big towel. All these feet, big ones and little ones, brown Chinese feet, and pale Russian feet. So many children, many adopted, and then here are the ones so in need of a family. After we finished the t-shirts, I realized I had not seen Diana. I don't even know what happened to her t-shirt. She went home without it.

By the time we got home, she was back to the sweet little girl we had a bedtime last night. She played cards with Arielle, wanted to sleep with Arielle again, and wanted to hold hands and pray together and get hugs and kisses again. She called Fred, "Papa."

I don't think we have the energy for this girl. If we were younger. She is deep down a good girl, I believe, but needs a lot of guidance and a firm hand.

Day 3, Sunday

I had to wake the girls for church today. They were so tired. I left Diana in Arielle's Sunday School class and she was not happy, even though another boy was there from her orphanage. She is a very obedient child, but her face expresses how she feels.

Diana knew we would be swimming at 2pm so she was patient and excited. She told me she knew how to swim. We had been invited to the home of a woman I met on-line who has a girl adopted from the Ukraine. Her daughter Olia has only been home a month and was really wanting to speak Russian with someone. Earlier I had talked with the mom, Colleen, and she was so nice and down-to-earth, I liked her immediately, and even more so after I met her in person.

Olia and the girls hit it off right away. Olia is a delightful girl, the same age as Diana. The girls splashed and played and had so much fun. Diana does NOT know how to swim. She is very reckless and fearless and asked several times if she could go in the deep end. Nyet!

Colleen had bought some velvet paint sets for the girls to do. All of them went to the table on the patio and started painting. Suddenly Diana was in tears. Good thing Olia was there to interpret. She said Diana said she loves America but will only be here 10 days. Her school is very bad, she said. I think maybe sitting around the table drawing reminded her of school. So back in the pool!

The girls talked us moms into swimming and then they had even more fun, but were very wild and soaked us. We had planned to just wade a little. I learned the Russian phrase for "Watch me!" because Diana kept saying it over and over. She also wanted the physical contact, me holding her up while she tried to swim. She is a big girl, but is really a little girl inside. The girls went inside and played Barbies a little and Olia did their hair and put perfume on them. Colleen and I talked. She is a special ed teacher and sees kids with RAD and all kinds of emotional problems. She said Diana does not seem to have any of those issues at all and everything she did was appropriate for her age.

Fred had a surprise at home. He had bikes out and filled the blow-up pool with water. The girls were thrilled. Diana rode one of the kids' bikes around the yard and then saw my bike in the shed. She was in awe and, of course, wanted to ride it. Around and around the house she rode with a huge smile on her face. "Watch me!" we heard over and over. Then the girls splashed around in the pool with Diana doing all kinds of silly things because Arielle and Liana were laughing at her. Fred says she was wearing him out just watching her. She is a high energy child. Not at all like Liana or Arielle.

Damien and his girlfriend came over to meet Diana and she jumped up from the dinner table and hid outside. She wouldn't interact with them at all. In fact, she didn't like me inside talking with them and wanted me to come out and watch her on the bike--again.

Finally we got all girls inside and bathed and headed for bed. Arielle is again painting Diana's nails. Suddenly Diana urgently wants to tell me something. She speaks louder and more clearly to help me understand. I'm so sorry I don't. She walked into the living room and began to cry. Poor Victoria, the host mom who speaks Russian, because I called her again. She is so gracious though and said she didn't mind. Diana was crying because she sleeps all alone, she said. She told Victoria there are two girls who get to sleep together and she wants to be with them. So easy to solve this problem!

We all sat together on the couch together in a big family cuddle. Diana wanted me to hold her. Then I let her choose where to sleep. In the bed or on the floor. She chose the floor with Arielle. As I was tucking them in, she motioned for Fred to come in too and we sat on the floor and said bedtimes prayers and kissed and hugged each girl. Oh no, we are falling in love.

Day 2, Saturday

What a day! So many things to talk about and it is so late and I'm ready to collapse! But I want to look back and remember this very special time in our lives.

Diana slept soundly until 9am. The girls couldn't wait for her to wake up and went into her room immediately. Arielle helped her look through all the clothes we have gathered for her and she chose an outfit. They didn't come out for breakfast though so I went to check on them. All three girls were in the bathroom and Arielle was doing their nails!

Diana loves fruit. I put a basket on the table and she eats a piece every time she walks in the room. She is so thin, but very tall for 10. Right after breakfast she pointed to the yard and she ran in and out all morning. I watched out the window and she was smiling as she was swinging.

Using the great website my brother sent, (I'll check out yours too, June), I told Diana we would go shopping for clothes and shoes. The flip-flops I bought her are too small. She got ready to go by doing more nail painting, applying all the little girlie things that Grandma sent--including red heart stick-on earrings, and then packed her little purse with it all.

We went to Kohl's and she chose several things, holding them out to me to see if it was okay to get. She stopped at a display for watches and picked one up. I let her get it and my two girls didn't say a word and never asked for anything. We had a funny moment when Diana was trying on a swimsuit. It was a one piece with a strap down the center of the back. She opened the door to show it to me and had it on backwards. The strap was down the center of her chest with everything else exposed! She knew it was funny and we all laughed and I showed her how to turn it around.

She seemed very agitated when we left Kohl's. I asked in Russian if she was okay. She said nyet and motioned for me to make a phone call. She is very frustrated when I don't understand and wants me to call someone. When we got home I called the translator. It seems Diana just likes to know what is happening next. The translator got on to her, telling her to go with the flow and not worry about what was going on. Through this woman, I told Diana we would go to see one of the other boys at 3:00. She is very anxious to be around other Russian speakers. She pointed to her new watch several times to remind me it was close to 3.

Helen came over with her girls to meet Diana and the girls again played in the yard. For the first time Diana was trying to make contact with Fred by pretending to ride a little bike into his legs, teasing him. I was enjoying Helen's visit and then remembered we would later have guests and my house was a mess! As she often does, Helen bailed me out--cleaning up and cutting up watermelon and frosting the cake. When we were getting ready to leave, I combed Liana's hair, then Arielle's hair, and then...I looked over to Diana and she got up and let me comb hers too. I had longed to do that. She has silky, pretty hair.

We went to our friend's house for a dinner with the Russian administrator and the translator. They turned out to be very enjoyable people. We first took them to a park and the kids had the best time picking wild raspberries. They ate so much we thought surely they would get sick. We went back for a cook-out at our friends house and the kids jumped on the trampoline and rode skateboards on their front porch. Arielle and Liana had their feelings hurt when Diana chose to ride with the boy Sergei in our friend's car instead of with them. Diana is very talkative and really needs to have people understand her.

We went back to our house for dessert. It was a delightful evening. The Russian man, Vladimir, right away sat at the piano and began to sing and play. Then the translator played and sang and tried to engage Diana and Sergei with what I guess was a popular Russian song. Then all the kids ran outside in the near dark and caught lightening bugs in baby food jars. Even Vladimir walked around in the dark helping them. Larissa, the translator, is a lively woman who loves to talk and laugh. She seems to really love the children too.

Everyone left and without being told Diana took a shower and got into bed. The light was on though and she was playing music on Liana's toy tape recorder. After a little bit she got up and went into my room and motioned she was going to sleep. Fred reached out and gave her a hug, and I did too. She smiled, tentatively, sweetly. It was our first real connection. I put a band-aid on her scrape, put cream on a mosquito bite and checked her hair for ticks. Mom stuff.

The translator says she is acting like a tough girl because she has to protect herself. She doesn't want to let anyone close yet. I was thinking the same thing. Can she allow anyone in? We'll see.

Day 1, Friday night

We went to church at 7:30 to await the arrival of the children. They arrived about 10, bedraggled, exhausted, some in tears. We saw Diana right away. She looked like she wanted to be anywhere but standing in the gym at our church. The translator made introductions for each family and then each left with a child. We were last to get Diana. She didn't want to look at us. She didn't smile and seemed to want to hurry out of there. Not a peep out of her on the way home. We played a Russian music CD but the trip seemed so long. The girls took her to Liana's room that we prepared for her. She looked around it curiously. Liana gave her a Webkinz we bought, a little dog, and she said thank you to Liana in Russian. We took her into the kitchen. "Nyet," she didn't want to eat or drink. She did smile a little when she saw her picture on our refrigerator. I showed her the bathroom and asked if she wanted a shower. She said yes and took one. She got into bed. Immediately she got out and started asking me something. Of course I didn't understand. She seemed frustrated I didn't know what she was talking about so I chickened out and called Victoria, one of the other host moms who speaks Russian. Sorry, Victoria! It is 11 at night. Diana was concerned about tomorrow. She wanted to get together with the Russian kids. She's just so uncomfortable here. She's in bed now but I think I heard her sniffling. I hate she is crying. I went back in to say good-night and put an extra blanket on her. This is hard. Poor girl, she must be so frightened.

Day 1, Friday morning

I will try to write faithfully these next ten days so I have a record of this life-changing event in our family's life. My words will be unedited and uncut, so please don't expect much--except honesty!

Diana comes tonight. I talked to a friend of mine yesterday who was on our second China trip. We were talking about the day we met our daughters in a government office in Guangzhou. Early in the morning we gathered to wait for our babies who were coming by buses across the countryside. This was THE DAY we had longed for, the culmination of an almost two year wait. Finally we would have our precious new daughters.

Parents talked among themselves nervously, cameras ready to capture the very first moment when we would see our babies. In our group, the babies were coming from three different orphanages, so we didn't know which ones would be coming first. Suddenly there was a commotion in the hall and we all jumped up in excitement. The first group arrived! Our facilitator announced the name of the city. No, not our baby. My mom beside me, we watched the new parents meet their children. Crying filled the room, the silent tears of the happy families and the frightened screams of the babies. The parents with empty arms filled the time waiting by watching the new families, but our senses were heightened as we anxiously awaited the next group to come. More babies! A lot this time, all dressed in matching sweaters. They were adorable, but my baby was not among them. The thrill, the letdown, the thrill, the letdown! The last group of parents were so on edge we were practically shaking. Finally, finally, our babies arrived. We surrounded the nannies carrying our precious daughters, our arms aching to take them. I recognized my Liana immediately. But our first meeting was not as I imagined. Liana cried for two hours, not at all happy with her new mom. My friend and I shared our first impressions of that momentous day 6 and a half years ago.

Will this be the day I meet my third daughter? I'm reliving that first day with Liana and also remembering the day I met Arielle. I was in tears as I prayed this morning, as the joy and excitement of those memories washed over me. But today is sad in a way, because the difference is that in China there was no turning back. The baby I reached out to take was my daughter forever. This time I have to make a decision. This child will break my heart. She will return to Russia after 10 days, no matter what. I will cry because I know she is not right for our family and we will be sending her away. Or, I will cry because she IS my daughter but I won't be able to keep her yet.

Right now I am very anxious about our first meeting. All the host families will gather in our church tonight to wait for the vans bringing the children from JFK. What will happen? Will the children be scared? How will we comfort them when we can't speak their language? Will they like us? Will we like them? What will we do when we first get back home? It will be late yet we need to explain bathrooms and baths and feed them and show them their beds. So many unknowns!

One thing I do know. Our Father in heaven loves these children. He has purpose for them and we are privileged to be part of his plan. We will love them and care for them no matter what, because he does.

Diagnosis: NDD

The past few weeks have been focused on Diana's visit. We had plenty of other issues to contend with but always the imminent arrival of the Russian children has overshadowed everything else, in good and bad ways.

My friend Connie and I have shared our joys and our fears. We've laughed together trying out our Russian phrases and we've marveled seeing God's hand at work in this project. It's been simply amazing how we have connected with people who have the same passion for parent-less children around the world. So many of you have helped by providing all kinds of wonderful gifts for the kids to take back with them to the orphanage. My mom has supplied Diana with clothing and interesting crafts and toys and "girlie things." My mother is much more creative and thoughtful than I am. Many people, some I don't even know, have given bags and bags of clothing. And the reason strangers are donating gifts is because you are getting the word out!

Others have stepped in to help me with coordinating the Vacation Bible School. It's become a monumental task because the people attending keeps growing. I'm feeling stressed and rushed and I'm having trouble sticking with a task because I keep thinking about something else that needs to be done. I have to prepare a Russian meal for 65 people the first night! I was trying to figure out how that was physically possible when my dear friend who manages a food service business made a spontaneous phone call. She just gave the word and now a professional chef will prepare Beef Stroganoff for us all. This is a huge load lifted from my shoulders. I am so grateful to her and to each of you who are partnering with us.

This summer we've also had some fun. Fred bought the girls beautiful bikes three years ago. Arielle and Liana were thrilled with the flashy colors, the glitzy streamers floating from the handlebars, and the matching baskets to hold their favorite stuffed animals. But actually riding the bikes was another story. These bikes came equipped with sturdy training wheels and the girls did not want them removed, even Arielle at age 9. But one warm day Fred took the training wheels off, never to be replaced. Arielle overcame her fears and rode down the path at our favorite park amidst cheers from the rest of the family. Now Arielle and I (on my new Christmas bike) fly around the park trails. What a joy to share this time with my daughter!

Liana is only 7, but more serious about bike riding than Arielle ever was. Fred, with infinite patience, methodically walks the circular track with Liana, around and around, stooping to keep her steady, pulling her from the grass when she veers off, righting her when she wobbles, reaching to place her feet back into position. He never seems to tire of it.

One recent day as Arielle and I rode, we were delighted with the sky, a deep blue with cotton puff clouds. The sun warmed our backs and arms as we passed fields of buttercups, black-eyed susans and Queeen Anne's lace. We practiced our Russian as we rode, "Be careful, as-ta-rozh-na!" I shouted. Arielle responded, "Yes, of course, da, ka-nyesh-na." We laughed at our silliness but I am thrilled with her skills in so quickly picking up a new language. We heard bird calls unfamiliar to us and craned our necks to see where these strange creatures were perched. The coolness of the woods beckoned and we rode on. The fragrance of wild roses washed over us at one turn. Deeper into the thicket of trees the din of the traffic faded like the din of our busy lives and time was of no consequence anymore. We were living in the moment. It's a great place to be. Then off in the distance we saw a tiny girl on a tiny bike riding alone. No, a man was trotting along behind to keep up. It was Liana and Fred! Liana was riding without help!

All of us returned home refreshed. In the Philadelphia Inquirer was an article by Michael Smerconish. He was discussing a book by Richard Louv called Last Child in the Woods: Saving Our Children from Nature-Deficit Disorder. Supposedly, "there is a recent body of research suggesting that exposure to nature can be a form of medicine for afflictions such as ADD, stress or depression." He went on, "...children today are being raised disconnected from nature...gone are the days of forts in the backyard...today children grow up shackled to computers and TVs."

Well, I believe it. Our bike hike was good medicine for the whole family. Every time we take the time to get outdoors we are transformed. Why don't we do this more often? I truly am afflicted with Nature Deficit Disorder. But it's easy to cure. God created this wonderful nature. It's medicine easy to swallow.

"You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and the hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands." Isaiah 55:12.

Update

Tragedy was left hanging in the air with my last post. But after our world gets shaken up, the pieces settle and life goes on. Here is an update on those friends.

The homeschooling mom with cancer? She recovered so quickly she amazed all the doctors. Her disease had not spread as far as was predicted. But she is now faced with tough decisions about her treatment plan. She is home with her family, getting stronger every day, and the church responded with love and tangible help.

My friend with the spot on her lung? After numerous tests and doctor consultations it was ruled insignificant. But she faced her fears and came to the conclusion that God is on his throne and in control of her life and she would accept his plans to go wherever he led.

Liana's little friend with Lyme? She is back to her sweet self. Liana adores her and will be so sad when this child returns to Colorado.

The young woman with custody woes? The baby's father insisted on taking his young son for a few days. The baby had an illness and that gave Dad second thoughts about his parenting skills. Maybe he will rethink what he really wants, a relationship with his son or retaliation against his former wife.

My conclusion is that events are usually not as bad as they first appear. Our fears magnify the problem. Yes, sometimes we have to go through unpleasantness or outright suffering before our lives get back to normal. Sometimes it takes a long time before the broken pieces fall back into place and sometimes they never land back into the same place. But people are resilient and for the most part, hopeful.

Where is God in all this? When bad things happen, we tend to blame God, because he could have intervened and prevented it. Some prayers are answered, some not. (Personally, I think more prayers DO get answered than not.) My favorite author, Philip Yancey says, "In answering prayers, God normally relies on human agents." He quotes another author in his book Prayer: Does It Make Any Difference? "A theist believes in a God in heaven whereas a Christian believes in a God in heaven who is also physically presnt on this earth inside of human beings...God is still present, as physical and as real today as God was in the historical Jesus. God still has skin, human skin, and physically walks on this earth just as Jesus did."

Have you ever been the answer to someone's prayer? When we pray, "God, please help my friend," maybe God is waiting for us to provide that help. Maybe our prayer should always be, "Lord, may my heart be broken by what breaks your heart." Then with our broken heart, we take action to help heal the hurts.

As I've learned from my son Dominic, we live in a country of undeserved privilege. Our personal problems are real but we need to keep a right perspective. Be thankful and grateful.

The weekend news

In one weekend the realities of the world we live in became remarkably clear. It's easy to push those truths aside, prevent them from entering our thoughts, until bad things happen to people we love.

One friend called to tell me a man she knows died suddenly. He left behind a wife and three children. This family had shared her joy of meeting their children in China. Now my friend would drive hours to share the grief. Then, a close friend much younger than me is having health problems. Spots were found on her lungs and she must undergo tests. Another young mom told me of her court date to find out if she has to send her one-year-old son to another state to stay with his vindictive father for a week each month. On Saturday night a friend called to tell me her little daughter had a raging fever from a tick bite.

I went to church Sunday morning and heard the news of another homeschooling mom, my hero with five adoptive children. She was taken to the hospital the day before with unusual symptoms. Before Sunday ended, an e-mail informed me she has invasive kidney cancer. I stared at the computer screen in disbelief, re-reading the news over and over. How can this be? Sorrow upon sorrow weighed heavily on me.

Somehow we think we might be spared horror and grief. If only we do all the right things, pray enough or have enough faith. We know that isn't true, really, but we play these games in our head. Just as God's gifts are given to all, we all suffer from living in this world. We know tragedy can strike anyone. But deep down we have this "it can't happen to me" mentality. I admit I was angry at God. How could he do this to people I love, to people who love him? Where is he in all this pain and fear?

It is a week later and my thoughts have turned around. I was talking to my friend who is partnering with us in hosting the Russian children this summer. I poured my outrage right on top of her head. She had no answers--who does? But she listened. My friend took me into her garden because she wanted to give me some roses. Several huge, old rose canes wound around beneath an arched trellis, trailing up and over it, the branches so laden with clusters of pale pink roses that they bowed over the top, ripe to be picked. Connie told me a bird had nested in the dense thicket and I searched for it. Finally I saw it, a nest so close I could reach out and touch, a small red tail peeping out. Connie handed me the roses as she cut them, the blossoms soft and delicate, the thorny stems ripping my hands. When she was finished she said simply, "God is good." My stinging cuts are a small price to pay to fill my kitchen with the heavenly scent of roses.

It seems such a contradiction. God is good? After I see the pain in all these hurt people? But I know it to be true. God did not create a world of sickness and evil. People have done that. We've polluted the air, the water, the food. Who knows where disease comes from? Self-centered people wanting only revenge don't care about a baby who needs his mother more than anything. Deer encroach on our yards, transferring disease, because we've taken their land away. We live in a world in turmoil and chaos.

My friend with cancer? Her adult daughter started a blog of prayers for her. A legion of faithful friends have stepped in with tangible help of childcare, transportation, house cleaning, and food for the family. An army of volunteers have signed on to cook for her family well into August. An avalanche of support has poured into her life. We can't fix her cancer, but we can be there for her. Jesus loves and cares for each of us through the hands of other people. She knows she is not forsaken by her friends nor by her God. Sometimes in our tragedies we see what others never will--the sacred presence of God.

If tomorrow I was diagnosed with an incurable disease would I rail against God and the unfairness of life? Maybe--for a short time. But then looking back I would see the gifts I've been given, the love I've had--my good mother, my precious children, my husband, siblings, dear friends, blessings upon blessings that have been showered upon me from the time I was a tiny child until now and I would be able to say with total honesty, "God is good."

Deep sea fishing

Memorial Day weekend my brother came to visit. We haven't been together in two years and it was wonderful to see his face. Friends who share our daily lives refresh and encourage us. Old friends who evolve into family members are few and precious. Then there are the actual members of your family who share your memories, your parents, your history, and in the case of my brother, we also share our faith.

My brother has a deep, contagious laugh that sets everything right. He's silly and fun, but he's also caring and sensitive and generous. I so admire him and look up to him, even though he is the little brother I used to push in a stroller and pat to sleep in his crib.

We went to church together Sunday morning. The evening before we talked a little of our faith journey--where God has us now and what we are learning, each of us embarking on a new level of trust and anticipation of what God desires for our lives. The passage we studied in church was from Luke 5.

When Jesus had finished speaking, he said to Simon, "Put out into deep water, and let down the nets for a catch." Simon answered, "Master, we've worked hard all night and haven't caught anything. But because you say so, I will let down the nets." When they had done so, they caught such a large number of fish that their nets began to break. Vs. 4-6.

The fisherman realizes he's had an encounter with the living God. When Simon Peter saw this, he fell at Jesus' knees and said, "Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man!" Simon will never be the same. Scripture says he was astonished at the catch of fish. Another version says he was seized with amazement. Our summer venture has taken on the same quality--surreal amazement that we are in this place as we consider what the future holds.

When Jesus saw Simon Peter's reaction he says, "Don't be afraid; from now on you will catch men." And Jesus responds to me the same way when he sees my fear, my doubts, and my insecurities over my own ability to do what he's called me to do. "Don't be afraid; from now on you will..." Do what, Lord? I don't yet know, but that's okay.

Jesus says to us all, "Put out into deep water, and let down your nets for a catch." Without fully understanding, even if it might seem foolish at the time, we obey. Can we trust him for the catch of a lifetime? Can we trust him even if he leads us out to deep water where we've never gone before? What might fill our net that will change the course of our lives?

We sang a song that morning:

"Go to deep waters, deep waters, where only faith will let you go,
Go out to deep waters, deep waters,
Harvests of faith will overflow."

A whirlwind of emotions

We have been swiftly moving along so Diana can get her visa and plane ticket. We had to request criminal record checks and child abuse clearances for Fred and me, a social worker came to prepare a homestudy, and we had to get notarized signatures and fill out forms and more forms. And money. We were told by the coordinator of our program not to let our finances prevent us from hosting a child. Our church would help, she said. We were counting on it. The families have to pay for the homestudy, a part of the plane fare, and buy clothing for the child. Then we had a most humbling experience.

Originally when I first had this vision of our small group working together to care for an orphan child, I thought we would each do our part. Some would help financially, some would provide for the physical care of the child, others would network to find a home for the child. When our friends committed to host a boy, I thought we could all chip in cover the expenses. (I haven't yet explained the breakup of our small group, but it is not there to support us or them anymore.) Then, this same family hosting Sergei gave us a very large check along with a card with these beautiful words: "We would be honored to put this in the hand that's reaching out to Russia." Their own hands are also reaching out to Russia! But they insisted on helping us. I have never known such generosity. Fred and I did not how to respond to this. It is still amazing to me and such a testimony to their faith and their character that acts on that faith.

My friend and I have been keeping each other excited by talking about "our" kids who are coming and all the fun activities we have planned and maybe even the remote possibility of these children becoming part of our families. Then one day last week I asked our coordinator about obtaining some additional information on Diana. We'd seen her video and had one picture, but that was it. Could we find out her background? Because another family had originally chosen Diana, our coordinator had forgotten she hadn't passed on the information to us. So she e-mailed me with the documents--the family circumstances that brought her to the orphanage and her medical report. I was stunned and crushed and heartbroken for this precious child when I read it. She was born into neglect and poverty and tragedy. Her medical report is so awful I feared to bring her into my home around my little girls. We cannot adopt her! Her problems are too big! I was devastated and so sad for this child.

Now that was a week ago. Since then I've been reading about Russian adoption. I've heard many horror stories and I've also learned Russia sometimes embellishes the medical reports. I'm well aware of attachment disorders and medical issues that come from alcoholism. Fred, my dear wonderful husband, is not worried. He says, "We'll just wait and see." My heart has changed too in that I just have this intense desire to wrap my arms around Diana and hug her tight. I explained some of her history to my girls so they would be compassionate and patient with Diana if they witness disturbing habits or behavior. This has brought out some discussion about their own pasts which has been good. We need to confront it from time to time and also it gave me a chance to explain vast differences in the reasons children in China and in Russia come into the orphanages.

I was cleaning clutter off our dining room table and came across a little note written in Liana's handwriting. It said simply, "I love Diana." My tender-hearted little girl, after knowing the realities of this Russian girl's life, is more than willing to give her a chance. Both of my daughters are ready to embrace her. Fred and I are too.

Diana

With the Russian children coming, the main thrust these past few weeks was to find host families for them. They cannot come unless matched with a family about two months prior to their arrival. Plane tickets must be bought; visas must be obtained. We set up an information table in our church lobby but because tables are often set up for all kinds of events and ministries, people tend to just walk by. We had to use stronger tactics to get attention. When someone passed that I knew even casually, I grabbed them by the arm and drew them to our table. It was amazing to see the response. It's one thing to ask people to take some unnamed orphan into their homes and quite another for them to flip through a photo album with the faces of real children. Many people volunteered to help with humanitarian aid that will be sent back, to participate in the Vacation Bible School we have planned, or to talk to friends who might be considering adoption. We also found some host families.

As for our family personally, Fred and I also looked at the pictures. The coordinator of the program wanted families with a serious interest in adoption. We don't have the means for that. And our ages! We wanted to step aside and let other couples with more resources and more years left to volunteer. Two sisters caught my eye though. They were the same ages as our girls. But they disappeared from the album. This project is going on simultaneously in other states and pictures are shared. Children's photos would come and go and be replaced with other faces. There were many boys, several sibling groups, and only older girls. We waited, memorized their faces, prayed for them, and pondered where God was leading us.

One day our coordinator e-mailed me with a picture of an 11-year-old boy named Misha. Would we host him? She hadn't asked us about any other child. Why him? He was an impish boy with a cute smile. We can't take a boy--no room in our small house. On a whim, I sent his picture to a good friend of mine. She never mentioned adopting again, but somehow this boy seemed right for her family. To our delight and surprise, this family decided to host him. Through their example, we considered the children who were left as time was running out.

Finally I asked the coordinator if any single girls (not in sibling groups) were left. Only one, she said. An almost 13-year-old named Oksana. I remembered her from the photos. A plain, blonde girl with glasses. She reminded me of me at that age. Fred and I said yes, we will take her. We met at our friend's house one evening to see videos of the children and to sign paperwork. It turned out Misha was taken! But our friends were interested in another adorable boy named Sergei. The coordinator showed us Oksana's video and I was very drawn to this child and her unfortunate circumstances that brought her to the orphanage. We were also shown another girl's video. I thought only one girl was left. But supposedly this girl had been chosen by another couple who later changed their minds. However, we were committed to Oksana.

The next morning the coordinator called me. Oksana was gone! She was going to Texas to stay with a family that wanted to adopt her. We bond so quickly with a photo. Ask anyone who has adopted from China about how we cling to those tiny photos. I couldn't believe how this news about Oksana struck me. "Our" girl was gone. I was thrilled she would have a home but I thought it might be with us. There was still the other girl. Time was running out for these kids. We said yes again. Is this the child God intended for us all along? Her name is Diana. She is 10-years old and has big blue, sad eyes.

Please pray for her and for all these children. Negotiating over children, choosing children. The whole process makes me uneasy. But these are real kids with real lives, children without homes or families. Children loved by the same God who loves and cares for us. They will be turned out of the orphanages around age 15 when their government ceases to provide for them any longer. There are statistics on what happens to these orphans as they grow to be adults. It is horrifying.
Friends and family--we need your urgent prayers. Pray that we can discern where God is leading. Pray for Diana and for this program and all the other children.

Russia!

We've had major upheavals in our lives the past month, some good and some bad. So many things are swirling around in my head I can't think straight and despite these events, daily life goes on. It's time I organized my thoughts and what better forum than this blog? Besides, I want to let all you friends and family members know so you can pray for us!

As I've written about previously, these past few months I've been impressed to "prepare with prayer" for whatever God wants to do with our lives. Fred and I want to be "useful to the Master, prepared to do any good work." We want our life work to be permanent. "Give permanence to the work of our hands." I was in awe of the North Carolina woman who opened her home and her life to two boys from Liberia. Our church was offered an opportunity to host orphan children from Columbia and we saw that as a way to get our whole Bible study involved, to work together toward a common goal, some contributing financially, some with time, one with the physical care of the child. That program fizzled out. So we have been waiting. Then along came the Lighthouse Project.

When it didn't look like the Columbian program would work out, our church was given the opportunity to work with an organization that brings Russian orphans to stay with host families for 10 days. The hope is that the host family will adopt the child or else be an advocate for that child and try to find him or her permanent home. We decided we would take a girl between the ages of our girls, or younger, if one was available. With excitement we waited for the children who were selected to come. Finally we saw their pictures. Disappointment. No boys, only older girls. The only young children were in a sibling group. We decided we would not host but I offered to help promote the program and to coordinate a Vacation Bible School for the children when they are here. So how did it come about that we are now hosting an older child and considering adopting again? That can only be explained by the work of the Holy Spirit.

My window of writing time is gone, so this will have to wait. But I have much more to tell you!
Russia was not anywhere on our radar screen and yet now we are reading and preparing and submersing our lives in a new culture and a new people group, just like we did preparing for our Chinese children. Interestingly, our "theme" in our Bible study this year was the verse in Isaiah 54, "Enlarge the place of your tent, stretch your tent curtains wide, do not hold back..." God is surely enlarging our tent!

Winter is over!

I used to hate winter. I plodded through with a cold gloom over my soul. But life becomes more wondrous the older I get, and through my daughters' eyes, every season is magical. After the hustle of Christmas, we longed for the time to hibernate. We played marathon board games and sorted through scrapbook pictures and sewed doll clothes. I loved opening the heavy iron doors of our woodstove and piling another log on the red coals. We roasted marshmallows and hot dogs and the girls cheered in delight anytime a flake of snow fell from the sky. Then we shoveled that snow until our hands and feet were numb and we built wobbly snowmen. I watched the girls disappear into the woods when Fred took them on hiking adventures and made hot chocolate for their return. These cold months Liana learned to read and Arielle studied adverbs and decimals in our cozy cave of a classroom.

The birds came back from wherever they winter to roost again in the bamboo grove, pests that they are. Spring was late in coming, but even during an unexpected ice storm we heard the birds chattering among themselves and knew warm days were coming soon. We burned the last log and celebrated our first bowl of ice cream out on the deck. The pussywillow swelled and dropped its fuzzy bundles. We carried the furniture from the shed, and the balls and bikes came out. The girls now sit high up in their fort on top of the swingset for hours, or they play hopscotch on the chalk drawings in the driveway. School is now a chore to endure until they are released to run through the grassy yard.

In comforting predictability the seasons of the year cycle around. Not so the seasons of our lives. These days will never come again. In regret, I think of years not fully lived, discounted or dismissed. Years with my little boys that passed so quickly, never to be recaptured. Fred jokingly told our ancient cat, "This may be your last summer!" Some summer will be my last--and yours. Each season, each day, is a gift. Enjoy!

"So teach us to number our days, that we may present to you a heart of wisdom...let the favor of the Lord be upon us; and give permanence to the work of our hands." Psalm 90:12, 17.

Unnamed Saturday

In the frantic pace of life, it's all too easy to push ahead, never finding time for reflection or connection, much less actual communion with God. I so much wanted to touch Jesus this week, but I seem to be in an elliptical orbit around the Son, too often at the far end.

We planned to go to church the Thursday before Easter, but it didn't work out. That whole cold, windy, snowy day, I felt as if a black cloud had descended. Maybe we would do our own little remembrance at home, to at least make the occasion meaningful to the girls. So we read scripture by candlelight, improvised communion with a rice cracker and pomegranate juice and even washed each other's feet. We tried singing a hymn, Fred and I terribly off-key. Arielle loved this particular song but had never heard it before, so she wondered what it would sound like if sung properly. She told me her brother Dominic knew how to play songs on the internet, so couldn't we try to find it?

We searched and couldn't find a good version of this song, but we found many others. For the next hour we watched youtube and joined with others in singing songs of worship. A far cry from the reverent setting of the church? Not at all. As we sat in front of the computer and I heard my daughters' lovely, sweet voices raised in praise to God, I don't think even the angels in heaven could sound more beautiful. Then it happened--peace. Quiet and gentle as a whisper, peace beyond comprehension dispersed the dark cloud. Jesus came close, like a shooting star piercing through human experience, and we all caught a glimpse of him.

Arielle earlier pointed out that we have names for particular days of this season--Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Easter. She said, "What about Saturday? What's that day called?" The nameless Saturday, wedged between the sorrow of death and the joy of resurrection. We live between what Jesus accomplished on the cross and the hope of heaven one day. We see the suffering in the world, the violence, wars, devastating disease and rampant evil. Like Jesus' disciples after he died, we run and hide, lock our doors and hope that evil will not find us. We long for Sunday.

Jesus could have conquered the world the day he rode into Jerusalem on a donkey, but instead he chose to die. The Father watched as his son was arrested, beaten and murdered. God's restraint in such a tragic world doesn't make sense at times. Why doesn't he intervene more in this mess we humans have made? Is Jesus the kind of King we want? Wouldn't a magic genie-type be more desirable?

"We live on Saturday, the day with no name. What the disciples experienced in small scale--three days, in grief over one man who had died on a cross--we now live through on a cosmic scale. Human history grinds on, between the time of promise and fulfillment...It's Saturday on planet earth; will Sunday ever come? That dark, Golgothan Friday can only be called Good because of what happened on Easter Sunday, day which gives a tantalizing clue to the riddle of the universe. Easter opened up a crack in a universe winding down toward entropy and decay, sealing the promise that someday God will enlarge the miracle of Easter to cosmic scale." (Philip Yancey in The Jesus I Never Knew.)

In the meantime, I rejoice to know Jesus is close enough to reach out and touch. It's enough for now. I wait with unshakeable faith for the day all mysteries will be solved.

Texas night

Our family was invited to a fundraiser at a small, old church attended by one of Fred's co-workers. The co-worker plays in a band that would be performing, and we would get to enjoy an all-you-can-eat chili cook-off. Admittedly, I rode to the church with Fred and the girls with an attitude of, "I can tolerate this for a few hours." I was far from excited or even interested.

We drove out of our suburban neighborhood into a much more rural area so I wasn't surprised to find country folk staring curiously at our little family when we walked into their church. The fellowship hall was decorated in a wild west theme and we lined up to accept our bowls of chili, nacho chips, and home-baked desserts, and then sat down with Fred's friends. The chili was surprisingly good, but I settled in for what I thought would be mindless small talk and amateurish entertainment. God forgive me.

The band members, about eight men and women in their fifties and sixties with a couple of younger ones thrown in the mix, gave a disclaimer at the start of their show. They normally do not play country-western or rock music but had practiced for several weeks for this event. The money raised from their Texas Night would support a youth mission trip. This musical group normally plays contemporary worship music on Sunday mornings. I gave them credit for their efforts in working hard to bring this event together. I decided to sit back, listen, and learn from these kind people.

The band started with "Long Tall Texan" to get everyone in the mood. It reminded me of our time in Mustang, Oklahoma and the Bean Suppers cooked by the local firemen on the 4th of July. We would listen to live music broadcast over loud speakers so all the people in the park could enjoy it while they ate their beans and and waited for the fireworks. I could have stayed forever in Oklahoma. That simple life suited me perfectly. As the music played, I thought back to those days when my boys were little, days as wide and endless as the rim of the earth that you can see in every direction under the vast, cloudless sky.

Next the band played "Proud Mary." I was transported back to 1969 and the Mississippi River Festivals of my teenage days, lying in the grass with thousands of other kids, listening to the classic rock bands belting out the cries of our generation. I noticed these band members here tonight seemed to really get into this music. They rattled and rolled and sang with enthusiasm and maybe even with a faraway look in their eyes. As they continued to play, each song evoked old memories that began a slide show in my mind. Amazingly, I was having fun, sharing a moment with these fellow old-timers.

Toward the end of the set the gray-haired lead guitarist came down from the stage and churned his arms in time to "Locomotion." Yes, he was inviting us to follow. Old folks, little ones, parents and teens, linked arms to waists and strutted around the fellowship hall in time to the music, laughing all the time. Our train wove in and out of corridors, into the kitchen, back and forth and around again to the hall. The girls were delighted to see Mom and Dad acting so silly. They were equally thrilled to see us slow dance to Eric Clapton's "You Look Wonderful Tonight." All my years have culminated in this place, secure in the arms of my one true love.

I watched the band the rest of the night with new respect. Each of us has traveled a long journey. Life has been good, sad, tragic and wonderful. It doesn't matter where we've been. It's where we are now that counts. But in part, the past made us who we are today. The old rockers now sing praise songs. The secrets of life, hidden from view when I was younger, have been unveiled. Relationships fail, children grow up, parents die, and God is always there to pull us up out of the muck and mire of foolish choices. The journey begins slow and steady but as we near the end it gains momentum until we are racing at breakneck speed, all the while trying desperately to slow down. All along the way, God surprises us with gifts of joy. Life is rich and full and precious because of its brevity.

"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven, a time to be born and a time to die...God has made everything beautiful in its time. Ecclesiastes 3.

Touching the mountain

I read a story about people with dying brains. Painters can paint spectacular pictures and writers can write with unusual clarity. Not that my brain is necessarily dying, but my memories are becoming sharper the older I get. They haunt me in the dark, sleepless hours as I try to make sense of them.

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My dad said, "I bet you can't touch that mountain." Of course I could. The massive rock jutted up vertically from the flat desert floor. I ran fast toward it, arms outstretched to touch its stone face warmed by the hot sun. But it seemed I was running in place. The mountain loomed huge in front of me, yet it stayed just inches away, taunting me. I ran faster and faster and then looked back at my dad, tiny now so far away. But the mountain got no closer. I didn't understand, and my dad was laughing at me.

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It must have been a trick of light and landscape I still don't understand, but some mountains in southern Arizona do look close enough to touch. Still, they are so far away a child by herself could never run to reach them. I often think of that incident. Images of my childhood surface at unexpected times. The wildness of the desert was always frightening to me. Cactus threatened every step. Rattlesnakes lurked under every rock. The scorching sun itself could kill you. Once my dad left me alone in a sandy gully while he tracked some javelinas. I heard the furtive scurrying of the creatures that surrounded me and I waited fearfully for his return. Was the desert really so scary and uncertain, or was it life itself?

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I think I remember trying to run to the mountain because I had been tricked. Over a lifetime my dad showed me I would never touch the mountain--not any mountain. He made me know I was a foolish, useless child. My dad has been gone for 20 years now. I've forgiven him, I think. But how do you really know when memories come unbidden and startling, as you re-live events from the long ago?

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Healing has come in slow measures because of another Father who has never left me alone. Because of Him, I've touched many mountains, even His holy mountain. "...forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on..." (Philippians 3:13, 14.) Maybe forgetting once and for all means wrestling with the memories and finding purpose in the past.

A small start

We made a quick run to the library because Arielle had ordered a book we needed to pick up. Liana immediately ran off to find all her favorite stories that we've already read a dozen times. Arielle searched the shelves for more Nancy Drew mysteries as I debated with the librarians about whether the upcoming storm would leave us with a foot of snow. (Actually, the storm brought ice that left people stranded in their cars on major highways for 24 hours.)

We checked out our books and started out the door. One of the librarians called out to me, "You homeschool, don't you?" She led me to a woman who just moved here and was looking for a homeschooling group. This woman, Gretchen, had just driven from Colorado with her four small children in order to join her husband who is working a temporary job in the area. We discussed homeschooling stuff--the lack of a local social group to join but the co-op at our church where children take P.E., art, and music. Her children gathered around, two of the girls the ages of mine and two little ones.

We talked a few minutes more and then I knew what I should do. But I hesitated. My house was a mess. We'd just finished school and had no time yet for chores. Fred was working late and I had a stress-free afternoon and evening planned--a bit of cleaning, piano practice for the girls, an easy dinner, and maybe even time to work on my quilt. It was tempting to ignore the still, small voice. My closest friends know that hospitality is very difficult for me. And what about these four kids? Were they going to run rampant through my house destroying what little order I have left?

But I followed through. "Do you want to come back to my house so we can talk more?" Gretchen did and she followed me home. We had tea and a nice conversation. She lives at the foot of the Rocky Mountains and her father-in-law hunts javelinas in southern Arizona where I was raised. She is looking for a church and activities for her children. She's eager to explore the historical sites in Philadelphia, the Art Museum, and Valley Forge. She said she and her children prayed that very morning that they would find new friends.

The children were all surprising quiet. No one was running wild. When I checked on them, Liana and the two younger girls were playing, laughing, and talking. Arielle and the oldest girl sat on Arielle's bed, all smiles, chatting away. The sweet little boy played contently with trains on the living room carpet. As they left, one of the girls, named Eliana and who also just turned 7, hugged Liana tightly with promises of future playdates. We said good-bye and I was reminded of my continuing prayer for Arielle that she would find a new friend. My obedience in that small moment answered my own prayer.

No, this was nothing as big as changing the face of a North Carolina town, just an opportunity taken, a door opened, prayers answered, friendships begun. I'm learning to listen.

True life example

Mid-winter frenzy has filled every corner of my life. It happens every year. I blame it on homeschooling. We're in the thick of things right now. It's the new semester scramble to make sure we're on target with everything we're doing. Arielle just took CATs. I'm taking a new teaching approach with Liana. The girls (and mom) are busy with their activities--practicing for the spring musical and for Arielle's piano exam in Princeton. Five months of surface-only cleaning of the house has taken its toll. Even so, I hold to my New Year resolution and try to keep focused and work diligently for what's really important.

A couple of weeks ago I turned on the TV to distract me while I folded a mountain of laundry. Have you heard of the Hallelujah Chorus, a group of twelve orphan boys from war-torn Liberia who had been touring in North Carolina? What an incredible story!

A woman named Lysa from the Charlotte area took her Brownie troop to see this concert. The boys were performing to raise money for their orphanage and the other 400 children who remained in Liberia. As Lysa watched the boys, she said she heard God speak to her heart and tell her, "Two of those boys are yours." This was an outrageous idea and made no sense. But after the concert two boys approached her and she spoke with them. She called her husband on his cell phone to tell him the news. The family prayed about this decision, and despite having three small daughters, decided to adopt these adolescent boys. How amazing!

The story doesn't end here. Her friends thought she was crazy, but they too attended a concert and met the boys. The results? One friend who already had two adopted children took one of the boys. Two other friends each adopted one boy. Another friend with two sons in college who was looking forward to a different stage of life ended up adopting SIX children because she found out the boys had other siblings in Liberia. In total, from this one North Carolina town, 14 families adopted 31 children from this orphanage!

What if Lysa wasn't listening when God called her to an important task? What if she'd been too caught up in her own world? What if she'd listened to all the "rational" arguments going on in her head and forgot about the boys? Her new sons wouldn't have a family and most likely those other 31 children wouldn't either. What a mighty work of God was done because of one woman's faith and obedience. She was prepared and she responded when the opportunity arose.

My own brother from Atlanta was on a business trip in New Jersey when he attended a local church and ended up ministering to a troubled boy. Our Bible study teacher, Francis, traveling for his job, noticed the man on the plane next to him in tears. Instead of averting his eyes with his face in a book, Francis responded and shared the hope of the gospel with this man. It was not a chance meeting. A couple of weeks later Francis was in the airport mid-week waiting for an entirely different flight when he heard someone call out to him. It was the same man, this time joyful and thankful. We are all called to be missionaries all the time. Where will you be and what will be your response when you hear the nudging of the Holy Spirit? I hope to be "an intrument for noble purposes, made holy, useful to the Master and prepared to do any good work." II Timothy 2:21.

Our church is considering taking on a monumental project. A local adoption agency is bringing orphans from Columbia to spent 6 weeks with host families. With the time spent preparing plus the time spent with the children, this will take up a whole summer! The hope is that most, if not all, the children will find families. This project will be at a great financial cost and a great cost of time and emotional resources. Our family signed on to do whatever is required, according to our abilities. We have a "Lysa" at our church. She is diligently researching all the options and doing one woman's best to find families for some of the children of the world. It will be a privilege to partner with her this summer.