Please Don't : "Biblical" Discipline and Kids from Hard Places

 

It was back in the year 2000 I was first introduced to the "Biblical" parenting methods I'll talk about in this post.  My husband and I along with our two young children (3 and 5 years old at the time) moved from California to Washington State. 

We found a great church that focused on the deeper things of God's word and we grew in our faith by leaps and bounds. We also noticed the children of the members of our church seemed extraordinarily compliant, obedient and quiet during family-integrated services. 

My own kids were (and still are) wonderful people. But I was curious about how these parents were able to teach even two year olds not to interrupt adult conversations and to go to sleep on command with no "night time routine" required.  

It didn't take long for a fellow mom to introduce our family to "Growing Kids God's Way" by Gary and Marie Ezzo.  We bought the manuals, we devoured the chapters and instituted the methods in our own family. It was not a drastic shift from the way we were already parenting but it was certainly a much needed "tune up" in some areas in which we felt we were lacking. 

There are things we LOVE about GKGW and I want to talk about those first:

1. Children are not the center of the family, Jesus is.  Our lives do not revolve around pleasing our kids, they revolve around pleasing our Maker.

2. Children learn to ask FORGIVENESS when they hurt someone rather than just throwing an insincere "Sorry". The onus to forgive is on the offended party. 

3. Children learn a good work ethic and are not handed material gifts liberally

4. Children learn to think of the feelings of others and not just themselves

5. Very young children learn sign language in order to circumvent the frustration of not having the words to express themselves

There are other great things about this method and, in our family at that time, we had only biological children who had been wanted, loved, nurtured and cherished from before they were born. 

But a few years after we began following GKGW, we became adoptive parents. And here is where my heart BREAKS for families who can not stray from GKGW. . . 

Adopted children are always "children of trauma". They are OFTEN "children from hard places". They are frequently victims of abuse, neglect and insecure or absent attachments.  

Even if you were handed a new born baby, straight from the womb to adopt, you are being handed a child of trauma.  Why? That child has not only lost his/her first parent, that child was gestated in the womb of a woman likely wrestling with her own life's pains and the decision to relinquish him/her. The stress hormone in that baby's pre-birth environment can and will have negative effects on the growth and development of that child.(https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC6310253/)

The precursor to GKGW is the Ezzo's book "Babywise".  In Babywise, parents are encouraged to place their infants on a strict eating and sleeping schedule that the parents deem suitable. Gary Ezzo goes so far as to reference God the father's refusal to take his son off the cross when He cried out as the basis for not going in to your infant when he/she cries out.  

Imagine a baby who has come from a place (be it birth mother or inattentive orphanage) where his needs are not met when he cries out being placed into a "Babywise" family where his needs are not met when he cries out. Eventually, babies stop crying out. And parents may believe this indicates he is satisfied and content when in reality, he may have simply given up. The consequences as he grows up can be life-altering.  

The aspects of both GKGW and Babywise that pose potential damage to children of trauma are:

1. This is a totally parent-driven approach which authoritarianism is highly prized. When a child has trust issues, this approach quickly becomes a "me against them" in the child's mind and he will often rebel in every way he can. You can not "out spank" a child with a strong will from a hard place. He will take your punishment and turn it into fuel for his anger. Trust me. 

2. This approach promotes Pharisaical behavior, in my firsthand experience. A child learns what behaviors win approval of adults and he does them. He learns what behaviors provoke the "wisdom maker" (paddle) and he avoids them. The premise of the book is that when a child is made to obey outwardly, his heart will follow.  The Biblical description of the nature of man says different. 

Our hearts are wicked and without a regenerating relationship with Jesus, we are not capable of any good thing. 

3.child learns to conceal his true heart in exchange for pleasing the adults in his life, the problem is compounded.  Now we have a "hidden behavior" or "covered sin" issue to add to the mix. Aside from guiding our kids to choose things that please God just because we love him, we are tasked with figuring out if our child is obeying to avoid punishment or obeying because He longs to do what is right.  

For some adopted children, learning to manipulate others has been his source of survival. 

When behaviors are demanded from a heart that is not sincere in manifesting those behaviors, we are inadvertently creating pharisees.  This is a comfortable place for many adopted children who already have attachment issues. They PREFER to behave in a way that pleases you but can not stand the expectation of true heart work - where parents acknowledge their pain and ask them to share and express it. The thing a wounded child needs most - the raw business of unpacking his trauma and putting it into perspective - often feels to "out of control" or GKGW parents. 

4. Spanking.  Spanking is a very big part of both Babywise and GKGW.  Whether or not you spank your children is a debate for another place. We did. And then we didn't. 

Using physical discipline with an adopted child often feels like bullying to him. Or revictimization. 

The use of terms like "rod of correction" make parents feel that spanking is a mandate. God corrects us with a "rod", right? 

Many theologians would argue that "rod" of correction is the shepherd's crook, used for guiding, not striking, the sheep.  And the bible does plainly state in Proverbs 23:13 that we are not to withhold correction from our children and "correcting with a stick" will result in a child making life-giving choices.  So spanking is not forbidden in the Bible but neither is it commanded. In these instances, parents must seek the face of God on the approach that best meets the needs of their child while communicating to him that he is safe. For us, spanking doesn't communicate that to a child from a hard background. So we don't.  

"Rules without relationship breeds rebellion".   When the bonds are not strong, the rules and discipline will not have the effect you desire. I promise. 

When GKGW started to feel uncomfortable for us, as adoptive parents, we began looking for a better way.  I was handed Michael and Debi Pearl's "To Train Up a Child" and I read in horror as intense amounts of spanking and FOOD WITHHOLDING were touted as Biblical parenting techniques. 

I was in tears by the middle of that book and only finished it because it felt like watching a train wreck. I could not look away.  

A quick internet search of this little "gem" will fully explain my terror at the thought of any parent implementing the principles in this book. Children have died.  I do not assert the Pearls are at fault for parents misusing this book but I do assert that the methods in this book are overly cruel, harsh and loveless, despite what the author's try to portend.   

After a little additional search, prayer and the understanding we don't need a book or method to parent but we sure wanted to have a Biblical guide, we found "Shepherding a Child's Heart" by  Tedd Tripp. 

We read it. It resonated.  Yes,  spanking is advocated here. We just omitted that practice and soaked up the gentle wisdom. The premise of this book is RELATIONSHIP with a child that points him to Jesus. The focus after discipline is on restoring the child/parent relationship to an open and loving place.  The parent is in authority, of course. But the goal is not simply outward obedience but a deep understanding of what puts any of us, adult or child, into a right relationship with God and the blessings that flow from that. 

It's not a perfect text. Only the Word of God can claim that title. 

But, for us, it answered what was wrong with other popular ideologies and fit well for a child who was adopted or biological. And we, as parents, learned about our own hearts and need to surrender fully to our LOVING father at the same time. 

So,  please, adoptive parents,  do not follow any cookie cutter approach to discipline. Do not simply look at the well behaved children of your friends and do what they are doing. Don't take my advice for any of this without deep prayer and introspection.  If it feels too heavy, rigid, unloving or if you see your practices putting DISTANCE between you and your child, STOP THEM.  The spirit of God in you will tell you when you are on the wrong path with your child. Will  you listen? 

For further reading:

http://www.ezzo.info/top-resources/article-index/78-gkgw-critiques/173-whats-wrong-with-growing-kids-gods-way

https://www.babble.com/mom/to-train-up-a-child-teaches-punishment-that-kills-kids/

https://mljadoptions.com/blog/spanking-is-not-effective-20140917

Remade: A Woman's Perspective on Mission Life

It has been six years since my family moved to The Philippines in service of street children. It has been an entire year since I've touched this blog and, to be honest, I had to reset the password because I had forgotten it. 

Please don't mistake the year of blog silence for "life has fallen into a predictable routine".  The only thing that is predictable here on the mission field is that nothing is.

And being a woman on the mission field, I have found, brings a unique type of challenge. We are so relational. Plus, they don't sell tampons here but that is a whole other blog post.

Looking back over my older blog posts, I see that I am nothing like her anymore. She was so optimistic. She believed that she could reach even the most distant child's heart.  Her faith was stronger than it is at this moment and she wasn't as tired. But she is so much wiser now.

 Kids have come and gone. More than 85 children have been served in some capacity in Mercy House's live-in, residential care program. The coming in is wonderful. The "going" part can be brutal.  We have said "goodbye" for happy reasons like family reunifications or adoptions. And we have said "goodbye" for devastating reasons like running away or  the need to  transfer to another place more equipped to serve a particular boy.   Every "goodbye" does something to my heart.   And, even as a four-time adoptive mother, these six years have changed my view of adoption radically. Adoption truly is NOT for every child nor is it for every family.  Some of my boys who have been adopted are struggling in the most painful ways. Some are laying waste to their adoptive families with their trauma. And we have done all we can to prepare them. Those who are thriving are the youngest and most resilient. The brokenness of the world  takes no prisoners. Everyone in it's path feels the burn to one degree or another.

In the last year, my precious mother has been diagnosed with stage 4 bone cancer, my stateside children have had struggles that are unreachable here and we have undertaken a building project that has added a lot of weight to the load we carry.

But I suspect this life isn't so different to what it would have been had we not come 8,000 miles from our home land to serve. There would still be family sicknesses, struggles and people we lose physically and emotionally as life moves forward.

The distance magnifies the helplessness but the loneliness compounds everything.  The loneliness has always been and will probably always be the strangling part.   There have been countless times of feeling like I wanted to implode from having no one to talk through the hurts with.
 And as a Follower of Christ, He should always be the One. But there are times when a girl friend with a listening ear, no judgement  and lots of  "that must be hard" is what my heart wants most.  And can not have.  A friend guaranteed to spur me on and believe in my crazy ideas. The plans that others would say are too big or too silly to walk in.   The things I want to try that are too fragile to share in case they are crushed.

So I suppose when Paul said in Philippians that everything he once held dear he now counts as loss compared to the greatness of knowing HIM, he might have   meant things would be like this. 

But the OVERWHELMING peace and joy that follow us over here are the warm blanket over the hard days.  And now that we have been at this for six years, we have literally raised several of our boys from small street children to amazing young men who, although not given a family by adoption for various reasons, have found a PLACE that is their own.  Parents who will walk with them into adulthood, however flawed we are, and pour into them what was missing for those years the street stole. 

And God has drawn our oldest son, Aaron, into the work with us and that has been a great source of joy for me.  He has kept our immediate family here healthy, an illness here beyond the norm is a great fear as we just don't have the access (or insurance) we once did. 

If you asked me "if you knew then what you know now, would you still have come?" the answer would be, I would have come SOONER.  I would have RACED headlong into the distance and loneliness and other trials I have walked here.  I would not trade a moment of this life for the comfort of my old one.  I would not miss a second of holding broken boys while they grieve in exchange for an ounce of additional "me time".   Because THIS IS LIVING for me. It is not the calling on everyone's life (and I am thankful for that because so many of you are needed to stay where you are, serve in your workplace and family and be our champions from afar).  

So, to my precious friend who is on her way over here, family in tow, ready to tackle the crisis of fatherlessness with wide-eyed optimism. . .  hurry!!  

This life will not be easy. But I expect you know this. The enemy will come at your both guns blazing in a firestorm of discouragement in hopes of sending you away defeated.  So cling to the cross! 

The pain of the mission field brings the goodness of God into clarity.  The successes in ministry remind you that it is all HIM because we are more frail and less competent than we care to admit. 

"Superwoman" is a myth.   On the field and off.  

Who Cares?

In 2013, my family sold all our stuff in America to embark on a life in The Philippines, the country of my husband's birth.

That life was to be  committed to serving children in orphanages who have visual impairments or blindness.
We had an organization of sorts, that committed to helping us raise our support. We had some money of our own to help us get started and we had a good working knowledge of the country's orphanage system as we had already adopted from The Philippines four times prior to our "big move".
But we were not prepared.
We were not prepared for the ministry God had already expertly carved out for us. And it was not with visually-impaired children.  It was the most unlikely, under-served, cast-aside group  that we have since come to love with all of our beings.

STREET BOYS

We were led into this ministry in the most unusual way.  Every Saturday, we would drive to the orphanages where we were already serving a child or two, pick up the children and bring them to our home for a day of classes that included academic tutoring, Bible study, a healthy meal, art and physical education.  Many Saturdays, after the long drive, we would stop at McDonald's for a treat after the last child was dropped back off at his orphanage. At McDonald's, we noticed many dirty, loud, seemingly "high" boys in the parking lot begging or helping to park cars (guiding them and expecting a few pesos in return).  One day, my husband invited three of them inside for lunch. One was a much older boy living as a girl. He was wearing very short shorts, a little bit of makeup and jewelry clearly intended for a female. He was with two younger boys.  Not only did we invite them in, we talked to them about their lives. We asked where they slept and how they made the money they needed to buy food.  They were very open with us. Shockingly open.
Open enough to break my heart in a million pieces and make me wish I had a shelter to invite them into on the spot.

That was very naive thinking on my part. I now know you can't just walk around inviting children off the street to come and live in a shelter but, at that time, I just felt a fire light in my heart for these boys. And that fire didn't die. It only grew as we passed more and more street children and began to really NOTICE them. It exploded in me as we visited a government shelter that rounds up these children periodically. We started to look for them everywhere we went.  We began to talk to them. Buy their lunch. Ask about their hopes and dreams for the future. Ask what they wanted to be when they grew up.
The saddest revelation of all . . . not one of the children we asked could come up with a single thing he wanted to BE.
Ask any American child what he wants to be when he grows up. You will get answers like "a doctor", "an astronaut" or "a ballerina".  They have a dreams. Goals.
Ask a Filipino street child and you get stared at like you have three heads!
Who has time to think about what he wants to BE with a first-grade education and what-will-I-eat-today on the brain?

Now, ask that same child how much he can cash in a kilo of scrap metal or plastic for and you'll have a conversation! Ask him which restaurants give out their leftovers at the end of the day and, watch him brighten up!
For us, that was  just unacceptable. For us as parents, as Believers in Jesus Christ and simply as human beings, the life these boys were living was not okay.
So, we contacted our local Department Of Social Welfare and Development to find out what we needed to do in order to open our own shelter for street children. We contacted our initial sending organization and shared our passion with them for these street boys and were informed we'd need to part ways. And it was with much stress and some fear that Mercy House was born.

One of the biggest discouragements as we set off to reach these boys came from a well-meaning friend who is very wise in terms of fund raising. We knew we would have to raise our own funds as we no longer had a sending organization. This friend said to us "it's easy to fund raise if you have babies and girls in your care. People love to donate to babies and girls. But older boys? It's going to be an uphill battle."

I believed her.

She has experience in this arena.  I felt like we were doomed but, as long as our own initial funds held up, maybe we could help a few street boys turn their lives around, expose them to the gospel and do a little "good" before we had to go back to the US, tails between our legs, and start our lives over.

 Because WHO CARES about street boys? They are dirty, rude, spend their days bugging local vendors, sniffing solvent from plastic bottles to get high, committing theft and vandalism, peeing in public, cursing at each other loudly while patrons try to enter and exit stores and restaurants.
They have often been put into government shelters (from which they run away at first opportunity), been involved in sexual crimes - either as victims or perpetrators, and been rejected again and again by their families and then by the public that surrounds them. There is a nickname for them here that translates to "fog boys" because they just hang around pointlessly.
They are an annoyance here as you can't stop at a stop light without some of them washing your car windows and expecting payment, whether you wanted your windows washed or not.

So, WHO CARES about boys like this? They aren't little anymore. They should take responsibility for their own choices!  Maybe they LIKE living on the street!
Who cares?  God cares.  He loves these boys. He made them for a purpose. He gave them life and has a plan for them.   They may not be tiny, helpless babies but they are just children in so many ways.
When we bring them into our center, we get to see, up close and personal, how they shift from "thug" to "child" in a very short time.

We get to watch a miracle each time a street boy comes in and begins to submit to our authority, come to us for help, let us meet his needs, TRUST us to be kind and take care of him! We are privileged to watch their disbelief and then understanding as we teach them that God loves them and that their lives can be a testimony of redemption.  That they were made with a PURPOSE.
Three years into this ministry. It still hasn't gotten "old".  We are revived with each new admission.
We are astounded every time a child, who has been his own "boss" for so long, accepts discipline and correction without running away or lashing back.   We are humbled when one of them expresses a desire to have his sins forgiven and start a new life as a follower of Jesus.

And getting to baptize a child whom we once fed on the street!!! There are few joys that compare!

We have found, underneath all the problems and poor adult choices and petty crimes, lies a precious child who longs to redeem some lost years. He wants to play with action figures, draw and paint, be tucked in at night, have his cuts and scrapes bandaged and just be a child.

So, if you live where they do, and  you see a street boy, take a minute. Talk to him. Ask him what he wants to be. Ask him why he's working instead of going to school. You will definitely be surprised at HIS surprise.

Because people usually don't. They just keep moving. It's only "fog".

Buried Alive!

I need to share some straight talk with my blogosphere friends today about a dreamy statement I made many years ago. A statement that copious numbers of Believers and just plain old do-gooders make.  A statement of which I had no real grasp  when it was made. One with BIG ramifications:

I WANT TO START AN ORPHANAGE SOMEDAY!!!!!! 

I said those words when I was a teenager.  I said them again in college. I repeated them less-often as a young, busy mother but began to obsess on them after our first visit to The Philippines in 2005.   Finally, after much praying and selling and planning, we started our orphanage.

I love it. I love the work. I adore the children. I have a sense of purpose and usefulness that can only be described as "REAL" but the flip side of this life as Mama-to-Many is not at all like most would imagine.  Most days, I feel I am being buried alive.  And it's ok.

The kids here are wounded by terrible histories of abuse, neglect and abandonment.  They sometimes act out.  They need a LOT more attention than the average, well-nurtured child. They will do pretty much anything to get it.   But I love them. I get to kiss their scars. I get to remind them they are beautiful and valuable and accepted.  Some of them have never felt that before and when they start to believe they are worthwhile,  they almost appear to grow taller before our eyes.  And bloom.

On top of the treasured work of helping the kids heal, there is paperwork. A LOT of paperwork. I am abundantly blessed to have an amazing social worker who is more than capable of doing the bulk of the paperwork but we all have to do our part. The processing of a child for international adoption is a succinct art.  Every document must be properly executed, dated, submitted and updated. We have a strong commitment to making sure the children in our care are ready both legally and emotionally for a new family. This takes a whole"village". Professionals inside and outside Mercy House take part in the task and they take it seriously.   They have to.  It's precious human life.  There is no room for error.

Our precious social worker with some of the MH kids

And aside from the children and the paperwork, I am a wife and a mother. That didn't stop when we decided to open an orphanage.  Unlike some directors, we choose to live inside the orphanage with our own family and our Mercy House family. Why? Because we simply need to be close for the children in care to have continuity. Staff may come and go but it is our prayer that "Mommy Nikki" and "Daddy Anthony" offer a little peek at how it feels to have caring adults who stay.  Our prayer is their only move from our care is into their FOREVER families. It does not always work that way but that is always our goal.  Finding the balance between the roles of orphanage Mama, wife and mother-to-my-own is beyond challenging. Sometimes I have to put off the ones who deserve first place because there are emergencies of the melt-down kind.  Okay, not "sometimes".  "Often". I pray they understand. 

And then there are these street boys. Children taking care of themselves. They are often hungry and always dirty when we go to see them. When I look at them, I envision them in a school uniform, well rested, doing their chores or homework inside Mercy House.  I imagine clearing out a drawer for some clothing for them and getting that first "goodnight" hug when I tuck them in. I can not sleep some nights for thinking of these kids. I have lost a lot of weight since meeting them because, when I know the faces of children who are hungry,  my own food loses it's luster. It is something that is hard to explain if you don't live it.  It hurts a lot. But not nearly as much as being 11 and having no parents protecting you must hurt. We have to do more for these boys.  It is a fire inside me.  I have always believed that if you want to change a society, reach the boys. Help them to become responsible, Godly men and to start a new heritage. I want to be a part of that for these street boys. But it takes time, money and some other priority slipping down the list a bit. Sacrifices.

The issues of handling birth families, staff problems, anyone getting sick and, of course, the fact that we just bought land and are fund raising to build a permanent structure - ALL OF THOSE and more are scoops of fresh earth that have me buried alive.

This is such hard work.
Do I want to quit? Sometimes. Do I miss my life as a happy American driving my own car to Taco Bell and strolling through Wal Mart whenever I want? For sure! Do I feel like I'm only 1/2 alive sometimes for the ache of missing my two oldest children who are in the US? Every day.

But I believe I will never leave. I assume that, someday, I will die here in The Philippines doing this work I love and helping children know their God and find their families.  I will be serving with my husband and whichever of our own children feel called to be here. I wish they all did.

So, friends. When you say "I want to start an orphanage",  I hope you are wiser than I was. I hope the sacrifices and pain don't take you by surprise.  I pray you understand what you are REALLY saying when you utter those words is "Lord, I want to be buried alive".     Because you will be.  And you might even love it.

 

Before They Are Yours

 Yesterday I woke up with a nagging sense of dread coupled with a little tinge of excitement.  The major task we were to undertake yesterday was "roaming".   Roaming is the act of taking an older child out into the community to trying and locate his birth family.  In this case, our newest resident, J (far left in this photo) along with me, my awesome social worker, my husband and our youngest son set out to  roam.  
Before we ever set foot in the car or set a destination into our GPS, I started the day with prayer, always asking the Lord to help us find the birth parents and discern HIS will for the future of this child.  Since our resident is already 11 years old, has been on the streets for two years and only remembers a very old address, we had little to go on but "go", we did.
What we encountered was not in the script but was clearly the hand of God guiding us in His sovereign goodness.
First stop was McDonald's.  Roaming can be hard on the children in our center and we want to make it a little bit of a treat so, we pulled into the McDonald's not far from where this young man used to be on the street.  Immediately, three street boys who were there directing traffic for money recognized him. They ran to him and started hugging him and asking him where he had been. We invited these three inside to have lunch with us and when they understood that we were from a ministry, they started to open up and talk about their own lives.

These boys shared their struggles and the brutal crimes they have witnessed on the street. They told us where they sleep and where they spend their days. They broke my heart but they also gave us hope. Despite the hardships they face, they are still very much children with an inexplicable innocence that you can see in their eyes.
My husband prayed with these boys and talked to them about Jesus.  He shared with them that God has a purpose and a plan for every life.  The oldest boy, age 18, was visibly clinging on to every word.
As we were finishing our visit, a lady of about 70 years came to our table. She pointed her finger at our resident, "J" and poked him on the shoulder.  She began to say LOUDLY (I suspect she is hard of hearing) that J is a thief and a drug addict.  She went on to tell us that he sniffs glue and that he is not a good boy.   We all just watched her in disbelief.   J slunk down a little in his chair and stared at the ground.
I simply said "Okay, thank you" and waited for her to leave.  She did. 
As we rose to leave, she came back repeating the same story with a little less volume.  My husband told her that this child has a new life now and those things that he did before do not matter to us.

THAT shut her up.     And J heard  Daddy Anthony say this and the relief was clear.   

We will not define this child or any of our Mercy House children by the mistakes of their pasts.  Ever.

No Exceptions.

Then it was on to J's last remembered address!  When we pulled up to the area, he did not want to get out of the car.  He was clearly not interested in any reunion!  We assumed it might be because neighbors would recognize him and come out and tell us bad things about him. This has happened to us more than once when roaming with other children.  But this was not the reason.
We convinced him to come and show us the" house".  A woman came out and DID recognize him. But she did not tell us anything bad that he had done.  Instead, she started recounting to us the beatings she witnessed this little boy getting on a regular basis.  She kept saying "your step mother would beat you with a wooden stick" or "your step mother didn't give you food" - things that broke our hearts to hear but, at the same time, we need the true history of this child to make the best plan and deliver the best counseling to him.  The neighbor told us she  herself used to give him food and clothing but his "step mother" would not allow him to have any of it.   She would cut up the clothing and make rags to sell. She must have eaten the food herself based on her physical description. She was NOT starving. He was.
And then our little resident spoke up in a quiet voice and said "hindi step mother. Mama ko."  (not my step mother.  My real mother).
The neighbor was stunned.  She thought this child was being rejected by a step parent, which is all-too-common here, but he was being systematically abused by his biological mother. 
And now we understood more fully why he did not want to exit the car.  And why he flinched when Daddy Anthony went to touch him in a joking way. And why he flipped out and yelled when being verbally corrected for a misbehavior. And "why" a lot of things. . .
This helpful neighbor informed us that the family had moved more than a year ago to another barangay - a huge squatter area spanning more than 5 acres that is a maze of narrow dirt paths and homes on top of shacks.   The neighbors wanted to report the abuse many times but, out of fear of J's family, she did not.  We can not fault them for this.  We wish they had reported it but they are poor and voiceless.  Who would protect THEM afterward?
So we went to the huge squatter area.  J pleaded with us not to ask him to roam and we didn't. He stayed behind with Daddy Anthony while my amazing social worker, Love, and I walked hours' worth of hot, smelly streets asking for J's mother at every vendor stand and posting his picture and information on walls and posts with scotch tape and a prayer.
So far, no mother.  So we wait and we keep praying.
But what we gained from this day made every second worthwhile.  We gathered some history. We put pieces in a jumbled, messy frame and helped a very precious boy to have some background where there was so little.  We found some answers that will help us approach this beautiful child with extra caution and understanding.  We communicated to him how important his life is.  He is worth the driving and asking and hot, hot walking.  

He is accepted.  And acceptable. 

Our prayer for him is the same as for every child in our care.  We ask the Lord to take these hard beginnings and build a beautiful testimony that says to all who hear it:

OUR GOD REDEEMS 

He does. 

And He will.

The master puzzle maker, the ultimate worth-giver, the lover of His own.

"The Story of My Life . . ."

The image above is a stack of life books.  We are making one for every child in our center. These books are full of pictures of our Mercy House kids, their housemates, staff, friends from school and fun outings we've been on together.   Some of them even contain pictures of birth family. A few of birthmoms and dads . . . sacred stuff.

Life books are a tricky concept, depending on who you ask.

As I sat at my big, wooden table last week, picking out pictures for each of the children in our center, my mind went back to the four times we adopted while still living in America.  All of our kids came to us with life books (and one with a CD of photos including birth mom on the day she gave our boy to his child caring agency).  She was a beautiful woman.

As an adoptive mom, the life books were both precious to me and they stung.  Here, before me, in pictures is  a whole host of people who knew my child first.  Here is a list of my son's favorite foods and I'm not even sure what some of them ARE . . .  Here are people who hugged him when he was three and who called him by a cute nick name I only just learned about.  Here are the staff members he ran to for comfort when he was sick or hurt. . . and here is the favorite caregiver he called "Mommy" for years, the one he cries over every time we turn to THAT page. The one he doesn't want to talk about to me because I wouldn't understand and he's not sure if it's okay to feel the way he feels about leaving her.

And in my insecurity and jealousy, I sometimes wanted to hide that life book from my older adopted son.  But I never did.   I just wanted him to love me best of all and, in the early weeks and months in our home, he didn't.  He missed the people who knew him first.  He missed them to the point of tears and silence sometimes.   He went to a place I wasn't allowed in his own heart and mind. And he grieved there. 

And what a heartache for a new, excited, starry-eyed, madly-in-love mother!

But it could not be  about ME and my feelings or wants.  It had to be  about my son and his need to grieve the loss of adoption before he could appreciate the gain.

And I can not promise we did all the right things in relation to our son and his life book but our solution to watching him grieve over it was two fold. First, we kept it in a drawer where he could access it anytime he wanted.    Second, we made a commitment to show only positive emotions related to that book no matter how many times he needed to look at it, tell the same stories and call that caregiver "mommy".     He set the pace.  He managed his memories in the way he felt was best for him.

And it was.  In time . . .

In the early days home, that life book came out every single day. As time went on, it became weekly, then monthly and then, maybe twice a year or when an adoptive family visited us.  And I am so THANKFUL for that book.  How wonderful to see the life he had and the faces he saw!  That old jealousy and insecurity has long-since been replaced by curiosity and appreciation.  His devotion shifted and my fears that it never would made me laugh at myself when I remembered them.

So, as I sit on this side of the adoption equation, making those life books, I know some of the pictures in them will sting the new parents.   But more than that, they will comfort and encourage the children. They will remind the children of us, still loving and praying for them,  even when they are far away.
Over time, the children may forget the names of the pets or the visitors or even the staff in those photos, but our prayer is that they will NEVER forget that they were loved twice or even three times by sets of people whom God sent to leave footprints on their hearts . . .until He carried them all the way to you.   The final stop.

THE FOREVER FAMILY 

The Privilege of Sacrifice

2 Corinthians 8
"8 And now, brothers and sisters, we want you to know about the grace that God has given the Macedonian churches. ² In the midst of a very severe trial, their overflowing joy and their extreme poverty welled up in rich generosity. ³ For I testify that they gave as much as they were able, and even beyond their ability. Entirely on their own, ⁴ they urgently pleaded with us for the privilege of sharing in this service to the Lord’s people. ⁵ And they exceeded our expectations: They gave themselves first of all to the Lord, and then by the will of God also to us."

I love this passage.  I hate how misused and taken-out-of-context it can be.  This is a narrative about the generosity of the people of Macedonia toward the ministry of Paul.  He was proud of them. He was commending them for giving despite their own trials.  It was simply a compliment.

It is not a command.

And yet, time and time again I have seen and heard missionaries, pastors and other full-time servants of the gospel lift up this passage and implore their hearers to "give beyond their abilities".   I cringe.

I love reading about the hearts of the Macedonians. We have "Macedonians" in our lives who support our ministry with generosity and we know, for some of our donors, giving to Mercy House is a huge sacrifice.  We have even had friends "urgently plead with us" for the privilege of giving. People have contacted us and asked how to give to our work and had to email me several times to ask -but persevered- because of out sheer busyness, I was lax in replying and out of sheer desire to give, they were compelled not to give up on us. 

When it comes to money and the mission field, there is an innate awkwardness that just IS. We subsist on the giving of our friends, family and those who have a heart for the things God has given us a heart for.  And we pray it doesn't change those relationships and make them "weird". 

But I will never be that missionary who makes my loved ones feel guilty for drinking "five dollar lattes", or taking a beautiful vacation.  NEVER!

 I lived a long and fairly prosperous pre-mission field life.  We worked hard and became debt-free except for our mortgage (Thanks, Dave Ramsey). We took family trips. We entertained in our home a lot.  We had a motorcycle, three cars and I had the privilege of being an at-home mother and homeschooling my beautiful kids.   And we gave to the work of the gospel in The Philippines because, even back then, this country had our hearts.

BUT . . .

I've also  been on the receiving end of pleas from ministries, church building programs and special projects from my brothers and sisters in The Faith that were simply guilt-inducing.  I watched videos of fly-encrusted babies with distended bellies.  I was told repeatedly that most of the world lives for a year on what I spend on one trip to Wal Mart.   I was reminded that mothers around the world watch their babies die of illnesses that I can just whip out my amoxicillin and ibuprofen and take care of easily in my own kids in three days or less.  Often, the idea of giving up my over-priced coffee to save children was mentioned because I could provide clean water to a whole village for the price of said beverage.

And all of those things are real and true.  They are happening.  I have seen them or their victims first hand since moving to this country.   

The plight of orphans and street children is awful here.  The challenge for those of us on the front lines is to balance the sharing of their stories with faith that the Lord moves hearts to give and we only need present the opportunity.  

And at the risk of patting ourselves on the back, we want to be very transparent about how we got here and how we remain here.  I mean, in "money talk". . .

We sold all our "stuff".   We allocated $50,000 of our own money to start Mercy House.  We've been given donations - big and small - by friends and strangers.   God has moved hearts and endeared our ministry to them. It's all HIM.  ALL.  HIM. He could have called any family and used any carbon-based life form to come over here, meet and touch these beautiful abandoned kids. We're thankful He's using us. Just thankful.

But that's OUR story.  

It's not meant to be a prototype for anyone else's story.  The selling-it-all-and-going  Christians are nothing without the staying-and-working-and-giving  Christians.  Period.  We're all pieces of the same puzzle.  Equal.  Vital.  Privileged.   I sometimes think the staying-and-working Believers have a more challenging call than those of us who are the sell-and-go types.  Sometimes.

So, we want to use this little space on the blogosphere to thank our staying-and-working partners, our coming-for-a-short-visit friends,  our praying-for-you-daily partners and our I-sent-you-a-box donors.  Those boxes are like water in the desert to our hearts. Pieces of home. 

 Thank you for your sacrifice.  Thank you for enjoying the privilege with us.  

FOR HIS FAME.

2 Corinthians 9:7 says:

" Each one must give as he has decided in his heart, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver."

 

 

It's Real, Alright

^{Ephesians 6}

¹² For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. ¹³ Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm.

Yesterday.    It was an awesome and a terrible day all rolled into one.  If I ever doubted for even a moment that spiritual warfare is

a real "thing",  I'm a full-fledged Believer now.

Yesterday made this theologically reformed, not-exactly-Pentecostal Believer want to start binding and rebuking everything in my path.

The morning started off hard and painful as I woke up at 5:30 am to find out a man our family has known and loved for fourteen years passed away after a battle with melanoma.  It was a blow. He's a husband and a father. 

Just  a few hours after this tough news arrived, my social worker came bouncing in, smiling, and informed us that our license to operate fully as a shelter/orphanage was complete and we could pick it up the next day!! We have been waiting for this license for quite some time. It allows us to admit EVERY CHILD on our waiting list right now!!!  The sun began to peek through the clouds of loss that had settled over us that morning. I considered this news quite a gift in lieu of what the morning brought.

We began to make plans for the admissions and call the referring agencies to get the documents prepared.

And then, we had to discipline one of our older sons and he decided to positively over react and try to pack a bag to "leave".  

So after more than an hour of talking, crying, praying and discussing with him and another person involved in the problem, he settled down and began to think straight. He stayed.

Meanwhile, a younger child of ours who is almost always kind to everyone was caught being downright mean to someone younger.  We have not seen this side of said child. It did not bode well for him.  The hammer fell . . . AGAIN. 

Thereafter, our social worker decided to type a form and her typewriter began to smoke and then, with a POP and a flash of light, simply blew up.

I did the only thing any normal woman would do in the face of such blatant "murphy's law" situations. 

I took a long, hot shower.

And I thought about the events of the day.   And I began to have such significant doubts about EVERYTHING that I scared

myself.  

I wrestled with this calling.  If my own children are going to act like absolute goobers at the drop of a hat, what business did I have bringing even MORE kids into the mix?  Who do I think I am?  Superwoman?  If I can't "manage" the five in my direct care right now . . . . Oh, so THIS is why certain denominations don't endorse missionaries with teenagers.  Yeah. I get it now. . . It's all been one grand delusion designed to copy some of my favorite heroes of the Christian faith but I am NO Amy Carmichael and my husband is no

David Platt. . . so what ARE we doing out here while the whole thing falls down around our ears?  Amateurs!  And the gall to bring my sons  BACK to their country or origin AND try to raise them in an orphanage?  I've cheated the very children I vowed to help heal.  

So in that vein, the internal battle raged

My tears mixed with the  water that we can shower in but dare not drink.  I had to cry as quietly as possible because there is absolutely no privacy in this echo-chamber of a home.   

Just when I had imagined   what our NEW life would look like back in America, close to my biological children once more,  I was reminded of Ephesians 6: 12-13.   

SO THIS IS WHAT SPIRITUAL WARFARE FEELS LIKE!

It's real.

It's hard.

I don't particularly care for it. 

But I know what to DO about it.  Two things are commanded in Ephesians 6.  I am to stand firm and I am to put on the whole armor of God.     If I had a dollar for every sermon I've heard on the "Whole Armor of God",  I'd be building us a new orphanage tomorrow.

And oh, how THANKFUL I am for that litany of sermons.   What I heard while sitting comfortably in my seat at church, probably holding a cup of coffee and scrolling through my Bible app, came in pretty darn handy in my shower in this developing country with my little gaggle of orphans walking home from school at any minute.

So it was then and there I knew.   We're standing firm.  We're staying.  I am not going to let my mind play around with leaving The Philippines everytime we have a hard day.  That's not fair to anyone.  Least of all, the kids in our care.   That's like getting married but keeping the divorce papers signed and in the top drawer "just in case . .. ".      

STAND FIRM

As far as putting on the whole armor,  I decided to start with the Sword of the Spirit.  I went to the Word. I read about the life of David.  Spent some time in prayer.  Asked for wisdom.  Poured out my heart.   And He really is so faithful and an ever-present help in times of trouble. He is everything His word says He is. 

Do any of you remember that gospel group from years ago called "Cloud Eight"?  They had a song called "If I Know God"

I  am such a music lover but of all songs to come to mind, this one is most obscure.  I haven't heard it or thought about it since the 90s, I'll bet.  It doesn't even have the most pristine theology, truth be told.   But the chorus says:

If I know God, He'll find a way to bless me

It's just like Him to turn things around.

He'll take a bad situation and work it for my good.

That's how life goes, if I know God.

And those words, coupled with  the sweetness of the scripture I had been reading and the communion of just talking to Him created such peace and clarity in me, that  any  doubts I had, ceased.   Especially any doubt I may have been harboring about the reality of spiritual warfare and the need to recognize it and do what the Bible says to do in the face  of it.

The temptation to run to facebook

                                      or the phone

                                      or my journal

                                      or even my husband

                                                       was overwhelming.   But God asked us to stand firm and to come to Him in the face of such battles. 

I am SO GLAD I did this time.   Spiritual warfare is so real, my friends.  But so is the one who can win every battle for us.    He warned us it was coming and He taught us how to confront it.  What a good and loving Father He is.

     

       

     

 

p.s. our orphanage/shelter  "Mercy House" has been nominated to win a $10,000 grant from a company called Kind Snacks. Please consider copying the link below to vote for us. It's free and winning would be a HUGE blessing to the kids in our care.
Thank you!!!
http://causes.kindsnacks.com/cause/mercy-house-of-the-philippines-street-children-and-orphan-rescue/