The UN-birthday

I promised Seth last fall that his first "invite your friends" birthday party would be for his fifth birthday. Well, it turned out we were in Uganda for his birthday so we celebrated a different way!

This spring, as the school year wore down, I heard more and more about Seth's awesome friends at school.  Sooooo, I told him he could have an UN birthday and have them all over at once.

No presents.

Just a play date of epic proportions.

So the last Saturday of May, Seth invited Silas, Francesco, Maura, Caroline, Madeline, Andrew and Daniel to our house for play, lunch, and cupcakes!

What a hoot.

And evidence they are all besties?

Perfect, rigorous FUN for four hours without a single issue!

  Happy UN birthday, Seth!

In just six months, you'll be SIX!!!

Yes, even in this

We all have a thing.

I have one.  Maybe two.  Don’t you?

You know… the thing that stops you in your tracks, makes your stomach hurt, and causes you all kinds of angst to convince yourself not to completely launch on the person who did (or didn’t do) this or that?  Yea, that.  

Abortion.

Child abuse.

International Adoption.

Cruelty to animals.

Politics.

Ethical adoptions.

Gun control.

Gun rights.

HIV advocacy.

Healthcare.

Diversity.

Theology (of all sorts).

Orphan care.

Women in ministry.

Homelessness.

Poverty.

Inner-city crisis.

The list is endless.

Those things that make your blood boil, your heart sing, and your passions ignite.  We all have them and they are all different!  {Isn’t it so absolutely awesome that God gave us all such unique passions?}  Ahhh diversity in the Body….

For me?  My number one “thing” is easy:  racism.  And everything that comes with it.  Racism that says, “I’m better than you simply because of the color of my (or your) skin.”  It says, “I deserve more; I earn more; I'm entitled to more; indeed, I am more.”  Racism says it's okay if we oppress "you" because, well, you're different than some {ill-defined} majority.  I despise racism of all types in all shapes and of all varieties.  Bleh.  Lord, continue to search my heart and purge me of all racist attitudes.

This issue hits close to home and even closer to my heart.  My brothers are black and were raised with our, ehm, then-decidedly white family in the ‘70’s, God bless ‘em.  My three babies also have beautiful brown skin, and I'm blessed with four nieces/nephews who share their gorgeousness.  In fact, my sister holds the only four white grandbabies in the family!

I often hear, it being 2014, that racism is a thing of the past.  Oh, if that were only the truth!  We don't encounter it much here in our highly integrated, three-blocks-from-Chicago's-west-side neighborhood.  And I'm thankful for that.  But it still exists.

A news article about racism recently went "viral" on FaceBook.  In it, the reporter discussed segregated proms that {apparently} still take place in some parts of this country.  As I read the article, I felt that familiar wave of nausea overcome me.  The worst part, in my estimation, was that the parents of the high schoolers were the ones perpetuating this awful tradition -- even paying out of their own pockets funds to ensure that a "white only" prom would take place at their school.  I had to resist the temptation to go on a rage-filled rant on social media or anywhere else someone might listen.

And yet.....

And.yet.

There is grace.  Even in this.  Grace.

I had this {difficult} realization recently while I was in a conversation with my sister.  Our passions -- my passions -- can be so all-consuming that we {ehm, I} forget that in Christ, in this, even in this, there is grace.  Were it not the case, what would this mean for me?

Gossip?  Yep.  {Slowly raises hand}

I can be prone to gossip.  It's ugly and the holy spirit regularly brings me to my knees about it.

I am a sinner SAVED by grace who is bought and paid for by the blood of Jesus.

My sins are covered, for all time.

And when I slip (which happens a lot), I am no less saved.  But I do feel that still, small voice whispering to me again that Christ wants more for me.  There is more.  

More like Christ.

So when my conversation with Lisa turned to our recent experiences of racist behavior, I was overcome by a wave of emotion for the people exemplifying these attitudes.  I felt grace.  Someone how in that moment, despite the passion burning within me, the holy spirit whispered to me that this is me too.  That I too am imperfect, saved by a mighty God who is holy, holy, holy.  Holy, holy, holy!

It's not as if my passion about this issue was resolved in that moment.  No way.  A fire still burns in me and I commit to gracefully confronting racism wherever I encounter it.  It was more that in the moment, I realized that Jesus died for all of us.  All of us.  And somehow that very personal realization -- in that moment -- allowed me to find words for people that I otherwise didn't think I had.  I could speak with love and I could -- if I chose to allow the Holy Spirit to work in me -- be grace.

I hope I never forget the way I felt during my conversation with Lisa this week because it applies to so many things in my life.  I can be a little (or tall) fire ball of passion, energy and emotion.  I can go from zero to sixty in about 2.3 seconds.  Seriously.  But just like the Holy Spirit whispering to me to slow down and see people, He is now reminding me, at my core, that grace is the order of the day.  Grace.

Boxes

When the new furniture arrives in giant shipping boxes?

Well, you do the math.....



Her pics are better than mine....

 On your mark.....

 Get set.....

Go go go!!!!!!!!!!



Zechariah's Adjustment

Zechariah's adjustment has been going beautifully.
Overall, this adoption of a six (now seven) year old has been very smooth.
{Note:  We're still just six months in.....}

Last week, Zechariah started {American} football, which he has begged to do since coming home.
The first week was not a stellar start.
In addition to being tired and hungry, it was WAY overwhelming for my little man.
And it ended in multiple bouts of tears, on my lap.
For example, Zechariah would get the ball and start running down the field, only to be "tagged" by one of his teammates, ending his running streak.
Not.happy.
Competitive much???

Then, they would do drills and Zechariah, not understanding "boundaries" on the field, would run to the side, racing "out of bounds" to the end zone.
Um, "You're out," did not sit so well with him.
Ugh.

After a very rough one-hour practice, he and I had a little chat at bedtime.

"Zechariah, when you came home from Uganda, did you know how to count?"
No.

"Did you know how to count to ONE HUNDRED?"
No.
"By tens?"
Nope.

"You had to learn, right?"
Yes.

"Just like that, you have to LEARN to play football.
The entire reason we have practice is to LEARN.
And have FUN.
Not to feel sad about not knowing how to do it the first time out.
So, next week, I'm going to play with you and show you how and it's going to be fun!"

"Mom, I want to play golf."
{sigh}
"No, you need to finish what you started and I promise next week will be better."

And it went on.

This week, we had football again.
It.was.awesome.

He was all smiles.
He tried hard but didn't get upset when he couldn't do it the first time.
He ran hard; played hard; and laughed the entire time.

I got up and showed him each drill so he didn't feel overwhelmed.
The coach was sweet with him.  {Blessing!}
All was well.

When we got home, Zechariah said to me, "Mom!  I did football and I didn't cry!  I was learning and having FUN!"

Dear Jesus, THANK YOU for blessing me with a son who is so sweet and such a great listener and such an awesome big brother example for my other two pun'kins.  You really did get this one just.right.  AMEN.