The Fear of Man II

My husband and I have had numerous conversations about adoption throughout the years. Those dialogues, while often times being redundant, have evolved as we have grown up a bit.

Recently, our discussions about adopting a child with special needs have been more full of possibility. A couple of year's ago we didn't even mention it, because we both assumed we would have a child with no health problems. Now being given two children biologically, we know that our assumptions about the health of our children were wrong. Neither of our children suffer from devastating illness, but neither one qualifies as being "perfectly" healthy. Dashing to a new specialist last week confirmed my suspicions that raising these babies of mine isn't ever going to be easy, or boring.

When we began filling out paperwork for our home study a little over 18 months ago we actually stopped to think about the possibility of raising a child with special needs. That pile of paperwork was good for something, apparently. While we felt confident that we could love & raise a baby that was crippled or handicapped, we didn't feel our extended families would love that child fully or support us completely.

A year ago an influential member of my extended family deserted us. She abandoned her position, and her influence, in my life. (This seemingly random fact will make sense in a few paragraphs.)

Last year we started getting calls about babies with special needs that needed to be adopted.  As each call came, we dove more deeply into our family theology. Is God sovereign? Do we want to control the number and types of children He gives us? Would we abandon a biological child with special needs, then why would we abandon an adopted one? Is adoption our way of obeying the Father's call to care for widows and orphans? Is obeying Him more important than pleasing our families? Is redeeming children from the grave worth a life of "less than" for us? What, precisely, do we want to hand our children for an inheritance?

Two months ago my husband and I hauled our kids across a couple of states to attend my grandmother's funeral. During the drive we got a call from our adoption coordinator about a baby with Down's Syndrome. They knew from ultrasound that the child would be born with a heart defect, but one that was surgically correctable. The reason we knew we weren't the parents was the timing in our lives. The baby would be born, and therefore hospitalized, pretty close to the time we would be moving.  We mentioned to each other the fact that our families would not understand. But what had been a wall-like barrier years before now served only as a speed bump in our decision.

One of the biggest opponents to adopting a child with special needs had walked out of our lives. Had I seriously made choices about my children based on her opinions? My grandmother reminded me that some people will leave us through death. Any one of the people who say, "But what about your other kids? That isn't fair to them," could easily die tomorrow. How foolish to hold off loving & raising a precious child, designed for our family, because of the opinions of people that may die, or walk away. How stupid to design our family around the fears and prejudices of other people, even if they never leave. How dumb to be afraid of mere men.

But I will show you whom you should fear: Fear him who, after your body has been killed, has authority to throw you into hell. Yes, I tell you, fear him. Luke 12:5


And now, Israel, what does the LORD your God ask of you but to fear the LORD your God, to walk in obedience to him, to love him, to serve the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul, and to observe the LORD’s commands and decrees that I am giving you today for your own good? Deuteronomy 10:12-13

The LORD is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love.
He will not always accuse, nor will he harbor his anger forever; he does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities.  
For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us. 
As a father has compassion on his children, so the LORD has compassion on those who fear him
Psalm 103:8-13

I don't know if we'll ever adopt a child with special needs, or not. But I'm trying my best to fear only One opinion.

copyright (c) Elizabeth, Bug's Beef. All rights reserved.

The Fear of Man I

My husband and I are in the process to adopt a baby. We've been home studied approved for a year and a half. I started researching adoption agencies two years ago. We've spoken of, and planned, adoption since our courtship. This morning I wondered if I have actually been ready to adopt, though.

I was reading the blog of our adoption coordinator (Tracie) and noticed her tweets on the sidebar. One of Tracie's daughters met her birth mother for the first time yesterday. By reading between the lines of the 140 characters I felt Tracie's love for her daughter's birth mom.

As I walked away from my computer it dawned on me that up until this point I have not been fully ready to love the birth family of my child. I know from our two failed adoptions that I am really good at loving them through the matching process, but what happens after that? My link to my children's birth families is just as eternal as my link to my children. Am I ready for my life to reflect that? Would I have been too busy living my life to keep loving my babies' birth family?  There is a chance that busyness is actually a cover for fear.

There are a pile of things to be afraid of: they might try to take my babies away from me, they might be a horrible influence on my children, they might try to manipulate and steal from us, they might confuse my children, they might steal the hearts of my children, they might, they might, they might. . .

And yet.

In God I trust and am not afraid. What can man do to me? Psalm 56:11

God has got this. He has my family. He has my heart. Jesus has already walked us through two painful adoption situations. He can and will take us through anything else that comes.  No person can inflict the one wound that God can't heal.

Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins. 1 Peter 4:8

I am called to love. And that love has some power behind it. Not just some power, all power. Defeat the grave kinda power. I can't do it on my own, but Jesus can love through me. Oh, there are so many verses that talk about the love of God poured out in and through us. Here's just one:

And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.  Romans 5:5

So apparently I haven't been ready to have more children, because I don't have them. (God IS sovereign) But I am being better prepared every day. Another lesson/deep truth has been stirring within me for a couple of months. It needs to roll around in my brain a little bit more before I can articulate it clearly. So stay tuned for another fear of man that God has revealed and healed.

copyright (c) Elizabeth, Bug's Beef. All rights reserved.

Weesie & Papa

Weesie & Papa

My dad's parents turn 75 this year. My grandfather's birthday was at the beginning of February. My grandmother's is coming this summer. We were able to surprise them with a birthday party. It was quite a bit of fun. Rather than summarizing the party, I'll share the notes I wrote to them. It's much more fun to share how they have impacted me than how we honored them.

Hello my Weesie,

A part of me thinks it is silly to celebrate your birthday so far in advance. But I also know that I am not guaranteed the opportunity to tell you I love you in July. So I’m taking the chance I am given to say it now. I will give you a mug of your own this summer, though. J

I am quite grateful that you are my grandmother. The truly impoverished of this world are those who have not been as deeply loved by their grandparents as I have been. Thank you for being one of my biggest cheerleaders. Thank you for removing my splinters. Thank you for praying for me. Thank you for teaching me how to make killer mashed potatoes and sweet potato soufflé.

I am very sorry for the times I have been impatient with you. My disrespect was atrocious. I do esteem you. I not only love you, I like you! Some of my most cherished memories are sitting alone together, just visiting with one another.

I pray that God continues to give us many years to love each other. No matter what happens, though, you will be deeply loved as long as I am alive.

I love you!

-Elizabeth

Weesie with N & T

Papa,

What an honor to be able to call you my grandfather. I am deeply humbled and thankful to God that you are a part of my rich heritage. I am quite glad that I have been able to spend time with you since I became an adult. The more I know you, the more precious you become to me.

I look toward your example when I am attempting to mind my own business and hold my tongue. Because your corrections have been few, they have carried great weight in my life. You have only ever confronted me about two things. The first was an admonition to be careful when parking on the street to not squish people’s grass. The second was the life-saving truth that I will never be happy apart from Jesus.  As a result, I don’t smash people’s lawns and I now walk as a child of light. Thank you for being faithful to speak truth to me. God used you to draw me to Him.

I greatly cherish the time I get to spend with you. I enjoy hearing your stories. I like learning new things from you. I love being in your company.

As long as I have breath, I will love you.

Liz

Papa & T

What a treasure grandparents are! Call yours today, or write them a note, to tell them you love them. You don't know how much longer you'll get that privilege. (as exhibited by my previous post)

copyright (c) Elizabeth, Bug's Beef. All rights reserved.

Grandma Z.

My maternal grandmother died two weeks ago. My grandma was complex. One woman was a variety of women, depending on what season of life people met her in. She was at times an angry woman, a sad one, a tired woman, a focused one, a dancing woman or an encouraging woman. God worked in her heart throughout her life. Jesus used her death to teach me a number of lessons. Here is one of them:

God has been speaking to me about my attitude and words. When I called my cousin on Tuesday evening to tell her that Grandma had died she expressed gratitude that Grandma had finally received what she had been praying for. My grandma had been asking God to allow her to die for many years. My cousin also expressed sympathy for Grandma being trapped inside a deteriorating body for so long. After our conversation I felt gently chastised by Jesus for not having an attitude more like my cousin's. The difference was striking. My cousin knows that Grandma struggled with anger and bitterness, but she didn't focus on that.

One morning while travelling for the memorial service the Bible app on my phone had this as my daily verse: Listen to advice and accept instruction, that you may gain wisdom in the future. Proverbs 19:20  So I went out prepared to listen, knowing that I would gain wisdom in the future. (It struck me that I wouldn't be wise today, but in the future) Before leaving the guestroom, though, I also read through Hebrews 12. Verse 10 jumped out at me. Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor. My goodness, I had not shown honor to my grandmother since her life had become a memory.

The obituary my mom wrote for my grandma was in the paper that day. It was quite honoring. My mom taught me so much in how she presented her mother to the world. She never lied, she maintained her integrity. But she did chose to honor her mama.

I am choosing to speak honoring words of my grandmother now. I am not being dishonest, I am not repainting her portrait. But I am going to focus on the positive. The truth is I had previously been focusing on the negative. I've not ever met somebody that lopsided. She was not entirely angry and mean. I will set my mind and speech on the godly characteristics while learning warning (hopefully) from the fleshly ones.

Here is the obituary. I pray others treat my memory like my mom treated my grandma, not the way I did.

Betty Z.

April, 1928 ~ February, 2012

Betty  was born April, 1928 to Orval and Adelaide at their farm home outside Valentine, Nebraska, the youngest of three children. She lived on the family farm until she started high school. Her parents moved to town in 1943. Her older brother, Dick, loved to say she was "the only girl and spoiled rotten," but a hard-working farm life did not lend itself to spoiling anyone. She attended the Lincoln General School of Nursing in Lincoln, Nebraska, and gained her Registered Nurse diploma. She worked as a nurse in Hastings and Valentine, NE.

Betty married Donald  Z on October 15 at the Methodist Church in Valentine, Nebraska. To that marriage were born 4 children: Donald, Richard, Lawrence and Jean. There were two defining events in her life: removal of a malignant spinal tumor in 1958, which made her a paraplegic and accepting Jesus Christ as her Lord and Savior in 1964. From the first event, she was left with constant pain, and she learned to persevere, to do what had to be done. From the second, she learned that she could depend on Someone else to help her get through each day, and that there was hope for tomorrow.

Betty and Don moved to Loveland, Colorado in 1998, just two weeks before his death. She moved to the Loveland Good Samaritan Village in 2001. She never lost her love of Nebraska football, remaining a Big Red fan until her death on February, 2012 at Medical Center of the Rockies in Loveland, Colorado.

Betty loved to fish, crochet, read, watch football and bake. She was well-known for her baking, especially her cinnamon rolls. She was interested in learning new things throughout her life, including learning how to use a computer, and a Kindle for reading. In her years at Good Samaritan, she became an encouragement to many others.

She was preceded in death by her brother, Dick in WWII; both parents, brother, William; and husband, Don. She is survived by Don and Bonnie Z, Richard and Lori Z, Larry and Sherri Z, and Jean and Jerry H; 11 grandchildren; and 9 great-grandchildren, with 2 more on the way.

Betty could say with the Apostle Paul that "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith."

copyright (c) Elizabeth, Bug's Beef. All rights reserved.

crashing

im sitting at the airport, typing on my new fangled phone. im glad it allows me to write, though i can not figure out how to capitalize or use other common punctuations. please pardon the mess.

the title does not refer to planes. thankfully. today it is grief that is crashing in on me. as we drove to the airport the reality of our coming move overwhelmed me. i had forgotten what the depths of mourning felt like. my heart ache is so great that my chest literally hurts. my breathe keeps catching and choking me.

we are going to see the new area where we are to live. we will move in about five months. my husband has a meeting with his new employer. the facts sound so boring. i wish there was a font that dripped down the page. not that i could figure out how to use it.

the prospect of leaving behind my sisters, nieces, nephews, friends, and church family is inducing nausea. i know that jesus is a god who gives. but right now it feels like everything is being taken away from me. it feels like this move is just for my husband, and i am along for the ride. i feel quite alone and unloved by god.

good thing feelings do not dictate reality. i stubbornly believe that christ is for me. because he says so. if only my heart will catch up with my head. . .

but now i am off to purchase an  over priced sandwich and rejoice with my son that our plane has landed and awaits us.

by the way, it was super brutal to not capitalize every reference to jesus. at least my respect has not waned within this great sadness

copyright (c) Elizabeth, Bug's Beef. All rights reserved.

One Month Without a Scale

My, but have I learned somethings about myself this past month.

Week 1 - Detox
I knew I didn't have a healthy relationship with my scale, but I didn't realize just how bad I was until I suddenly didn't have it anymore.

I used to weigh myself every day except Sundays. (I would take a sabbath rest from self loathing.) By the time I tossed that tool, though, I was weighing myself upwards of three times a day. Not healthy. Also, not helpful. When I threw out my scale my son was two months old and I had lost NO baby weight. I was literally down just 7 pounds from the day I had him. He weighed 7 pounds at birth.

I felt the emptiness in the bathroom each time I went in for the first week. Each time I entered I looked toward the spot where it had been.  Feeling the great void confirmed how much I had been abusing the scale.

Week 2 - Wrestling and Relief

I have said for years that I don't care what the scale says as long as I look good and feel good. I am blessed to have super strong bones and muscles. So I carry a lot more weight than I appear to.  Suddenly not having a specific number to judge myself by, though, threw that declaration into question.  My thoughts seemed to mock me, "You say you don't care what the scale says: Prove it."

The problem, though, is that I neither look good nor feel good. I am overweight, and it shows. I had one very sad day of realizing that I so very much want to be thin. But right now I'm just not. Why it took me getting rid of my scale to realize this, I don't know. But no longer having the distraction of dancing numbers forced me to acknowledge that I didn't meet my own definition of beauty.

I had a few days when my feet, knees and back were really hurting me. Convinced it was because of my weight I was frustrated that I didn't have the scale available to confirm my suspicions. Not that it would have helped my joints feel better, but I wanted something to join in on the assault of self. 

That's the wrestling. Here's the relief that came in week 2: I started drinking water when I was thirsty and only went to the bathroom to use the plumbing-related facilities. When I would weigh myself everyday I wanted to see as low a number as possible. If I knew I was heading to the bathroom, I would wait to get a drink until afterwards. Now, this only delayed my re-hydrating by about three minutes, but still: that's ridiculous. 

Week 3 - Decisions

Since my main tool to measure my health was gone I had to start looking toward other metrics. The other ones I used were a bit subjective, though.  Looking at my reflection, or down at my flesh was a bit brutal. Squeezing my various parts was even more unpleasant. Testing my body by the fit of my clothing was also awful as pretty much everything pinched. Ugh.  So what to do?

I decided to go with my reflection and my clothing. Though jeans do fit differently straight from the dryer than they do after the second wearing, they are pretty consistent overall. I have a couple of landmarks on my body that I was watching, too. The main one was the rolls of back fat that appeared with this most recent pregnancy. Gross. It looks like I carried him in my back, not my abdomen.

I made one other decision: reduce my sugar. It's my gateway drug. I can eat nutritious, balanced meals for days on end. Give me one cookie, though, and I'm soon swallowing a half dozen cookies, then washing them down with hot cocoa. This is the first I've mentioned it. I find it so much easier for me to make healthy changes all by myself. I don't know why. Most every weight-loss expert says to have a support team. My success comes from quiet focus, though. Anyhow, I am now eating fruit for my sweet-fixes. Except for Sundays.  I allow myself one sweet treat on Sundays at our church's weekly potluck. And my husband bringing me something sweet is an allowed "cheat". He pretty much never thinks about adding sugar at the end of meals, (crazy head) so if he hands me a foil-wrapped chocolate morsel I take it as a kiss from God.  It's funny, but I almost didn't write this paragraph because I'm afraid my man will read it and withhold chocolate from me now. Another indication of my esteeming chocolate way too much.

Week 4 - Progress

I think I may have lost a few pounds. But I don't know for sure! Arg! I'm doing pretty good about the reduced-sugar-thing. It's hard because there have been a lot of special occasions lately. When I fall off the wagon, though, I just hop back on next meal. I don't wait until Monday or next month to eat well again.  I've done crunches a few times. My abdominal muscles are still split from my pregnancy, so it takes shockingly little time to feel the burn. Today I was actually pleasantly surprised when I put on my jeans. Though they're still a little snug at the waist, I'm not sporting the muffin top I had a month ago. And my ew-gross rolls on my back look like they might actually be getting a little smaller.  I will for-sure do a happy dance when they are gone. But progress is progress. Woo hoo!

I tossed my scale last month, but I did keep the paper that used to rest on it.

It never made me cry, but it also never made me thin.

copyright (c) Elizabeth, Bug's Beef. All rights reserved.

Dare we ask?

So many people stand in the first week of January, look over the empty calendar, and wonder with curious expectation what is coming.  I'm usually one of those people.

January 2011 found my husband and me getting numerous calls from our adoption coordinator asking if we wanted to be presented to various birth moms. Our answer was always a resounding, "yes!" Last January the only thing I was confident that was going to happen during the year was our adoption, our anniversary and our birthdays. I was right about our 6th anniversary, right about my first born turning three, and right about my husband and I sinking deeper into our 30s. But that was all I was right about. Here's how my year unfolded (all unexpected, unplanned):

January: Chosen by a birth mom. Start serving in new ministry. Celebrate the 8th anniversary of my salvation. Meet birth mom. Turn in massive pile of paperwork. Write checks. Scammed. Defrauded. No baby. Money gone. Heart broken.

February: Grieve. Anger stage more closely resembles rage. Jesus quickly heals. Shock: Stare at two blue lines on a pregnancy test. Drop to my knees, sobbing praise and thanks to God for the impossible.

March: Matched with another birth mom. Meet with detective and secret service agent about scam. I start spotting. Sob. Drop off son. Sob. Dash to ultrasound. Sob in relief and gratitude. There's a heartbeat! Our baby is alive. And could it be that we can already see he's a boy? No fraud, but no baby. Birth mom chose to parent the baby. Happy Birthday to me. Celebrate my first born's birthday with family & friends. Announce pregnancy.

April: Learn all sorts of awesome things in Scripture. My journal has too many entries and they are too great of truths to summarize. Sweet time.

May: Speak at Ladies' Retreat for my church. Attend graduation of best friend. Cheer as she enters the profession I have left behind. Ultrasound confirms that yes, we are having another boy. Another healthy boy. Celebrate six years of marriage with my man. Head to the Lake.

June: Mind, body, spirit refreshed by reading Hebrews, 1 Peter,  and The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.

July: My husband is offered a job out of nowhere. It is on the other side of the country. Are we moving?!?

August: Routine checkup reveals my son's heart is fast and irregular. Level 2 ultrasound 2 days later shows a beautiful, healthy heart. An immature electrical system in T's heart lead to worry in mine.

September: The Lake with family. We ARE moving, but *only* 10 hours away from my beloved family & home.

October: Say "hello" to due date. Say "good-bye" to due date. Sweet T is born at home. (Read more here. Brave first road trip to Branson as a family of four. Happy Birthday to my man.

November: Leave position at ministry started in January. Thanksgiving.

December: Christmas. Begin process of preparing heart and home for move this summer.

And that was just my immediate family.  The brain-aching twists and turns in my extended family were extraordinary, also.

So, dare I ask what is coming this year? No, not today. The first week of 2012 has been lovely. I've enjoyed it. I'm going to enjoy it.

I know that my asking, or not, will not change the course laid out for me this coming year. I'm just ditching my normal pattern of filling my mind with worry, speculation & tentative plans for every possibility. I'm going to live my life. The ever-changing, good, unexpected life I am blessed to have.

copyright (c) Elizabeth, Bug's Beef. All rights reserved.