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I have posted some awesome new cornrow pictures over at my new blog: Braids, Beads, Truth Check them out! -Sherri
The first few days after we received the adoption referral are burned forever in my mind. Two daughters instead of one. Suddenly, my life path had taken a completely unexpected turn. Over and over the same question arose in our home?
“How can we possibly parent five children?”
The question may have been the same but it was set in a slightly different context each time. Sometimes, we wondered how we would have the space in our home. Others, we questioned if it were possible to fit so many booster seats into our van. Many times, I asked myself if I had the emotional, mental, spiritual, and physical resources to be a mother of five.
Most of all, we wondered how on earth we would ever financially provide for so many children.
Then, God led me to an amazing passage of scripture which gave us the courage to say “yes” to our new daughters.
“Remember this: Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows generously will also reap generously. Each man should give what he has decided in his heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work. As it is written:
”He has scattered abroad his gifts to the poor; his righteousness endures forever.” Now he who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will also supply and increase your store of seed and will enlarge the harvest of your righteousness. You will be made rich in every way so that you can be generous on every occasion, and through us your generosity will result in thanksgiving to God.” 2 Corinthians 9:6-11
There have been so many times in the past two years in moments of desperation that my heart turned back to the promise that God would provide seed to sow into the lives of my children.
Seeds of wisdom when I don’t know how to guide…
Seeds of courage when the problem before me seems insurmountable….
Seeds of endurance when it seems I labor endlessly with no sign of the fruit of my labors………
Seeds of joy when the road before us is marked with sorrow……
Seeds of hope…..
Seeds of peace……..
Seeds of financial resources to provide for my children.
This morning as I drove away from the orthodontist’s office, I turned to God’s promise of provision once again. Suddenly, we find ourselves in the position of having two children go into braces at the same time. (That is about $6,000.00 for those of you who don’t know.) We have already paid out about that much on other orthodontic endeavors.
Four out of the five are sure to need braces. Three of the five are in glasses. My almost thirteen year old grows out of his jeans over night it seems.
So, as I drove out of the orthodontist’s parking lot I made a decision that instead of worrying out loud in front of my children, I would pray out loud and claim God’s promise once again.
“Father,
You promised me when I committed my life to these five children that you would provide seed for sowing into their lives. Well, the seed in the bag is getting a little low. It is time for a fill up. My trust is in you. ~Amen”
I believe, I truly believe, the seed is on its way.
Today is the day! If you are interested in the care, styling, history or anything else to do with African hair, check out my new blog: www.braidsbeadstruth.wordpress.com
Give me your feedback in the comments and pass on the link!
Sherri
The anniversary of her homecoming whispered some secret incantation over her soul and summoned the ghosts of the past. They swirl about her heart and mind, one moment drawing her into longing for land and first family lost, the next flinging her into old terrors and griefs. Somehow, here in the present, part of her is submersed in what came before and she acts out all her old parts in the play of her life.
Such a effervescent child, but day in and day out eyes that normally twinkle with humor and mischief are rimmed with tears. She lays her head down on her arms as she watches me prepare dinner.
“What is wrong, sweetheart?” I ask “You look so sad…”
“I don’t know, Mommy,” and her voice breaks with tears as she struggles to understand what is in her own heart.
Such a sweet child, but now she is sullen and uncooperative. I take deep breaths and we take breaks from each other so I can pray. I am frustrated, and selfishly do not want to go there again. I know it is not logical but part of me just wants her to be free, to be whole. But the journey to wholeness is long and at times, the going is slow. Sometimes we lose our way and find ourselves backtracking over the same rugged terrain so familiar we know every stone in the path.
I pray some more and there I find strength, comfort, and sweet hope sufficient for us both. I call her to me and we sit on the upstairs porch of our home. It is cool and dark, but we are wrapped in the soft white glow of lights hung on the railing.
“”Let’s talk about Haiti.” I say. “I’m not angry, sweetheart. I just want to understand and I want to help you. I want you to try to remember,” I say softly.
“I was in my bed,” she says. She is breaking now at the memory. The tears flow freely down her face and she grips my hand desperately. “It was when I first came there and it was so dark. There was no light.”
“What were you feeling?” I ask.
“I was so, so scared!”
And then she is in my arms. She molds herself against me and wraps arms and legs around me. I hold her near and we both weep for awhile. I whisper in her ear how sorry I am that she was afraid and alone. I grieve with her for all she lost. 
And then I lead her to Hope.
“God is big,” I say. “He is big enough to heal all hurts. He is so big, he can take anything that happens in our lives, no matter how terrible, and turn it into blessing.” “Do you believe that?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says. “I believe.”
And I think we have made it to a new path in the journey.
The clock is ticking and the countdown has begun. My new blog: BRAIDS, BEADS, TRUTH will be launched Monday, March 24th. Keep your eyes out for the link! – Sherri
The Watoto African Children’s Choir came to town last night and afterwards we were a host family for two boys and their chaperon. After the boys and their guardian stashed their backpacks in the room we had prepared for them, we gathered in the kitchen to find out who was hungry.
Immediately, the polite young men indicated they would love to have some “fruits” and I began to cut oranges for them as they sat at the bar watching me. Edward, age 7 was effervescent. Stephen, age 11 was sweet and shy. As they ate we talked about the differences between American, Ugandan and Haitian food. When I told them my daughter from Haiti loved Mangoes their eyes sparkled.
“Do you have mangoes in Uganda?” I asked. They eagerly nodded their heads in affirmation. Then, very quietly Stephen shared with us the very best thing about food at his orphanage in Uganda.
“We get chicken on Sundays.”
Ahh. Chicken on Sundays. I assured him I understood just how wonderful that was as my mind filled with memory. When my older daughter came home from Haiti, it was obvious that to have a chicken leg was an incredible luxury. The entire family watched in amazement as she cleaned the bone thoroughly, leaving no trace of meat, or even sinew behind. When no more could be gleaned she would take the bone and dip it in the sauce. Last of all, she broke the bone in two in order to extract the marrow. Her new siblings where horrified by this.
“Mom! She is eating the BONE!!!!”
Gently, I took the bone from her and placed a new chicken leg on her plate.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said. “There is more…”
I don’t think I will ever forget the wonder expressed on her face that there was more.
I never want my children to reach the point they take for granted that they always have enough to eat but I have to admit that I am very thankful my daughter has had her fill for so long that she has forgotten that desperate urgency true hunger burns into the human soul. She no longer snaps the bone in two. Sometimes, she even leaves some meat behind.
When we received the referral of our daughters, I wrote a poem describing my feelings about them entitled, Enough. That was so long ago. When I read back over the poem now, I find there truth mixed with naivety. The reality is that the road to healing for a child who has been traumatized by loss, need, and injury is long. It is a job only God can accomplish. I am just so thankful He allows me to be a part of it and while I many not ever be enough, His resources are without limit.
Therein lies hope. Sweet, sure, eternal hope.
Amen.
Periodically I quit my writing career. I decided last night my current resignation is long overdue. Unfortunately, there is no one to hand my “I Quit Letter” to but myself and that takes a bit of the fun out of it.
I just get so sick of working so hard to get nowhere sometimes.
I think I heard an “Amen” from all other writers out there.
Yesterday I just had one of those days where I stepped back and said, “I am working myself to death rearing five kids while my husband works himself to death to make put food on the table so why on earth would I want to add another job that doesn’t pay?”
Out of curiosity, I decided to look back in the posts to find the last time I quit. Looks like it was around last July. I think that is a pretty good stretch so, while I quit you can go ahead and read what I wrote back then. It is entitled Get a Job!
And if my last resignation is any indication (Hey, that rhymes. Maybe I have a future in children’s books…)I should be back at the keyboard in less than 24 hours.
I always dream in color. This time, the dream began with his face. He was older than me, 65 or 70. His hair was still thick though washed silver with time. The expression on his face was pleasant and jovial, not at all what one what one would expect of an executioner.
He delivered the message matter of factly, without malice. It was nothing personal really, he was just doing his job. It was policy to serve notice to the condemned so he told me that the night I was living was my last on earth and when the morning light dawned, I would die.
I was not in prison, but at home and I knew beyond doubt I had done no wrong. I was equally sure of the truth that it did not matter. The decision had been rendered and all that remained was to say my good-byes. How could it be that I felt no fear? A strange, palatable, but indescribable peace lay all around me. Yet, although the peace banished terror and wrapped me in comfort, sorrow remained.
My husband. My children. I knew it would not be forever, that one day we would be reunited in Paradise but I was so, so sorry to say good-bye.
“I am 13, almost 14,” my oldest son said. “and you are leaving.”
The others crowded around me and we wept. Then, I called to them, “Come to me. Let me pray for you.”
Then, the images faded and one question filled my mind, “If you knew you would die tomorrow, how would you spend your last night on earth?”
I responded without hesitation. “I would stay awake all night and pray for my children.”
I awoke suddenly and looked at my watch. It was 3:45am. The strength and weight of the dream still hung all around me. There would be no going back to sleep.
And so I prayed for my husband and I prayed for my children.
I prayed as if it were my last night on earth.
“Is any one of you sick? He should call the elders of the church to pray over him and anoint him with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise him up. If he has sinned, he will be forgiven. Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective.” James 5:14-16 NIV
My new African hair “how to” article on Zulu Knots is up at Rainbow Kids. If you are interested in African hair check it out!
Also, I am making great progress on the new site. I hope to announce a launch date by the end of this week.
