Hi, friends.

Last year you helped me raise $1,000 to change the story for 5 girls in Russia needing safety and rescue and freedom. This year, I’m excited to change the story for the kids that I’ve seen with my own eyes, held in my own arms, and visited in their homes. I mean the kids in Uganda. I’m whittling down my personal Christmas list and giving it to the kids who are nestled in my heart, the kids who write me letters about the true meaning of Christmas. They never mention toys or gifts. They talk about Jesus Christ and pray blessings for me and my family. Would you help me bless them back, with money for food, water, clothing, medical care, and school supplies? I’ve had the privilege of visiting 6 of the 9 HopeChest CarePoints in Uganda, and these programs are making huge differences in the lives of the children and communities they serve. I can’t wait to watch the thermometer rise this Christmas season! Click here to go to my personal page.

Life is overflowing with shimmering blessings from a generous God.  Fresh ground coffee out of a newly opened bag from Ethiopia, the second most wonderful thing that we brought back with us from Addis.  The first, by a long shot, Evelyn, who grows more delightful every day.  This morning I took her to music class for the first time.  She loved it, exploring the different instruments and parachute time and bubbles, and always seeking me out, returning to my lap.  Beautiful attachment benchmarks and I don’t take anything for granted.  Playing and fighting and laughing and screaming and chortling with Elliott as they make up games and play pretend and sharpen each other, refine each other as brother and sister for life.  Adorable God-gifts hiding behind my curtains to jump out, “Boo!”  Dissolving into giggles.  An emotional roller coaster each day for sure, but a ride worth the risk.  I put my hands up and scream on the Evie-coaster as my hair blows back and I feel my stomach drop with G-forcyness.  Did Elliott really just hug her and help her up the stairs?  ”Evie, don’t cry, God loves you.”  Yes, that just happened.  Watching the words and songs and lessons and conversations that I stir into my kids waft out of them as beautiful lovingkindness.  And then screaming and “She hit me!”  We’re not perfect.  But my home feels shiny and bursting.  God is generous.

And I want to settle in and cozy down.  But there is still work to do.  Tom Davis said at Free to Live, “We live like we’re on vacation when we need to live like we’re at war.”  Still so many children without arms to hug them and laps to sit on and someone to tell them that God made them and loves them and Jesus wants to be their friend forever.  In the throws of this new insanely difficult juggling routine of growing from one to two kids, I struggle to come out of the fog and remember the other kids.  The ones I’ve hugged and fed and cried for their pain.  Adacar in my head, nestled against the comfort of my kids making a fort out of the fuzzy blanket in the living room.  And my kids here need me and my kids there need me.

Three more Adacar kids sponsored this week.  God is so so generous.  He doesn’t give up on us and I will not will not give up on Adacar.  Finding the balance between creating a cozy home of memories and warmth and love and allowing all that love to flow out of my house and into the world.

My heart is going to explode from the fullness of God at work in our home.  How can He fill us this full?  How can the barren woman watch her two children make s’mores make forts make messes in every room in the house?  Thanksgiving.  From June, gritting my teeth and weeping and giving Him thanks in the midst of the sorrow of smothered dreams, not knowing when we’d have our family on one continent, to November, thanksgiving freely flowing.  Both beautiful, both my heart desiring to honor the Lord.  And I’m so thankful to God that He gave me the strength to thank Him in the hard times.  It makes thankfulness in the good times that much more joyous, that much sweeter.

My favorite part of Thanksgiving dinner has always been the stuffing.  Oh how I am stuffed with thanksgiving this season.  Stuffed and overflowing and in awe of the Father of heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.  Every good and perfect gift comes from Him.  Perfect.

I’ve wondered the past couple of years what the theater thing was for.  Why did God give me a love of theater that led me to major in it and then play around with it (forgive the intentional pun!) after college for awhile?  Putting myself through all those painful auditions…and I was awkward and not naturally gifted at it and why did I do it?  Why did I feel compelled to practice getting up in front of people over and over?

God wastes nothing.  For the last two years, He’s called me to get up in front of people again, only this time, it hasn’t been to attempt to dramatize a character, but to reflect His character, to advocate for the fatherless in Adacar.

For some reason, in about a month, I’m getting another chance to talk to 1,000s of people about these kids.  Every time I get up in front of people with child profiles in my shaking hands, I’m overwhelmed with the responsibility and a little sweaty and desperate for the right words to come out.  I was never very good at trying to be somebody else.  But I love getting to reflect God’s heart for these kids.  And maybe all those years of audition torture and failing miserably was God’s boot camp for me to take the stage for Adacar.

We are about to launch a dramatic campaign to get the remaining profiled children secured with sponsors before the end of the year.  No child left unsponsored by 2012.  Because we have work to do in Adacar and I am done getting letters from unsponsored kids.  I am putting on my game face, strapping on my mom balls, and standing up for these kids once again.  The leftovers.  The ones that haven’t been chosen.  The ones who were chosen, then forgotten.  No more.  They are getting off my desk and into peoples’ homes, onto peoples’ refrigerators, and into peoples’ hearts.  It’s on.  Somebody give me the microphone.  This momma’s taking the stage.  Mwahahahaha!  God help us all.