Every fall the same thing happens.  As the mornings grow cooler and cooler, I feel a sense of anticipation in the air.  I wake up with an expectation of greatness, the feeling that something exciting is headed my way.  I love crisp air and chilly breezes, crunchy leaves and layered clothing.  My season of dreaminess.  I sip hot coffee and fantasize about a yard full of kids jumping in huge piles of leaves.  And every year the number of kids in my head increases.  This year, I have an even greater sense of anticipation.  At any moment, my phone could ring, bringing news of my baby and our future as a family.  I can’t concentrate.  Each day I try to “Love the moment,” as my coffee cup reminds me.  I play with Elliott and friends and run errands and do the laundry.  The zoo, the park, the library, music class, books books books, building forts and working puzzles.  I know my time with just Elliott is coming to a close.  In some ways I don’t ever want it to end, and in other ways RING, PHONE, RING RING RING!!! 

I found a good deal on a crib and went ahead and bought it.  I went through Elliott’s old clothes and pulled out a few things to hang in the closet, just to make it look like an actual child will live in our guest room at some point.  Looking through Elliott’s old clothes reminds me of how tiny he was, my little four-pounder.  Where has the time gone?  When did he get tall enough to reach the sink?  I treasure these years with Elliott.  I don’t want to miss a moment because I’m too wrapped up in waiting for more.  Elliott is enough right now.  He is my now.  And soon Baby Slash boygirl will be my now, too.  RING, PHONE, RING!!!

We are off to Nabukalu for church. We exit the bus to singing children — my heart continues to expand with joy. Martin Huggins shares a sermon on the power of joy during difficult times and Sarah Dale leads the kids in singing.

We spend most of the day playing with the kids — handing out handmade dresses and stringing together beaded necklaces. The kids are so eager to get their gifts that they overrun us, and we have to escape to the bus — phew. We definitely need to come up with a better game plan.

I break out some balls and 40 kids challenge me to a soccer game. I keep up with them fairly well until a sink hole wrenches my knee. I hobble of the field — humbled but no broken bones — thank you, Lord.

We say goodbye to the kids and head to the hotel in Bugiri. During my freezing shower, I am repeatedly shocked by the shower knobs. That can’t be good. I turn off the light and the electric shock sends me across the room — I’m getting out of this torture chamber. Melanie and I squeeze into our tiny bed and turn in shifts to tuck in the mosquito nets. I watch a gecko scurry across the ceiling — maybe he’ll catch that spider who has been eyeing my pillow. Time for sleep. Pitch black. The kind of black that makes you forget the light. I squeeze my pillow a little harder and listen as mosquitoes dive bomb the net. Bzzzzz. Bzzzzz. Bzzzz. I hope that the force field holds.

Christmas and New Year’s are in the rearview mirror, but that doesn’t mean it’s time for you to put away those Christmas lights quite yet (ok, some of you leave them up yearlong, but we’ll leave that discussion for another time). We need you to grab all of your glowy stuff — string lights, glow sticks, reflector tape, your kids’ lightsaber (or in my case, my lightsaber) — and fasten it to your golf cart for what promises to be an exciting night in Peachtree City. Once we are all glowed up, we are going to drive our carts through Peachtree City and end up at 306 Landaulet Court for desserts, super hot chocolate and coffee (cause it’s going to be bone-aching cold), prizes and a presentation from Children’s HopeChest on how you can help orphans in Africa. We are already excited to see so many people participating in this event. Today, The Citizen published an article about Karts for Kids.  If you plan to participate, please RSVP to Melanie Dale at melanie(at)wakinggiants(dot)com or by phone/text message at 770-617-8497. Learn more on our Karts for Kids page.

We feel like we’re waking up after a ridiculously long slumber. Not a refreshing power nap, but the kind where you fall asleep on the couch and wake up four hours later with your hair mooshed to one side and dried drool crusting your eyelids closed. Disoriented. Drugged. Yeah, that’s how we feel. 

We’re waking up to the poverty in the world, the helpless hopeless. For too long, we didn’t want to hear about suffering. We focused on our own pain and shut out the world. Then God blew our minds. 

He has such gigantic plans. He can use us to do gigantic things for His kingdom. We are no longer content to shut out the world and curl in our beds with the covers up over our ears. We’re waking giants. The unlikeliest people chosen to care. And there’s no turning back.