Ugh, waiting stinks.  Some days I’m fine and other days I’m ready to crawl up a wall or under a blanket with a fluffy pillow to squeeze.  I’m having a hard time focusing right now, so I’m making a list of everything that I have to look forward to in the next couple of months.  This will likely be very boring for everyone else but me.

1. Trip to Memphis to meet Lindsey and Le, Ruta, and Alazar.  So slobbering excited about that.  We’re doing the Mojo Music Bus Tour and staying right on Beale Street.  I love the blues, and I loooovvve Lindsey and fam, who I feel like are our counterparts in Oklahoma City.  Can’t wait to talk sponsorship coordinators, Uganda, Ethiopia, adoption, and do some major laughing and celebrating, all while listening to killer music and eating barbeque.

2. The final batch of Adacar profiles should arrive any day now.  I keep checking the mail to see if they’ve come.  I’m just really excited to get all the kids sponsored.  Right now I have a ton of people to follow up with, but slowly I’m seeing my database of kids be filled with sponsors’ names.  Still a lot of blank ones, but people are slowly getting their payments set up.  And we’re making progress on the CarePoint.  More about that when I have concrete info.

3. HopeChest’s partner conference followed by the Together for Adoption conference.  I’m so excited to have quality face-to-face and hugging time with the Warrior Girls and to get to see Joseph (Uganda country director) again.  And to meet more and more and more adoptive parents.  Honestly, I’m meeting so many adoptive parents these days that it almost seems weird to me when I meet a family with all biological kids.  “Like, really?  You made all of these and they all look like you?  Weird!”  Ha!

4. Back to school!  I know, it’s cruel and unusual for me to look forward to that, but I abhor summer and all things shorts and sweating.  I love getting all my high school girls back on a regular basis, cooler weather, layering clothing, and being able to take Elliott to the park without getting a third degree burn.  Fall frolicking is around the corner, and as the leaves die, I start to live.  And one of my favorite things in fall is Vertical Reality, the fall retreat with the high school students.  I can’t wait to spend a whole weekend away with them.  We’ll have so much to talk about, starting high school and all.  I wouldn’t repeat that for a million dollars, but I love walking this road with them.

5. A referral?  Fall should mean we get to “meet” our little one, at least on paper.  I’m so excited to find out boy or girl, and hopefully that knowledge will give me lots to dream of and work on through the winter until we finally get to go.  In the meantime, I am happy to report that we’ve found a delicious Ethiopian restaurant in Atlanta (Thank you, Beattys!!), and I’ll be making lots of trips there to soak up the culture and shovel in the food.  As some of you know, Alex and I tried Ethiopian food years ago in Georgetown and it was terrible!  I love almost every kind of food on the planet, so I’ve just been sick about it (both literally for 24 hours after and figuratively).  I’ve been praying for God to allow me to love it, because both Ethiopia and food are such huge parts of my family.  Anyway, one bite at Queen of Sheba last week and we realized that Ethiopian food is DELICIOUS!  Our first experience in Georgetown must’ve just been BAD Ethiopian food, just like I’ve had bad American food.  Queen of Sheba was good, good, good, oh so good, and Elliott adored it, too, rising on his knees over the big family-style plate and scooping up the food with injera.

Okay, that’s enough anticipation for one post.  And just typing it all out has elevated me from my waiting funk and reminded me of what’s to come.  I also want to balance all the things to come with the things of NOW, because I don’t want to live in the future.  The now is good and is not to be wasted.  The now is digging into God, spending time with friends, kissing my husband, building really tall Lego towers with Elliott, helping unite sponsors with kids in Adacar, wearing my cute Sseko sandals (maybe the one benefit of summer weather in Georgia), and spending precious minutes with my parents.  Two of my close friends lost their parents last week, and I’m reminded that life is fleeting, there are no guarantees, and I want to enjoy every minute.  So, this post is kind of rambly, but I think I just blogged myself into a really hopeful and positive mood.

Hey, Baby Slash.  Mommy’s been busy hopping planes and holding orphans, watching God unite kiddos with sponsor families.  It’s been amazing.  I love being part of God’s plan for these kids.   I get to be the one who holds up the big neon sign saying, “Look at how awesome my God is!”  I love being a sign-holder for God.  He’s done some pretty neon-praiseworthy things lately.

This week, as I’ve waved my awesome-God sign and seen my orphan profile packets dwindle to 17 lonely teenagers in need of sponsors (only 17 more!), my thoughts have fluttered over to you more and more.  It’s hard for me to think about you too much right now.  I can help hundreds and hundreds of orphans, but I can’t help you right now, MY orphan.  My Slash, who is an orphan right now but won’t be soon cuz Mommy.  Is.  Coming.  To.  Get.  You.  Oh, I wish it was tomorrow.  I wish it was today.  I just want to hold you hold you hold you forever and I want forever to start now!  Slash!  I miss you, buddy.  I miss you and I haven’t even met you yet.  Yesterday Elliott said that he thinks you’re a baby sister.  I think you’re a baby brother.  I can’t wait to find out what you are.  Last week I watched girls make beaded necklaces and then yesterday I bought girly clothes for your new cousin who’ll be about your age, and I wanted you to be a GIRL!  But then last week I watched two brothers play ball together and yesterday I watched Elliott swim with the boys, and I wanted you to be a BOY!  Pretty much I’m excited about you no matter what you are.  Whatever you are, you’re going to fit into my family, your family, our family.  We’ve been 3 for 3 years now.  I want to be 4…and then if God wants to double or triple that number, I’m all for it, as long as they’re not all toddlers at the same time. 

Slash, okay, I’m just going to be really real with you right now, Mommy has tears in her eyes thinking about you.  I’ve held babies in Africa now.  Baby Slash, some of them are sick.  Their hair is bleached light with malnutrition and their eyes are sickly yellow and some of them have malaria and are anemic and need nutrients.  Oh buddy, is your hair too light?  Are your eyes yellow?   Do you have malaria?  Do you have a parasite or ringworm or a rumbly, hungry belly?  Do you need Mommy to kiss it and make it better?  I want to take you to Publix and get you a cookie while we wait for your antibiotics that’ll kill all the bugs living in you.  I want to fatten you up with Chick-fil-A chocolate milkshakes with some Juice Plus gummies on the side for good measure.  Slash, please hold on.  I am coming for you.  I’m going to make you yummy smoothies, and full disclosure, I hide spinach in my smoothies, so prepare to receive nutrients on the sly, sweet child.

I just put Elliott to bed.  Someday soon, you’ll sleep in the room right next to his.  Daddy and I will read you both stories and brush your teeth and pray with you.  This month, Elliott and I have been thanking God for making him.  “Thanks, God, for making Elliott’s laugh.  Thanks, God, for making Elliott’s blue eyes….”  I’m thanking God for making you, too, and I can’t wait to thank Him together.  Thanks, God, for making Slash’s big brown eyes.  Thanks, God, for making Slash’s sweet smile.  Thanks, God, for making Slash’s curly hair…Thanks, God, for making Slash for our family.

One of our new Adacar sponsors emailed me today.  I cannot stop crying over the power of our God to heal, to bring light and goodness out of the worst of circumstances.  I am humbled and privileged to get to share these words from David Lotti, a member of Southside Church, with you.  His own words are so powerful that I have simply copied them here, so that you can experience his story the way that I did this afternoon.

“Our child is Jenifer.  My wife and I are thrilled at this opportunity.  I lost a son 5 years ago in a plane crash in Peru.  He had spent the previous 2 years building water reclamation projects for villages in the jungle for the Peace Corps.  He originally had spent a summer in Africa building a school house in Kenya.  He joined the Corps hoping to return to Africa.  He got detoured to Bolivia, I guess by the hand of God.  After seeing the beautiful children yesterday, I knew then why my son fell in love with the people (especially the children).  In this very small way we are returning our son, his love and ours back to Africa.  I hope all the children found sponsors.  Jenifer’s picture is above this computer as I write.  Thank you for making this happen.”

I wrote him back, sobbing at my computer, and asked his permission to share his story.  This is how he responded:

“ABSOLUTELY.  We have LOST a lot BUT GAINED MUCH.  Steve always amazed me at always being able to work around problems to achieve his goals.  Steve HUMBLED his father in so many ways.  I do not want this to be about us.  It should be about the children.  Even one voice “crying in the wilderness” can make a difference.  This is so insignificant in comparison to how he lived his life.  God’s given us back some of what He took away with Jenifer.  In the process it has made me a better parent and truly appreciate the legacy of my son.  This is the time and the place to channel our love to such a beautiful child.  Somewhere in the heavens above there stands a young man with a smile on his face saying, “Dad, congratulations! You finally get it. “‘

Yes, I’m crying again.  God is continuing to use Steve’s love for Africa, his legacy, to change lives and make a difference in the world, in David’s life and in the lives of people who hear this story.  I’m so grateful to be able to share it here.  Both David and his wife, and Jenifer, an orphan, have experienced tremendous loss.  They have been broken.  And yet through their loss and brokenness, God has brought them together.  I’m thrilled that today Jenifer has a sponsor family.  She isn’t alone anymore.  She has David and his wife praying for her and writing to her and loving her.  What a tapestry God weaves!  Someday I will love to see Jenifer, and Steve, and his parents all worshipping together at the feet of our truly awesome Lord.

This morning at Southside Church we saw over one hundred kids get sponsored.  The Daraja Children’s Choir led worship, and I mean WORSHIP, not just performance.  We got to experience a slice of heaven, joining with these kids to glorify our Father.  It was beautiful.  It was powerful.  And then somehow Alex and I propelled our bodies onto the stage and the Holy Spirit took over and made the words come out of our mouths.  He gave us a glorious reprieve from nervousness and allowed us to have fun sharing how our sponsor kids have touched our lives.  We got to share with our church family about the other family that God has placed in our hearts, the kids of Adacar.  While speaking about the community to community model of Children’s HopeChest and the power of the local church, I felt so grateful for MY church, that they want to experience this together, to extend ourselves to Uganda and partner with Adacar.  The Daraja kids sang, “Church arise, come alive.”  Today, Southside did just that for the kids in Africa.  I love my church.  I am so proud of my church.  Daraja sang a song that reduced me to a puddle, “I am not forgotten; God knows my name.”  Yes!  That’s the power of sponsorship, of building a relationship with a child halfway around the world.  To let that child know, “God knows your name.  You are not forgotten.  I know your name, and God has placed you on my heart and in my family.”  It’s happened for us with Bosco and George.  Kathleen has Harriet.  Then there’s Meribu and Florence and Mary and Simon Peter and on and on and on, kids who are not forgotten.  God knows their names, every name, and He can use US, the local church, as His provision for them.  “Arise, let the church arise!”  And now that we’re awake, let’s never go back to sleep.

I’ve been avoiding my blog.  Well, actually, not avoiding it.  Every day since I got back from Uganda, I’ve logged on, stared at my blog, and logged off.  I think I had to cycle through a bunch of stuff before I was ready to write again.  I’m not sure that I’m ready to write even still.  For the first week after our return, I felt pissy and annoyed.  So weird, because I thought somehow that I’d return being uber-spiritual or something.  Yep, not so much.  I felt like my work in Uganda wasn’t finished and yet somehow I was back and supposed to just pick up my life here.  It felt like nothing here mattered.  I was, well, depressed.  Instead of digging into the Bible and drawing closer to God, I sat on the couch watching TV and eating M&Ms right out of the one-pound bag.  (Not that there’s anything wrong with that….)

Then last week, something shifted inside of me.  My sense of purpose returned.  I am here to advocate for these kids, to be their voice.  I don’t get to love them with my hugs right now, but I do get to love them by telling their stories, sharing their pictures.  I love them by letting God use me to find them sponsor families.  Right now, it’s enough.  It’s what it needs to be. 

So, I started out as woo-hoo girl, an extremely excited warrior ready to beat back the forces of darkness and beat down poverty with my enthusiasm.  Then I saw said poverty and lost my woo and hoo for awhile.  Warrior Girl had to freak out and numb out and figure out.  Now, my woo-hoo is bigger than ever, my convictions stronger than ever before.  Armed with stories that I’ve seen with my own eyes and smelled with my own nose and felt with my own fingers and toes, I am reentering the battle fully submitted to the only Warrior powerful enough to love these kids unconditionally, save these kids from destruction, and call each one tenderly by name.  My God, the Rock of my salvation.  Where I am weak and self-serving, He is strong and boundless in His love.  He does not take M&M breaks (Not that there’s anything wrong with that….).

Not hurting my joy-mood in the least:  Joseph just Facebooked me this about Bosco: “I found Bosco playing soccer and running around with other boys, I mean big boys!”  Um, how much does our God love?  Bosco, who wasn’t going to live.  Bosco, who wasn’t going to keep his leg.  Bosco, who’s prognosis was doubtful.  Bosco, an orphan in a picture-the-most-remote-place-you-can-and-go-further village in Africa with gangrene taking over half his leg a few short months ago is PLAYING SOCCER!!!  My God can do ANYTHING.