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.

Here is part of my meeting with Harriet.  When Alex saw my reaction to her name, he started filming the crazy muzungu crying and hugging the bewildered African girl.  One of the biggest lessons that God laid on my heart while I was over there is how much He loves each one of us.  There is no end to the extent of His love.  He holds us in His hands.  Each of these precious orphans is His special child. 

On the bus on the way to Adacar the morning that we met Harriet, God led me to Acts 4.  I shared with some of the team on the bus the following verse: “They did what Your power and will had decided beforehand should happen” (Acts 4:28), saying that God had already decided beforehand what would happen in Adacar that day.  It wasn’t up to us what would happen.  God had already decided, and we just needed to be ready and willing to be His hands and feet.  I had no idea that God had decided to lead us right to Harriet’s home!