Happy iFast58 Wednesday!  If you’re new to caring about orphans, like I was a few short months ago, visit www.ifast58.org and pray for this week’s batch of prayer requests from organizations fighting for orphans.  It’s a great way to grow.  When God broke my heart a few months ago, I didn’t know where to point my newfound caring-osity, but through iFast58, I’ve discovered other people and organizations with whom I can join and make an actual difference in the lives of the innocent victims of this world.

Okay, so one of the organizations that I’ve learned a bit about is Abba Fund.  Today, this fabulous org is on my heart.  When Alex and I felt the call to adopt (the emotional equivalent of being slammed into by an 18-wheeler), we were able to start right away.  God blessed us with the ability to start writing checks.  So we did.  A check here, a check there.  Someone needs our credit card.  Four or five someones need a stack of money orders.  Adoption isn’t cheap.  It makes me chuckle a bit at the people who made comments during our jag with in vitro, “In vitro’s expensive.  Why don’t you just adopt?”  Just adopt, eh?  There’s nothing just about it.

We “just” wrote another couple of big checks this week, and today, when Abba Fund popped up in the iFast58 prayer list, I had to petition God, to shout for those whose wallets are keeping them from their children.  Abba Fund provides help for those called to adoption who need financial assistance.  Imagine if you felt God calling you to your child but lacked the means to bring him or her home.  Adoption is an exhausting world filled with the unknown…and that’s without the unknown of where the next payment is going to come from. 

If you don’t feel God calling you to adopt, that’s okay.  He doesn’t call everyone.  But he does call us all to care for orphans.  Maybe that means that you help make someone else’s adoption possible by giving a donation to Abba Fund.  There is enough money in the world to place every adoptable orphan in a home.  It doesn’t have to be your home, but maybe you can help fill someone else’s.  Visit www.AbbaFund.org.

Alex and I have been middle school small group leaders for the last two and a half years.  I lead the girls, and Alex gets pummeled by the boys each week.  In sixth grade, these girls taught me how to text, how to play Guitar Hero, we went shopping, and we road tripped to Tennessee to go spelunking (What were their parents thinking?!?).  In seventh grade, seeing them was a highlight of my week, I started having them over for dinner on Wednesday nights, I judged a sychronized swimming contest at the aquatic center, and we screamed worship songs together in the church sanctuary.  Now they’re in eighth grade, most of them are taller than I am, we sold concessions to raise money for Children’s HopeChest, and I consider them part of my family.  I love watching these girls grow up, listening to them wrestle with decisions, rejoicing in their triumphs, and challenging their thinking.  I’m not one of them, I’m not one of their parents, but in some way they feel like mine.  My girls.

And Alex has had his own incredible experience with his boys that I can’t begin to describe, because to me, it sounds like a lot of wrestling and paintballing, but to him, it’s connecting and growing.  I love watching my husband with his boys.  His boys.

So then one day about a month ago, I see a boy’s face on my computer screen.  He’s about twelve.  He could be one of our middle schoolers.  He could sing “Inside Out” at the top of his lungs at Wired on Wednesday nights.  He could tackle Alex in the church lobby and rock out to “Livin’ on a Prayer” on Guitar Hero.  Except that he can’t.  He lives in Uganda and has a cut on his leg that’s gotten infected and now threatens his life.  I see his face, and then my eyes slide to his leg, and all I can think is “Why?”  Why is that his life and this is our life?

When I think about the problem – the atrocity – of extreme poverty, it feels unsolvable.  Too big, too late, too much, too painful, too bad.  What I do doesn’t matter, right?  Mmm.

It sure matters to Bosco.  What I can do matters to this boy who doesn’t live here.  He lives there, and he needs ME.  And he needs me NOW.  My stopping to mull it over, back burner it, compare it to the hundred other opportunities to give would sentence him to death.  He could not survive my putting him on hold.

Bosco desperately needed money to have his leg amputated to save his life.  We got involved, and throughout our iFast58 Wednesday, we watched as God brought in the amount needed, with enough extra to feed his family and help with his recovery.  An iFast58 miracle.  What an incredible day to watch God move through people to save this one special boy.  About a week later, we found out that he’s in the hospital on antibiotics and the doctors think that they may be able to save his leg.  Our God is so good. 

I don’t know why, but I love this boy.  And today my friends found his sponsorship packet and let me have him.  Alex and I get to sponsor this boy.  I wish that he could sit on a beanbag chair in Alex’s small group room and talk about God’s love, but now Alex can email him all about it.  I wish that I could cook him macaroni and cheese on Wednesday nights, but now I know that our monthly sponsorship is getting him the food he needs.  I wish that Alex could teach him Guitar Hero, but now an educator can teach him to read.  I wish that I could hug him right now, but now I can hug him this spring when we visit Uganda.

Hey, Bosco.  Welcome to the family.  It’s big.  We’ve got a mommy, a daddy, a toddler, a baby somewhere in Ethiopia, a Yorkie, and about thirty eighth graders who want to be your friends.

I’m just going to say it. I’ve been fasting from toenail polish since the middle of the summer. I know, so weird. It’s toenail polish! Here’s the deal. At first it wasn’t even a conscious thought. I just hesitated every time I went to paint my toenails. And then my hesitation became clear to me. My naked toes bug me. They really do. I read an article in the Style section of the paper this summer where some fashionista said that unpainted toes was her pet peeve, her big fashion no-no. I felt judged and like I should slap some paint on my digits! Every day I look down and think, “Argh, something’s missing. I’m not finished.” And that’s the problem. Why do I need to look perfect? It’s impossible. Nobody can look perfect. Why do I care? I catch myself wondering if people are looking at my toes. It’s pathetic.

So, hopefully, you get that it’s not really about my toenails. It’s about my heart. I need the constant call to humility. I need to look down at my toes and realign my values. Many years ago a pastor at my old church talked about shaving off his beard when he made a recommitment to God, a heart-change, a life-change. Thankfully, I don’t have a beard to shave, but I do need a physical reminder that God has completely changed what I’m living for, given me a new purpose and opened my tightly squeezed eyes to what’s on His heart. Looking at my unpainted toes throughout the day helps remind me of what’s important and who I serve. I serve the all-powerful, all-knowing Lord of the universe, who knows every hair on every head in the world…not the god of fashion.

Lately my Wednesdays have received a serious overhaul. Every Wednesday at 9:30am I join a group of amazing, sold-out-for-God-and-ending-poverty people for a conference call. We pray for orphans, injustice, and organizations helping orphans and injustice, and we fast together. While we fast, we memorize Isaiah 58, which explains the whole point of fasting in a way that I never really got before. Okay, so instead of just being really cranky and weak all day and secretly going, “What’s the point?”, I’ve been looking FORWARD to Wednesdays each week. Every Tuesday night, I get a little excited to spend an entire day with a physical reminder of what people living in poverty feel every day. I worship more sincerely, pray harder, and FEAST on the Word of God. At the end of the day, I break the fast, and my heart breaks as I think about how the kids for whom I’m praying don’t get to break the fast. They go days between meals, and when they do get something to eat, it’s not the homemade chicken pot pie that I made tonight.

If you’re interested in experiencing fasting in a whole new way, visit www.iFast58.org and join us on Wednesday mornings.

This is from our friends at HopeChest:

As I contemplated the iFast58 request today, my heart was broken. The profile of a young boy named Dima caught my attention. I am not sure why it caught my attention as it has been sitting on a credenza in my office for weeks. But today, I began to think about him – how he is a little younger than my son Luke. I thought of how Luke sometimes needs his mom just to hold him or he will just come snuggle with us – Dima does not have that – he is alone. It is easy to dismiss Dima because we don’t know him – he is on the other side of the planet – out of sight and out of mind.

To read the complete post click the following link:
http://www.brandisthoughts.com/2009/10/pray-for-dima.html