Maybe Justin SHOULD guest-blog for me...

Perfection. 

The word looks so... perfect.

Perfectionism.
Ewwww....

Or perhaps you're one who considers perfectionism your beneficial fault. Like busyness.

(That may be another post.)

"It's not that bad," you say, "who doesn't want perfection?"

It may sound good at first, but…

PERFECTIONISM IS SUCKING AWAY YOUR SOUL.

(Fish think bait looks good, too. Who doesn't want free food?)

Perfectionism has its own language, and it has invaded English like cancer.

No, not the astrological kind. 

Perfectionism speaks and thinks in the language of Should.

I Should help others.

You Should work hard.

We Should raise good children.

He Should do the dishes; I've been busy all day.

She Should sing more; she has a great voice.

That never Should have happened to you. 

But how are these bad, you ask? I use them all the time, you say?

Here's the rub: "Should statements" never come alone. 
They always come in two parts, even though the second part is often silent.

I Shouldn't have done that... but I did, Idiot.

I Shouldn't have eaten so much... but I did, Glutton.

I Should be more productive... but I'm not, Lazy.

I Should be loved more... but I'm not, Worthless.

Should makes the world black and white. Should makes the world wrong and right.

(Just as it Should be, Shouldn't it?)  

Should means you never measure up.
(You Shouldn't mess up, Should you?)

Should robs you of joy in your accomplishments.

(You Should be good at that after all, Shouldn't you?)

Should is the way life Should be.

(And you Should live by my Shoulds, too!)

I hope you caught the sarcasm there. [I got it from my mom.]

The point I'm trying to make is that Should places the burden of perfection on very imperfect people, and batters our emotions every time we fail to follow even the smallest Should we've believed. 

Should has been in our vocabulary so long that it has brought some nasty cousins to hide behind:
Ought 
Obligated

Supposed

Have To

Need To

Must

These warty fiends brandish the same silent insults and pillage our hearts just as does their leader Should.

Should is especially lethal when it slams against our feelings: 

(Think about the "silent sentence" that follows each of these) 

I Should parent my children better, but... 
I'm not supposed to feel this way, but... 
I ought to feel less angry, but...

Double Trouble when my Should encounters your feelings:

(What condemnation has your Should hung around someone's neck?)

You Shouldn't feel that way... 
You ought to love me more...
You're supposed to CARE..!

 But hold on, I’m supposed to view the world this way, right? I mean, you basically have to. I can’t avoid using Should and its cousins: you ought to just deal with it and quit painting it in such a negative light. You shouldn’t bash on Should like that. You need to just toughen up your emotions and deal with life.

Uh-oh… can you see how that train of thought reveals how hard it is to change how we speak--how we think--about Should?

Because at the bottom of every perfectionist 
(be they the closet variety or not) is this Should:
I Should think using Should.

This is a tricky one, and I’ll come back to it later.

Ok, Justin. You've shown me this problem. Now you Should do something about it.

Wait! Don't Should on me. I already Want to do something about it.

Here's the first key:

Replace the inaccuracies of Should with something more accurate.

I wish

I would like

I feel

I could

I might

I want

and the big one: 

I choose

He Should do the dishes? No, he could do the dishes. I wish he would do the dishes. I feel cared for when he does the dishes. He chooses to do the dishes.

 Do you see how this empowers us?

Speaking this way grounds us in reality, in the way things actually are instead of the way I think they Should be. Should is at best an expression of discontent with the reality we have been given and at worst reveals a heart that has invested in lies, chasing after a universe that never really was.

Several of these re-phrasings neutralize the dark power of Should, but the last can actually reverse it. I Choose honors the fallible human being with credit for their successes and ownership of their failures.

I feel as though I have spent much space explaining the problem and precious little prescribing a solution, but I believe that once the disease of Should is revealed, few will choose to reject the simple cure.

Now I would like to return and address a Should that might make others difficult to uproot. This is the belief that

“I Should think using Should.”

My first reaction upon discovering this belief in my own heart was
 “Well, I Shouldn’t think that I Should think that using Should is how I Should think.”

(Because I’m obviously a simple kind of person.) 

Ahem. My point is that using a Should-thought to try to uproot the linchpin of Should-thoughts is not productive.

Notice that I didn’t say you Shouldn’t do it: I found a creative, more accurate way to say what I really meant. It’s not productive and it is not effective. You could try that, and you might choose to, but it would make me feel as though you had chosen defeat.

Here’s the first key again:

Seek accurate ways to say what you really mean.

And give yourself a break. Honestly. Not because you Should, but because it is helpful and reasonable. You can choose to let yourself off the hook of responsibility for running the entire universe the way you think it Should be, molding your spouse to be the person you think they Should be, and feeling like a victim or a failure every time life goes off where you think it Shouldn’t.

Humans are fallible.

So here’s the second key:

Choose an accurate view of yourself.

You’re not too big, but you’re not too small, either.

You’re the way God Chose to make you.

You have the skills God Chose to give you.

You are the person God Chose to create.

Believing you Should be or do anything else is buying into a lie about your very identity… and perhaps foisting that lie upon others, too.

(NOTICE: I am not saying that you Should just follow your feelings. That is Disney’s job. Also, that’s just another load of Should)

Perhaps you’re close to buying into the idea that Should is destructive, and you have just one last reservation: We Should do what God says, Shouldn’t we?

Here’s the lowdown on the Most High: He doesn’t share that opinion.

This is the whole Law/Grace dichotomy: under the law, one Should obey simply because they Should; under grace, one Chooses to obey out of love.

One brings death and condemnation; the other brings life and joy.

The whole purpose of the Law was to reveal human inadequacy: we categorically cannot carry the burden of Should.

For those who would like a reference:

First Corinthians 6:12 and 10:23 demolish the argument that those in the Church Should do as Christ says simply "because," replacing it with a striving for physical and spiritual health motivated by love.

BUT WAIT A SECOND!!!

I thought this was a post about perfectionism? Perfectionism is about doing and doing and never being satisfied, not about how I talk!

Ehhh, perhaps. I might give you that one.

But what we do and how we feel about it is rooted in what we believe, right?

I want to take perfectionism out at its roots, and I hope you do, too.

Written by Justin Dersch

Y’know how when you’ve read a word a ‘zillion times and it starts to look funny? Here’s hoping that Should is starting to look bizarre and uncomfortable to you.

Flowers From My Father

Legacy, sung by Nicole Nordeman

I don't mind if you've got something nice to say about me

And I enjoy an accolade like the rest
You could take my picture and hang it in a gallery
Of all who's-who and so-n-so's that used to be the best
At such-n-such... it wouldn't matter much

I won't lie, it feels alright to see your name in lights
We all need an 'Atta boy' or 'Atta girl'
But in the end I'd like to hang my hat on more besides
The temporary trappings of this world

(refrain:) I want to leave a legacy
How will they remember me?
Did I choose to love? Did I point to You enough
To make a mark on things?
I want to leave an offering
A child of mercy and grace who
blessed your name unapologetically
And leave that kind of legacy

I don't have to look too far or too long awhile
To make a lengthly list of all that I enjoy
It's an accumulating trinket and a treasure pile
Where moth and rust, thieves and such will soon enough destroy
(refrain)
Not well traveled, not well read, not well-to-do or well bred
Just want to hear instead, "Well Done" good and faithful one...
(refrain)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I have loved this song since I first heard it. 

It vocalized (much more eloquently written and beautifully sung than I could have) 

the passion I feel about my place in this family, in this spot in history, in this world.

The fact is everyone will leave some legacy.

We each get to determine of what kind.

Legacy is defined by Mirriam-Webster as

1. a gift by will especially of money or other personal property

2. something transmitted by or received from an ancestor or predecessor or from the past 

Do you know anyone that isn't toting through this world "something...received from...the past?" 
We all leave a legacy, just like we each started life with one. 
It's part of the thread of humanness that we all share.


I am who I am today because of all that went on before me.


Some person or event sent a red-haired Irish boy to Canada.
An illegitimate baby, adopted by her grandparents, 
was raised nearby.

They raised a family and lived through many trials, together.

In a different part of Ontario, the nurse and 
the handsome, young man met, 
fell in love, and entered into a marriage rife with in-law pressures, and The War.

Their short marriage didn't take them into old age together, 
but they raised two kids the best they could.





A blind date to a Nurses' Valentine Dance didn't go all that well by some reports, but it nudged two lives from different sides of the literal track on a path that included a walk down an church aisle.

That young couple's moves to Nova Scotia, South Carolina and then Michigan changed the direction and hearts of my parents before I was ever in the picture.

The four siblings ahead of me helped determine the direction of 
the parenting that molded me as a kid.

Before I knew I was a part of the Moorehead Clan, the Moorehead Clan was shaping the legacy I was to receive when I entered this world on March 26, in 19-wouldn't-you-like-to-know.

There are a b'zillion facets of why I am the who I am. 
 Two obvious facets would be Mom and Dad--you know, the two that have truly been there for me since the beginning...so to speak.

According to Mom, she really didn't know what she was doing 
and she's just not sure why the five of us kids "turned out okay."
Dad didn't have anything to say about the matter when I asked him tonight.
Mom usually comes back to the fact that "it's just the grace of God." 
She's right, but it's also "just the grace of God" for Him to be true to His Word 
and bless faithful parents with the fruit they labor toward. 

*I know it doesn't always happen that way. Sometimes, some of us kids is just too stubborn~
Then God gives what we ask for leaving our parents and others who love us to lumber through the pain we've chosen by our actions.* 

Thinking on the Legacy with which I was gifted, 
I made some general observations about my parents' parenting:

They taught each of us that Family Matters.

Do everything you can to attend funerals and weddings.

You don't have to like what is given to you, 
but you can be grateful.

Respect your elders. Be a respectable elder.

A Good Life is still Hard. 
Life is Not Fair.

Work Hard.
"A man on his feet is worth two on his seat."

Work Together.
"Many hands make light work."

You may fight with your sibling, 
but you will always fight for them.

Laughter is necessary for survival. 

Jokes should never leave someone hurt.

Keep your bad habits outside the house.

Be generous with anything you own.
Money is "made round to go 'round."

Guests are just family that live elsewhere, 
so treat them that way.

Before you fall in love,  take a long, hard look at 
your future wife's mother/your future husband's dad. 
Your spouse will one day become that person.

You don't have to remember your child's name 
if you call her, "Babe," or call him, "Son." 

When you leave the nest, you leave the nest.

Don't spend more money than you have.

God is Faithful. Always.

I'm quite certain my three (older) brothers and (older) sister could give you a few more things that we were taught. There were the things that weren't taught...but like it's been said, were "caught." 

How many mornings did I come down the stairs to see Mom's open Bible beside her coffee cup on the dining room table?
How many times did I see Dad take a $20 out of his wallet and press it, with a handshake, into the palm of a man with a young family?
How many times did I hear Dad tease Mom that "She's a great ol' Gal" as he chuckled and poked her ribs and she dodged and rolled her eyes?
How many young mommas learned how to diaper, or soothe, or feed a baby by spending time with Mom?
How many kids have gone coast to coast in the USA because their parents wanted them to see the vastness of this great Land we call ours? and how many of them did it with a camper and station wagon filled with 8 people?
How many crocheted dish rags, and knitted baby sweaters, and mittens, and homemade doll clothes and Christmas pajamas and Matchy-matchy Easter dresses came from my mother's hands? 
(and she wonders how she could have carpal tunnel syndrome symptoms!)

I want to leave a similar Legacy.
I want my kids to be able to look back at my daily life and pick out the thing that helped them become.

Mark and I were talking with Jonathan and Courtney just yesterday and we once again realized,
a parent doesn't necessarily know when you're
Making a Memory
that is going to stick with a child.
The insignificant detail becomes a great moment recalled with fondness, while
the time-consuming, well-planned Event is remembered with a shrug of indifference.

My wedding bouquet represented so many of those moments from
Life with my parents.

In it were a few parts and pieces to remind me of where I was coming from:
the mother of pearl necklace Dad gave Mom for their wedding,
a 1985 penny,
Mom's bridal Bible that she (and my sister) carried in their weddings,
silk tiger lilies and other pieces from the corsage Dad gave me on my first date, with him,
and the ribbons and some dried roses from Mom's bridal bouquet.

Many of the bountiful Flowers I have received from my mother and my father were seeded in my heart and life ~way~ before I knew flowers were there. 

I gather from those garden beds daily, and sometimes I don't even recognize who planted 

the Habits, or the Joys I reap. 

I've been given Flowers from My Father for years before I knew Who sent them.

My thanks is certainly not enough.
But, maybe, their love was.

My Taller Now!

I must confess.

No, not about that...I didn't actually get busted involved in that.

I meant I need to confess the other thing--

the-stretching-the-Truth-in-creative-ways thing.

What do I mean?

Here is a s-t-r-e-t-c-h-i-n-g
that I've pulled since 1990 when 2 year old Jonathan asked for another cookie:

"I'm sorry, honey. There aren't anymore cookies in there for you."

No lie involved. 

Yes, there were cookies in there. No, they were not for him.

Here is my confession: 

I told Maylin that 

she needed to be taller before she could go to school.

Back in August when we all got home from China, and the dust settled and the suitcases found their nitches, and everyone else traipsed off to schools, how could I explain that she didn't get to go?
She's the shortest in the family, and she doesn't attend "real school" yet.
She'll be taller next year when she does attend. 

If I said she needed to be older, how do I explain that she'll start school next year
when she is STILL 6... just like she is now?

How do I explain that birth dates don't always coincide
with school calendars and entrance requirements? So, she needs to be taller.

Seemed reasonable to me. 

Seemed reasonable to her.

AND THEN...
about 2 months ago, Maylin  began comparing herself with the height of others.
She loved to see that the top of her head reached just under Matt's chin.
She giggled to see where she fell on Beth's frame.
She cackled to be atop Austin and view the world seated on his shoulders.

And then she compared herself with her friend from church, we'll call S.
They had been together on the weekend, and Maylin had obviously done her comparing.

I will forever remember the moment of recognition
as it crossed her face after dinner later that week.
"My taller," head bobbed in the affirmative. "My go school. S. go school."
The light dawned in her eyes that maybe she'd been had,
 and Maylin furrowed her brow slightly and met my eyes.
"S. go school," she accused. "I taller S."

The Moment of true Truth,
my reckoning, 
had arrived.

With Maylin's expanded English vocabulary, I was free to explain why her friend
could go to school, while she had to wait a while.

"Yes," I sympathized. "S. is taller. But when school starts, the teacher takes your age, divides it by your country of origin, subtracts your level of English proficiency, and then asks your Mom what she thinks." Big, encouraging smile from the Mama, "So next year, you'll be taller to go to school!"

True Story.

I've enjoyed that story in my head for the past several weeks, and I even shared it with S's mom on Facebook, but while I was studying God's Word today with a (delightful, young, Asian) friend we read a verse that brought Maylin's love of comparing herself back to mind.

We were discussing God's instructions through the Apostle Paul to the Church in Ephesus regarding the purpose of the Church. Ephesians 4:11-16 can be roughly paraphrased to say that Jesus gave
varied gifts
to different people
in order for them to do God's work individually,
and to also build up the maturity of other believers in their unique ways.
He desires us to  "come to such unity in our faith and knowledge of God's Son
that we will be mature and full grown in the Lord,
measuring up to the full stature of Christ."
If we believers become spiritual grown ups, we won't be confused by hearing new or unusual teachings and we'll "hold the truth in love, becoming more and more in every way like Christ..."

So the variety pack that we call our local church
has been purposely brought together by God to do His work
...and
help each other grow up
...which
can only happen as we choose unity and maturity with each other
...without
the stuff that confuses new Christ-followers

...which then

gives us the ability to know Truth and Love in the same package.

(For this Mama, that description says FAMILY.)

I truly love the people in my local church. I love to worship with them. I love to pray with them and for them. I love to know when life is smooth for them, and do what I can to be encouraging when life is not smooth. I get jazzed when sharing God's truth with other women. I frequently praise God for specific people in my congregation while we sing together: some of us have enough History together that just being in the same room warms my soul with what God has and is doing in their life. I want to emulate the character of many of them. 

I love being where God has put me--in a church FAMILY.

As much as some of those church people have taught me His Word, have encouraged me to live what I know, have spoken truth into my heart and shepherded my life, my only measuring stick of

 How'm I doin' is

the full stature of Christ. 

 Last year, I might have been up to the belt on Jesus' robe.

This year, maybe I'll hit His armpit (giggle, giggle) 

I do like the thought of my ear right up against His heart, listening.

Hopefully, I'll have the top of my head tucked under His chin in the future.

(This gives me the the visual of a mini-me who is Maylin's height and a Jesus who is Austin's height...and if I compare myself to Him, I don't think I'll grow to be tucked under His chin for a few more decades. Unless, of course, I'm on His lap.)

I want to measure myself against the standard of

"becoming more and more in every way like Christ..."

so I can hold the Truth with a passionate Love.

I look forward to the day I can proudly say,
Look, Jesus! My taller now.

And totally off topic, I think carbohydrates may be my one weakness.

Our 6 year Old Has Been Home 6 Months

It's actually a bit stunning.

She has been our daughter for 6 months.

We met. She cried. She seemed so small and fearful,

but her brave little soul persevered with these two new people 

that called themselves her Baba and her Mama.

The tears welled in me, but I smiled and took her hand.
It was still, and small.
She allowed me to touch her, but pulled her body away in a slight arching if we were too close.
The Baba she was meeting today for the first time had
a compassion in his eyes that I have not seen often in our 26 married years.

Her restless hands kneaded a small, seemingly indestructible, pastry wrapped in clear plastic.

We witnessed her dark eyes cloud as she looked to her travel companion,
the director of her orphanage, for reassurance.

She nodded and smiled as she spoke quietly to Maylin, 

but it did not mask the tears in her own grown up eyes.

Our friend, Peter, is an indispensable part of our story. I cannot imagine
navigating our first hours without his gentle voice and strong arms.
When he wasn't cooing to Maylin about her wonderful new life,
he was hauling all of our packages to free us to hold Maylin.
 He bridged a gap we desperately wanted to cross, but had no language to do so.
Peter began what I call "indoctrination" as soon as he spoke to her:

"Baba"..."Mama"..."Maylin"

"Gia: Family." 

He pointed as he said our name then connected us in 

an invisible a circle with his index finger moving past each of us as he repeated: 

"Gia: family. Maylin's family."

He added "Peter ShuShu," (Uncle Peter) to the line up pointing to himself with a twinkle that I'll not forget.

The child who gives me sleepy morning smiles and sneaks behind my computer chair to wrap her arms around me in a python squeeze doesn't even seem like the same child we met in the Sheraton lobby. Her hair has grown into a darling bob, her face has filled ever-so-slightly, and her smile flashes easily. She chatters almost as much as her older brother Matthew and is as silly as her brother Austin.

People who meet her for the first time often ask how old she is.
I tell them "6 years," nearly always adding, "but she's only been home for 6 months."
They simply don't believe she came home without any English 6 months ago.
It's hard for us to believe sometimes, also.

We've seen a lot of things happen in 6 months:

• 3 of our kids returned to traditional school after schooling at home for several years
• a daughter went to college for the first time and a son graduated from college
• In the last 6 months (plus 10 days, if we're technical,) a son got engaged
• my mother moved from another state to our street
• I've cried out for wisdom and pleaded for "no reason to need patience"
• we added a daughter while dear friends lost one
• Maylin practiced faithfully and performed spectacularly in her first Christmas musical
• I've made sweet new friendships with women who love Jesus, their husbands and their children
• Maylin wrote her first English word: Mom. And her own name
• Maylin learned too many English words to count, including some we wish she hadn't
• and Flowers From My Father in sweet, unexpected places 

In the last 6 months, Maylin has blossomed into
a sweet, precocious, somewhat bossy, gorgeous, chatty gal
who tells me every morning as we slide a comb through her silky mane,
 "Me long hair now. Boy no long hair."

While on our school-drop-off travels one morning last week, 

we were discussing her need to pack a lunch for the day's events. 

She said she was going to put a "bananoe"and "some chips" in her box. 

"And wun-dut."

Me: "Wun-dut?"

"No, wun-dut," she spoke clearly, if a little exasperated. 
"Wun-Dut."

Me, guessing: "a sandwich?"

Maylin, enunciating clearly: "WUN-DUT"

I used some of my paltry Chinese to let her know I was still confused:

"Bu mingbai. I don't understand. Show me at home" 

Shaking her head, she gave me one last chance: "Mama. Cut. Wun-dut."

The light dawned on the ridiculously thick-headed mother: "OH! you mean oranges!"

Still shaking her head, but snickering in complete disbelief, 

Maylin said, "Mommy no know wun-duts!"

Silly me. I don't know the name of the round citrus things in our fruit bowl.

 

Today was the first time she volunteered specific information about her life in her "first home," as we call it. She put on the shorts that came with her when we met in Hohhot, Inner Mongolia. Darling denim short shorts with very Chinese decoration on the rear pockets. "Dodo have same."
Did other kids have the same shorts as these?
 "No. Just me an' Dodo. Same."

Maylin knows it took 5 airplane rides to get to her family. "My home far-far," she says with a little bit of cockiness because she travels like no one else.
I remind her, "This is home. Your first home was far-far, but now you're home always-always with your family."
She scrunched her brows ever-so-slightly as she hugged her knees to her chest
and stated, "This home good. My like it."

Yup, Baby Girl. This Home Good. My like it, too.

Redeeming Not-Perfect

There is so  much more to say on the subject every time I blog.

It doesn't matter what the subject is,

I always feel like I want to put more meat on each idea and serve it up better.

In my last post I used the phrase "Maybe I don't want [a world that is] perfect."

Doesn't that create a whole bunch of weird in your head? 

It does mine.

Looking at my world through God's eyes, maybe I do want perfect.

I want Perfect, but have lived with so much 

Not Perfect 

that I forget Perfect is possible.
I want "my perfect" on my terms.

I know He created Eden and He will recreate Perfection again in the future.

We all ache for "Eden" in some way, I believe 

-even before we know what the ache is.

I know it's my sin that separates me from His Perfection 

and that every single particle on earth has been affected 

by our rejection of God's design.

We're messed up, and we can't fix it.

The unfathomable beauty of the situation 

is that He can fix it.

He takes Not Perfect, and makes it into something else.

We describe His fixing work in a word I love:

Redemption

God, with His Amazing Grace, (ah, another word that wraps me with His love!)

takes what is broken and makes it not only whole, but perfect.

He buys back the things we've done and had done to us, 

creating the new thing that is Redeemed.

In my own life, the grief of losing a daughter 

has opened my heart to birth parents in a way 

I don't think I would have without the loss: redemption.

 The difficult times when I couldn't deal with the unbelievable pressure 

of raising three children (way back then...!) gives me sympathy for 

the young momma and her rough day: redemption.

A mother who knows she can't raise another child in her already difficult life 

gave that child a family and "a goodly heritage:" redemption.

Any grief, any happiness, any pain, any hard thing

 can be given into His hands, and He does His miracle: redemption.

So, when I look at our world that is truly messed up 

and children who ache for 

What Should Be, not What Is, 

I have hope.

Sometimes, I ache and am a little confused how I can best impact 

One More.

I want to experience the thing God does when He fixes our messes.

I want to be a part of His plan to take the broken and offer them 

His Love and 

Grace and 

Life.

And The Million Dollar Question still stands,

"What else does He want me to do?"

The Million Dollar Question

Dear Ones, I don't do guilt well. 

I truly try to avoid creating it as I blog:

you don't need my good days making your day seem bad, 

and I don't need my bad days making you all smug. 

I make a smashing attempt at keeping guilt out of my wifing.

I am becoming more sensitive about not using guilt in my parenting.

Some of you may disagree, but I don't think I use guilt in my friending, either. 

.at least, not often. at least, not intentionally.

So I guess this preface is just to say, work with me on this one.

Creating action based in guilt, especially stemming from someone else's passion,
 is NOT my agenda.

 And this post may create more Angst than Answers, but it's where I am.

I'm still struggling to find my place regarding this "Issue:"

Why does our world, our country, 

still have children without forever parents?

...and what can I do?

I recognize there are other truly devastating social issues 
that abound in our society,

but, you understand, that this one 

has my heart.

And I don't know what to do.

I can't fix it.

I sit at my almost new Mac near a pantry full of food,

with a bag of clothes nearby that my children are discarding. 

Each child asleep under this roof has more toothbrushes in their 

bathroom drawer than their dental check up would have you believe.

We drive to Grandma's (a mere two doors away) if it's raining,

in the van we can keep filled with gas easier than we can 

keep clean--often because we left our excess behind us.

This post isn't about our wastefulness, or our consumerism. It isn't about whether we love Jesus enough to use fewer squares of toilet paper with each flush so we can send $10 more each year to an under privileged country to put a band-aid on human suffering.

(That's another post...wait, that's someone's whole book...)

I recently read a blogger who stated that in a perfect world, 

                                                  all children would stay with their birth parents. 

That sat very hard on me. for a long time.

I still flinch as I type it.

No, in a perfect world, I'd still have my Beth. Right? 

In a perfect world, Ben and Matthew are still Derschs and Maylin comes home.

In a perfect world, maybe she was not discarded for her imperfection,

  but still, somehow, she's ours.

She is OURS, she is US, so how could there be a different plan and it be perfect?

And in a perfect world, our daughter, Ashley, arrived right on time with a completely whole body

...which means Anne was never born.

Maybe I don't want perfect.

But the blogger was right: God's intention wasn't for children to
grow up without direction, love, and care
from the persons who birthed them.

The sin issues of my world have created a void in our families 

as disease and 

self-centeredness and

a multitude of other issues that are sometimes out of one's control

shift the value of family far off course.

We're broken.
We didn't start here.
And I know I cannot fix it.

It takes very little time to Google search
orphan care
children's homes
parentless children
orphanages

Try an image search of the same topics,
and see faces instead of numbers.

I can't make it go away.

Taking another Dear One into our arms leaves at least 

147 million

without.

And while I repeat, I don't know the right thing to do,

I'm certain that doing is the right thing.

The book of James lets me know that my Faith will naturally put shoes on, and go do. 

When I look at my options, I don't want the financial resources
entrusted to our family to feed a child so he or she can be healthy
yet leave him or her still unreached with God's Truth.
I am interested in helping provide physical needs like health care,
and clean water, and school supplies to orphans, but the thought
 of only delaying their Christless death horrifies me.

Humanitarian efforts are, ironically, Human.

I want to join a God Thing.

Hmmm...actually, I want to BE a God Thing.

In being good stewards of God's earthly "treasure," I am seeking ways to impact need
while giving opportunity for planting the seed of the Good News
that Christ died to bring us life.
I  am seeking ways I can impact need while being
the Messenger of Hope with my time and God's love.

I am certain that God doesn't look at the Children of His World and say, "Uhhhm , that one doesn't really need a parent. I think I'll leave that one to fend for himself."
 He does, apparently, allow us that grim possibility. Which child should we leave
without care.
without direction.
without correction.
without hope.
without parents.
without Him.

The options are endless in how we can affect our country's orphans foster children.

The possibilities in helping to bring a kid into her forever family gives me a thrill,

but it isn't the only way I might be called to nurture her, protect her, love her.

The need is staggering when you look at the numbers.

The need is heart-breaking when you look at the faces.

Domestically and internationally (that's "here" and "there" for those of you who hate big words)

I can choose to impact ONE. Just one more.

"If we don't take him, Mom, how will he learn about Jesus?"
Jonathan, in answer to my question whether he thought 
this baby we were being asked to adopt was his brother,  October 2000

"Old parents are better than no parents."
A frequent saying on adoption groups electronic boards.

"You can't bring them all home with you."
Who hasn't heard that one before leaving on a m*sson trip?

“I am only one, but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; and because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do something that I can do.”

         Helen Keller

My question for me (directed at God) is 

"What else does He want me to do?"

A quick disclaimer: This post is in no way preparing you 

for the announcement that we're bringing home another child. I don't see that in our future. 

Believe it or not, I don't even consider this post as an ad specifically for adoption.

I just want to impact one more. 

I'd love for you to drop a line with what He is showing you regarding where You get to join Him in the work He is doing. I'd love a quick word in the comment box to stretch us all into thinking 

outside the box and into His glory...

and a prayer for me as I continue to be open to where and when He says, 

"Jump in, Girl. You won't be perfect, but I will."

Finishing a post about a topic dear to my heart may be my one weakness.