No Ordinary Pencils

It was only a polite passing conversation, but it stuck with me. Before moving from Florida we ran into a graduate from the flight school at Target and got to talking. He was flying for a company that supports the offshore oil and gas industry. Everyday he transported engineers back and forth to oil rigs off the California coast. As we caught up he remarked, "So you guys are still going to do the flying for charity thing? That's great that there are people like you in the world."

This conversation has happened so many times, especially over the last year. Thank God there are people like you and Ben in the world. It pains me every time.

It pains me because the work we do is not more valuable than your work.

"Hey, I'm thankful for offshore pilots!" I responded. "I am so thankful for what you do. How could we fly for charity without you supporting the oil and gas industry? We rely on the products you have a part in bringing to the market."

He nodded, "Yes! You are right. I'm so glad you see it like that. We all need each other. Each of our jobs is important." And they are. They really really are.

No Ordinary Pencils

Many years ago I read Leonard E. Read's famous economic essay I, Pencil. In the essay an ordinary lead pencil begins, "I, Pencil, simple though I appear to be, merit your wonder and awe, a claim I shall attempt to prove."

The pencil goes on to describe the millions of people who played a part in it's creation. Everyone from the Brazilian coffee farmers who produced the coffee drunk by loggers who cut the trees to the legions of people involved in shipping the materials needed for manufacturing and mining for graphite.

Like the pencil, fighting poverty, both physical and spiritual, is much more than those on the front line. It's even more than the organisation's office workers and generous donors. 

If you tell me that you are thankful for people like me I will respond in all honesty that I am thankful for people like you.

Your work is valuable. Do it with confidence and integrity. You are changing the world.

"I, Pencil, seemingly simple though I am, offer the miracle of my creation as testimony that this is a practical faith, as practical as the sun, the rain, a cedar tree, the good earth." - Leonard E. Read 

  

Welcomed Home

We're coming up to 5 months since Isaiah came home and he is such different child now. There were always little glimpses of the real Isaiah peeking out. Looking back now I can see he was grieving, but grief is hard to identify and understand in a two year old.

My social worker told me he would grieve for his foster mom and in theory I know this would happen. I imagined Isaiah would be shy and insecure at first. I remembered my training and had a plan. We would be joined at the hip and I would work hard at attachment. I'd read the books after all. I knew the stages.

I didn't expect the pushing and pulling. The melt down because he wanted a cuddle this instant only to be pushed away with an angry hand when I went to give a hug. Or the morning Isaiah pointed to the picture of his foster mom and I said, "Yes, that's Ms Debi." And he screamed back at me "No! Mommy!" Or the way he grieved for his foster siblings and refused to play with other children. If they approached him he would yell, "No!" and hide behind me.

I didn't expect the separation anxiety. I couldn't even go to the bathroom without Isaiah desending into a full blown panic attack. Or the nightmares when he would start screaming and hitting something imaginary. Refusing to be comforted when we came to him.

By the end of the most days I didnt want to see Isaiah anymore and I didnt like myself. I felt like a failure. Afraid to say anything because prior to Isaiah being placed with us we had worked hard to convince social workers that we would be great parents. Sure they told us they were there to support, but I lived in fear that they might think they had made a wrong decision and take him away.

It wasn't all bad though. The real Isaiah was always there, just under the surface. And at many points throuout the day he would be his silly happy self. And more than anything I loved him despite the difficulties. I just didn't understand that the moodiness was grief.

I write this because today Isaiah is a totally different child. He is confident and open. He is happy and inquisitive. He charms everyone he meets and although we still have temper tantrums they seem to be the normal two year old kind! Isaiah is a delight to be with and I miss him when we're apart. I can't get enough of him and love when he scoots up into my lap for a cuddle.

From the moment I saw Isaiah's picture I knew he was my son and desperately wanted him. I have loved him from that very moment and feel priviledged to be his mommy. I see plainly that yes, adoption is wonderful. We have a son and Isaiah has parents. But adoption is born from loss and grief is a fact of life.

Thank God that he is in the business of making beauty from ashes. That He knows the condition of our hearts and loves perfectly. That He sets the lonely in families and tells the most amazing stories with our lives. I feel privileged to be Isaiah's mommy, but even more so to be God's child. Adopted into His family. Welcomed home and my grieving and broken heart made whole.

A New Adventure

A couple weeks ago my husband received an email that will change my life. We've been invited to join a charitable organization called Helimission in Papua, Indonesia. My husband Ben is a helicopter pilot and mechanic and will use these skills to support the tribal people living around our soon to be home town of Wamena. Air support is especially crucial when you need a doctor and there are no roads to get you to the hospital.

I am excited about this new adventure. Although the timing of the email was surprising, it wasn't unexpected. We've been working towards this goal for the last eight years. We just thought it would be a couple more years until we actually got to go.

The really crazy thing is that this is the second email to drastically change my life in less than six months. At the end of last September we were contacted about at little boy named Isaiah and adopted him a little over a week ago on Valentine's Day (so sweet, I know!). Isaiah is two years old and an absolute delight. He can definately throw a temper trantrum with the best of them, but for the most part he is a very happy child. We feel so blessed to be his parents!

And here we are. Just starting to learn to be a family and now preparing to sell everything and move across the globe. Intimidating? Yes, but I'm up for it!

The first step of this move is to attend a semester of bible college in NY. I've lived in Florida the last eight years so hoping the fall and winter up north are kind to me. Next, we go for language school in Indoneia 8 months or so. Once we have a reasonable grasp of the language we'll move to Wamena and start a three year term.

From now until August we'll get the word out about our move and raise financial support. Yep, this gig is totally voluntary! But we know it'll work out. I simply don't have time to write about all the amazing ways God has confirmed this path to us.

I invite you to join me on this journey. I have no idea what it will look like, but jump in. We've got plenty of room and always love company.