Dear Bully

Dear Bully,

I know that you didn't intend the harm that you did today at recess. I am sure that it was derived out of ignorance and your inability to yet put yourself in someone else's shoes. If you knew how much my child had already endured in their short time on earth, I know that you would not have said the things you said. Surely, you fail to realize that I held this child, hugging me tightly until they were so tired of crying that they were exhausted and needed sleep more than their mama's hugs. See, my children's story is hard. Real. Hard. More difficult than most issues a lot of people face in their entire lives. My children live their story every day. Staring into faces that do not reflect their own. Having a snapshot of our family that only entices more questions. I know you don't understand that it must be hard; to you it is only different. But different is SO. Very. Good. 

My daughter can make someone laugh to the point of choking; her spirit of fun lights every room she enters. My son. Wow. Talk about the life of the party. He is the most energizing hours I've ever spent. You only see them in a school setting and you miss out on all the beautiful that they bring to my life. 

Which is why tonight was so difficult. Gut-wrenching as I watched my child recount their day to me and then you came up. You, as someone we've never had in our home, never had the opportunity to know. You were a very big topic in our house tonight. And for the first several hours after: I wanted to punch you in the mouth. I know that I am an adult and you, but a child, but the mama bear in me came out. 

But then I started praying for you. Most fervently praying for you and your home life. I pray that you are as cherished and adored as the child that I comforted tonight. Sobbing, through their tears, they could not have told you how much they love to make people laugh, the hurt that they have undertaken in their lifetime or the pain that learning everything new in a new world and a new language might effect someone. You weren't there to see the pain and agony you caused by your lack of understanding and grace. 

I pray that your parents spent their blood, sweat, money and tears to bring you into this world only to tell you each and every day that you are one of the most amazing gifts that the world has ever been received. Because you see, adopted or not, our child, the one you reduced to tears tonight, the adopted daddy and I; we fought for these kids. Traveled miles and spent money that we didn't have for these kids and for you to diminish that in anyway; well tonight, I'm chalking it up to your age and your ignorance. And I'm praying that your parents fought that hard for you. So that one day you will know what a gift to this world that you really are and you will stop using words and actions to hurt others; ALL who are considered gifts to those who love them.

Love, 

A Very Heartbroken Mama 

Dear Trevor Knight

Trevor,

We don't know each other. We have little in common but for our Oklahoma addresses. You would know nothing about me and truthfully, though I'm a graduate of The University of Oklahoma and an avid football fan, until last night, I knew very little about you. I am the mother of a 5 year old son. He has been acclimated to football since his adoption four years ago. Living in the Bible belt, it was expected that we redefine their definition of "American football", as 'football' in Ethiopia is the American equivalent to soccer.  It didn't take long to make him a believer. My husband has worn black and gold as a Saints fanatic since childhood and I ate oysters at Acme once and fell in love with a city that never gives up. 

So between OU Saturdays and Saints Sundays, our kids have become overrun with football. While he still loves soccer, the five year old has been asking for the last two years to play on a team. The fan in me is ready to sign him up, but the Mom in me has countless reasons to say "not yet".  Safety concerns, his age and the aggressiveness of the overall sport will make me keep searching for flag football teams for several more years to come. 

But there is another aspect of the game with which I struggle. As with most high profile positions and situations in life, the bad seem to dominate the headlines and unfortunately are most of what my kids see. Players and actors making news primarily for their wrong choices and not the right ones. Last night Allstate honored players at half time for their activism off the football field and last night you were rewarded for all your hard work on the field. 

What struck me when it was all over and the mics were crammed in your face was not your stats, it was your humility, your grace. It was absolutely refreshing to watch. Completely reminded me of a mutual hero, Drew Brees. It made me want to hug your mama. 

And while my five year old tuckered out before halftime, you can be sure next season when Sooner Nation dones your jersey because of your on field actions, there's a 5yr old in OKC who will done one because of your off field moves. 

Hugs, 

A Future Football Mama 

This Mama's Boy

I wonder if all parents have ridiculous expectations of their children.

I know I did. 

Ok. 

Most days, I still do. 

Adopting The Angel and The Dinosaur was The Hero & I's first foray into the world of parenting.

I had amazing hopes and dreams.

Crayons, giggles, painting toe nails, family vacations, attachment with cuddles and perfect family pictures.

When we discovered from our referral that we would have not one child but two, I was elated. 

I secretly hoped our little boy would be a mama's boy.

I was devastated to learn that our son was anything but. 

Daddy was needed for everything. 

Sports, cutting his steak, tying his shoes, watching him do a number of jumps off our furniture. 

He only asked for one person.
 

Daddy.
 

It was like a cuss word to me in our house. 

Almost four years later, The Dinosaur is still Daddy obsessed.
 

Daddy is still requested for almost everything.
 

Except in the still of the morning when no one else is awake but he and I. 

When he grabs a blanket and asks to be cuddled just a little longer. 

When tired still grips him and he takes me by the hand to help him get dressed. 

Or when he wants to be swaddled after a bath and asks if I'll sit next to him.

Nights when he can't fall asleep and he asks for me to hold his hand until he closes his eyes.

These are the moments I treasure the most.
 

And although sometimes it does hurt that in public he defers to Daddy always,

I'll keep his little secret.
 

I heard the amazing Kristen Howerton lead a small breakout session at Idea Camp back in September and she discussed how attachment for adopted children is different that what we normally think it should look like for biological kids.
That attachment isn't always hugs and cuddles.

The relief I felt in that moment was three and a half years of guilt flowing out of me.
I fought back tears as she described the expectations we have for our adoptive children.
And WE want it to look/feel/be a certain way.
 

He and I's relationship is supposed to look different. 

Because it is different. 

I am still his mama. 

And he is still my son.

And THAT makes him this mama's boy.
 

What Makes It Great

It's no big secret. Adoption is hard. Damn hard some days. Some weeks even. 

Hard is definitely a four letter word to describe it. 

But there are moments in this parenthood that are, that I wouldn't take back for all the hard that has been produced between now and back then. 

Like, for the last two days at pickup, one of my babies who is no stranger to the hard and how to make it hard, screams my name and throws themselves into my arms. 

And last night a bed time, as he curled his fingers through mine, he whispers "Mommy, you are my friend." 

Yes, there is hard. And sometimes it is all that I see in a day. But it is the moments that are breathless that make it easier to breathe. 

"Of course it's hard....it's the hard that makes it great." Tom Hanks, A League of Their Own

"Office School" ?

I'm not sure where or who first used the term "home school" with The Angel, but about every six weeks, she asks me if and when she will every be home schooled. I always give her the same answer, "I have no idea" and "I hope never". 

To be frank, homeschooling has always intimated me and one of the things I always beg God not to call me to do. 

But He saw fit to give me a daughter to think that homeschooling is her personal garden of Eden. 

Because of our summer schedule, The Angel has been in church camp, day camps, etc. for the last five weeks. With our family vacation scheduled at the end of July, there was a three week lapse in what we had scheduled for The Angel. The Hero and I talked about what to do while we were at work and the answer seemed to return to her spending her days with us at our offices. 

So I told her we were giving her a reading list and buying a couple of work books to give her a boost before third grade and she'd be spending her days at the office with me, doing some school work and reading. 

I thought she would scream, protest or profess eternal boredom. 

Wrong.

She's upstairs as I type, packing a back pack, sharpening pencils and giving The Dinosaur the 411 as to what home schooling looks like when your mom works a full time job.

Lord, this is only 3 weeks. 

3 weeks. 

Please?!

Camp

For the second year in a row, The Angel has spent a week at church camp.

The last night of camp is family night, where we are invited to come have dinner with the campers.

The Dino has asked EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. 

"Is it time to see her yet?"

I finally got to tell him YES tonight.

While she's had a blast and has exhausted herself with late nights, 

friends and junk food, our pack of four doesn't function with one missing.

Stoked to pick her up tomorrow afternoon.

To Pack or Unpack

I read her blog post this morning like I do most every morning. Today, I read it through tears. A night that ended in prayer and tears and hurt, wondering if I'm doing what He's asked of me carried over through her words on the other side of the world. And I couldn't stop sobbing.

Trips to Africa are easy for me. It's the daily grind on the plains of Oklahoma that wears me down. I can hug and love an orphaned child, but patience with my nine year old's laundry strains a mama's nerves all the tighter. Weary and travel worn after international trips leave me fulfilled and brimming with renewal, but find me at the end of a work week and I'm stressed and ungrateful for most everything.  

As I saw the pictures of one of my favorite places today, more than a twinge of malcontent flushed my brain. 

The longing to pack a bag, hop a plane, to return to my second home grew.
 

"I need to be there."

"I need to go."

"I'm best on African soil."

But as he often does, the whisper came. 

It begins at home.
 

Going for you is easy. 
 

It's the here that is hardest.
 

Learn it here.
 

Live it here.
 

Love me here.
 

Love me now. 

It hit harder than I thought. Truth usually does that. I am always better on the go. Staying proves hard for me. Consistency in living love here is a rocky, previously rutted road. 

So how does one daily live out love from behind a desk?
 

A kitchen counter?
 

Under neath piles of laundry?

The more I prayed, the more convicted I became. The list grew long, but short on execution:

Checking on a friend.
A walk through a garden.

 

Putting down my cell phone and playing another game of hide and seek.

 

Encouraging a co-worker who I know is struggling personally.

Continuing to practice the always tough "I'm sorry. Please forgive me?"

Complimenting the lady who served me lunch.

 

Pull out of the drive thru and pull up to our table for a home cooked meal. And yes, hot dogs and cheetos count as "home cooked" some days.

Turning off the T.V. and tuning into my husband's worries and stressors of the week.

 

 

Slowing our pace to where we not only hear each other but that we SEE one another.

 

Learning less about characters I'll never meet and digging more into the character of my children.

 

Continually, consistently, and sincerely giving thanks. "In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you" 1 Thessalonians 5:18

 

Documenting my #1000 gifts, one day at a time.

Writing our sponsorship children letters.

 

 

Closing the shoe sale window and opening up a list of needs of some of our favorite charities.

Writing a check to some of our favorite missionaries-no matter how small I see it to be.

 

Quit flipping through the latest magazine wanting some thing and flipping to the Psalms for what my soul needs.

While each one is small, no great thing was ever big without starting as lesser. Because to someone else, their perspective of size may be opposite of yours. I think that's why in Matthew He tells us to give someone a glass of water. A bucket is too much and a thimble requires too little of our effort. It's about the receiver and the giver, both receiving rewards from the gift and the gift giving. Pouring enough of ourselves into someone else to fill the need, no matter how small we see the need or our action. 

 

"I ask-ask the God of our Master, Jesus Christ, the God of glory-to make you intelligent and discerning in knowing him personally, your eyes focused and clear, so that you can see exactly what it is he is calling you to do, grasp the immensity of this glorious way of life he has for his followers, oh, the utter extravagance of his work in us who trust him-endless energy, boundless strength." Eph. 1:16-19, MSG 

This walk, the journey of grace and love and leaning on Him requires both the going and the staying, knowing when to pack and what to unpack. Rejoicing that someone's going is encouraging me in the staying and praying for the opportunity to return the favor for someone else. 

Praying for you all today, whether your are packing or unpacking, going or staying and praying that you are filled with endless energy and boundless strength to accept and grow in the place where you are.

 

Happy Father's Day

I'm not sure how other men handle years of infertility, struggling, begging God to have a baby.

I don't know how any other man deals with a crazy wife who dreams of adopting, not knowing where that road might lead.

Maybe there are better stories of heroism and bravery, but I haven't heard them.

I know that you held me when the sobs of despair had overtaken me.

I know that you breathed "yes" to adoption before it was every really an option for us.

I know that you followed Jesus day in and day out on our road to becoming a family.

I know we boarded a plane together as 2 and came back as a pack of 4.

I know that from the moment he met you, you were his "person" and he's been attached to you ever sense. 

I know that she sees strength and power in you and she relies on you for that. 

I know that you are teaching her how to be purely loved so that YOU are the standard she judges all other men by.

I don't know how other men handle tough situations in their lives, but I know how you handle yours.

And I couldn't be more honored to have my life validated by having you in it. 

Happy Father's Day to the most pure hearted, amazing Hero I know. 

Old & New Again Friends

I've been blogging for almost 4 years now. 

The kids have been home for over 3. 

Out of all the people in the adoption community we've "met" online and in person, there are still those couples who we think "would love to meet them. Would love to see our kids play togther.", etc.

One of those families is the Briggs family from Colorado Springs.

Through our adoption journey we learned we had a lot in common.

Early 30s. 

No biological children at the time of our first adoption.

And adopted two children at the same time, of almost exactly similar ages.

Our kids were even born in the same region of Ethiopia and

were together at their foster care in Ethiopia for a time.

So imagine our excitement when Juli emailed me and said they would be driving through Oklahoma on vacation and wanted to know if we could meet up for lunch.

We were thrilled.

The Angel has been asking for a sister for years and having her former buddy back for even a short while did nothing to diminish her desire.

What a beautiful short time with old friends who were made new again today.

You Guys Did It Again

LoPa Art was a project started by three adoption-orphan care-justice crazed women who were looking for a way to serve the least, the last and the lost of Ethiopia. The three of us were broken at different times, but all in the same way-we desired to use our talents to see restoration and grace permeate the people and the hearts of people we had grown to call family.




The basis for our business was simple. Buy fair-trade, handcrafted art work and leather goods, sell them to you beautiful people and fund a non-profit education and feeding center on a trash dump in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. The three of us receive no salary, no percentage of the profits. We wanted transparency to be a clear as our passion.
Three years ago, we had over 100 kids in our program. We partnered with Children's HopeChest to find individual sponsors for our kids so that LoPa could focus more on funding projects to make this community sustainable.




This year we had over 210 kids accepted into our program and LoPa was able to re-focus on not sustaining the kids daily needs, but praying and funding their futures. Together with HopeChest we derived an amazing plan and a really lofty goal: Raise $60,000 to put our older aging-out boys to work in the construction business. We called it the Korah Brick Making projects.
HopeChest did the logistics of a website and we three LoPa girls hit the streets. And the boutiques. And the craft fair venues. And then we hit our knees.




We blogged, facebooked, tweeted, and held shows all over the country. We networked our social circles and brought you all beautiful jewelry and art work from our favorite artists and artisans.




And YOU all responded. By leaps and bounds you all have helped us spread our mission of love and justice for yet another year. We couldn't be more grateful. And today we are humbled and honored to announce that the LoPa Brick Project is 100% fully funded! We are over the moon and over joyed that God has used three women's lives to bring His glory and His justice. We simply cannot thank you enough.




We are in full swing preparing our 2013 calendar and praying over our next project. Please join us in praying His will over our mission and asking how you can further be involved. If you are interested in hosting a home show, please hurry and email us so that we can make arrangements. Our calendar is almost full. You can reach us at lopa3moms at gmail dot com





- Hugs n Love,

Lindsey

All Aboard!

 

 

If you've read here before, you probably know that one of the ministries that I love and adore

is the folks at Children's HopeChest; an internationally focused organization based out of Colorado Springs, Colorado. Their motto is simple: Encourage orphans to thrive in their home culture and know God through a personal relationship with Christ.

 

While HopeChest's model is simple, it is the approach that I adore.

Take an American community; a church, a school, a business, etc.

and partner them with an international community;

a village, a church, a school, etc. who is in need of encouragement and capital.

This partnership provides that the American partner obtain individual sponsors at $34 per month for

the children currently in the international program

to provide basic medical care, school and uniforms.

Individual sponsors are encouraged to send letters to their sponsorship child.

 

But the commitment doesn't end there.

The American partners are encouraged to send a travel group at least once a year to check the progress of the development and assess other needs which may lead to other development projects.

 

For example, this year, LoPa Art stepped up to fund through our art sales, a brick making project for the Hand for the Needy care point in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.

Currently, all of the children at HFN are individually sponsored, but the care center

was is desperate need of income generating ideas for the elder boys aging out of the system.

Thus, the brick making project was born.

(And fully funded by the way. :)

 

 

Currently HopeChest has 150 care points and projects in 8 different countries wold wide.

 

I have advocated for HopeChest to partner with two congregations in our metro area 

and LOVE watching the communities here fall in love with two separate communities in Uganda.  

 

While my family sponsors other children through other organizations over the world, I love through our church that all of our children know each other. Each time a trip from Westmoore Church travels to Ngariam, Uganda, we are updated with pictures and videos of our kids.

Our family's small group love sharing letters from one another's sponsored kids.

Such a beautiful picture of community here in South Oklahoma City.

And in Ngariam, Uganda.

 

So image my giddy delight when HopeChest asked me to accept a volunteer position with them.

To advocate for other churches, schools and businesses to travel with me once a year to the different countries HopeChest serves worldwide.

Uh...YES!!!

I only had one request...that this first trip would be to my favorite place.

You know what it is...

Ethiopia.

 

So that's where we're headed.

July 6-16th, 2013.

There are currently 5-6 new locations that are looking for an American partner.

We will travel to these locations as well as 2 sites that are currently being sponsored so that

you may see the difference between what a partnership and un-partnership can mean.

We will spend time in the capital city of Addis Ababa and also in the rural region of Awassa.

We will also be traveling to the red light district in Addis to minister to the over

40,000 prostitutes and children who live there.

 

If you, your pastor, your best friend, your manager, your church leadership board would

like to know more information about partnership, email me.

I'll send you some information about travel, partnership and Ethiopia in general.

I cannot wait to lead this trip with HopeChest staff and see the way God uses this for His glory.

Now...go pack your bags!

 

One of my favorite people and Ethiopian travelling companions called yesterday.

She was working on a blog post about K, she and I's friendship and the book.

As we talked, she was perusing her pictures from last year's trip to Ethiopia.

 

She asked me if she had sent me all of the photos from her camera.

I couldn't remember if she had or not.

So I told her to email them to me just in case.

 

Enjoy.

 

I did.

 

 

But this one is my absolute favorite!

Probably of all time.

 

I have less than 200 still in my possession.

I am blown away and truly humbled by all of this and I am honored that you all have supported me so much through it all.

I just can't wait to sell the remainder so we can start planning the REAL fun...global, clean WATER solutions!

 

So if you want to order, click on the BUY NOW button and order before Friday, so I can ship it for Christmas.

 

You can now find the book on Amazon and Barnes and Nobles.com.

If you received your book and loved it, please go to these websites and rate the book.

 

Thank you so much.

Thank you.

That's Your Job.

 

 

Almost 250 books have left my hands in the last two weeks.

Another 500 are being distributed by Amazon, BarnesandNobles.com and several private book stores.



I am excited, humbled and amazed that you all have been walking this journey with us.

 

The Hero asked me what I was going to do when this was over.

When all 1000 books are sold and we've chosen a site for the well.

I told him I really wasn't sure.

 

A really great friend is leaving for Ethiopia in the coming months.

She offered to take a copy of the book with her and read it to K.

It sounded great.

K would see the book in record time and would have a copy to keep.

 

I was telling The Hero her offer the other night.

He let me finish.

 

"Linz. Reading your book to K is only one person's job.

Yours."

 

I love it when he's right.

Just the thought of another trip to Ethiopia makes my heart leap.

I don't know dates or times or length.

But the last copy of my book left in my possession is already spoken for.

A Black Friday I Can Be Excited About

 

 

 

I didn't expect to hear from my book printer for the next two weeks.

I just opened my inbox from my printer saying they had finished the first 500 books.

He wanted to know if it was okay to go ahead and ship them to me?

 

Uh....YES!!!!

 

So here you go.

The first peeps to see the cover of the kid's book that took me almost three years to complete.

 



Isn't my illustrator amazing?



I think so too.

 

So here is where I start begging you to buy the book.

I only had 1000 copies printed.

Because selling 1000 copies will pay for a water well to be built in our sponsorship son's honor.

And to be really honest with you, I didn't have enough faith or garage space to house any more books.

The book won't be available on Amazon or another online outlet.

Just here.

And a few in-person places in Oklahoma City.

My sights are really just set on this first printing.

If God has further plans for this simple children's story, then He will handle the details.

You may order at the button on the side of the blog.

If you are local, I will hand deliver your book to you.

Will love and tons of kisses.

Thank you so much for being on this journey with me.

If you've read here longer than two blog posts, you'll know my family's passion and love for Ethiopia and our desire to see the people of the world educated about clean water.

 

Can't buy a book?

No problem! Please help Tweet, Facebook and blog about this opportunity.

 

Thanks Again,

I couldn't do this without you.

And I wouldn't have written this story if it weren't for him.

A Face To Africa

 

I wrote my first children's book three summers ago.

On a legal pad.

While vacationing at my sister's house.

Watching my two kids swim in her crystalline pool.

I was supposed to be working.

All that yellow paper was designed for some thing legal.

But it was destined for some thing lovely.

As the kids swam and splashed with their new aunt,

I swam and splashed through my tears at the edge of the pool.
 

How so much can change in a small span of time.

We hadn't been together four whole months yet.

English was still an accent on their tongues.

Most smells and sights were new and each experience more exotic than the last.
And Africa was still very much in my heart and thoughts.
 

I think I've said before that I believe David when he said

"God sets the lonely in families."

I believe that because I never knew how lonely I was until I got my kids.

As the kids splashed and played,
I wrote.
Wrote the story of the boy who walked every day for water.
A boy who carried the liquid on his back,
while my new kids covered themselves in water I was telling them not to drink.
I wanted a way for kids every where to learn about his story that stole my heart.
A story that would bring him and others clean water.

I found an illustrator that weekend.
It was a pure divine encounter.
He fell in love with the story too.
As he began sketching the outline, we met several times.
He asked me when I envisioned my story set in Africa, did I see a face?
I laughed out loud.
But of course, I did.

This was the first picture I sent to him:

This was one of the first illustrations Jerry sent back:

AHHH!!!
My words didn't seem to do the art justice.
But now at least Africa had a face.


In other news, I just heard from the printer and books will ship November 21!
I'll start taking pre-orders in the next few days.
Scared.
Scared out of my mind.
But the kind of scared you get as you top the incline of a roller coaster. :)
 



Christmas In July

Having kids almost five years apart can be challenging, I'm learning. Remember? Still new to this mom thing. And some times I'm just slow on the uptake. But having kids five years apart AND being of two different genders is, well, like a remake of Cowboys v. Aliens. The Dino's favorite game is "How to Hack Off My Big Sister In The Shortest Amount of Time." He beats his record almost daily now.
The Princess's favorite game is "Let's See How Loud I Can Huff At EVERY. THING. My Brother Says." I stopped counting her decibel levels a year ago.
The Hero and I have been trying really hard to maintain our patience and remind them that continuing to drive their parents crazy will only end up with all of us in the loony bin.  But I hear the loony bin cooks for you three meals a day AND does the laundry. And "NO", I have no googled loony bins in our area. Maybe tomorrow.

So tonight when they had been together less than thirty minutes and their were both ready to play their individual games with one another, I called a time out. I set them both down together and announced that if they really were serious about wanting  a brother and/or a sister to come home and live with us from Ethiopia, then they were going to have to get along. We just couldn't bring another person into our family if they were not going to be nice to the family members we already have because that wouldn't be fair to anyone. I asked them both to pray over dinner and ask God to help them know and love their sibling here and their sibling(s) to come, so that we could be the family God wants us to be.

Guys...I cannot make this stuff up. They both prayed and asked for patience, love and kindness towards one another and that God would prepare their other siblings for them as well. It was all I could do to choke back the tears.

They've been asleep now for almost an hour. I can't be sure because I didn't hear the angels announce it from heaven, but I think the Lord Jesus has come back to earth. Or my children have been inhabited by aliens. All evening they have been amazing to one another. They snuggled on the couch during a movie, they have "pleased" and "thank you'd" each other almost to death and while I was cleaning dishes, I heard The Dino say "NO! I WANT to carry your shoes to your room. Because I love you!"

I write you all tonight to document this event, so that this Mommy may have a reminder in the morning when the squealing over "He-got-more-orange-juice-than-me" starts, I can remember that for an entire evening, for the first time, I remember thinking "there really is Christmas in July."

Going Home

When I was a teenager, preparing to leave my parents home for college,
my dad  had a joke for me.
He use to say "you know Sis. They say you can never go home again."
I'd laugh.
And wonder if he was serious.
As the oldest of three, maybe they were ready for me to leave.
To be gone, to never return.
If I really could never load up my car and spend summers on their couch,
raiding their refrigerator and forgetting that there was life outside
the cocoon they had lovingly created.

 I'm sure they took it hard when I left down that long, winding road for college.
21 miles due north.
Despite the distance, I saw them at least once a week.
And talked to them at least four times.
Sometimes all in one day.
It took a solid 20 minutes from my dorm room parking lot
to their gravel drive way.

The summer between college and law school I moved home.
My dad changed his joke.
"Sis, they say you can't go home again."
"But I have no idea who 'they' are, so feel free to come home whenever you want."

I never did move home after that summer.
I think a part of me regrets it to this day.
I mean, who doesn't love your mom making breakfast and doing your laundry?
(I wonder if she'll move back in. :)

Law school meant studying and studying meant late nights at the library.
I kept an apartment on the west side of campus,
north in the City,
almost 40 miles from my parents' front porch.
Then The Hero appeared and well, I had a new home.
Wherever he laid his head was my address.

But I never forgot Dad's reminder.
That if I ever needed a place to rest, to relax, to be who I am,
that the front door is always open.
It's one of the first things I want my children to know about The Hero and I:
The front door is always open.
You can always go home.


When I left you lovely blog readers last, we had a dilemma in our adoption planning.

One blank to fill, so that there would be less blanks in our family pictures.

I fought it.

Hard.

With prayer and Italian heritage stubbornness,
I knew there was no way God was calling us back home.
The Hero and The Angel were adamant I was wrong.
The Dinosaur was unpersuasive.
Could we return to the land I loved again?
Wouldn't God place us some where else?
Why could this country, these people, that boy, those memories, why couldn't they be still.

Why couldn't they let me be still?
Why was I always called back there?

And then one day, it hit me.

Dad's words from so long ago.

Because this place, that boy, those memories, they were one thing to me:
HOME.

That continent that hangs on my neck,
that stirs in my heart.

That landscape where our ministry, our business, our family rooted and grew.

The treasures we'd already received from being there once before.

(Yes. The Dino is in a dress. The Hero continues to lament my failures

 to parent while he's at the fire station.)

The culture we've come to accept as part of our own.

Those faces LoPa Art fell in love with and advocate for through Children's HopeChest

(You can STILL sponsor a child at Hands For the Needy, but you better hurry only 20 of our 210 kiddos remain.)

That place with the hurt and the anguish.

And then there's that boy.

Would we ever be able to adopt him?

With our without him through adoption, he is our life.

Our family.

Our love.

I could no longer be arrogant that the only other Ethiopian child I could love

would have to be that boy.

So yes, dear reader, our next adoption will lead us here:

to this flag,

to this place



but if nothing else, it will lead our children: HOME.

And home is always a place you can go.

How Do You Choose?

We have an agency.

We are home study ready.

Our finger print application can be sent off ASAP.

Only a few minor tweaks need to be made to our paper work.

And then there is one glaring blank:

Country:______________

For about four weeks now, we've been asked to fill in that blank.

Our family vote has been  bottle necked.

Two votes Ethiopia.

One votes India.

Mommy's vote can tie it up or give direction.

The Angel and The Hero are set that it's Ethiopia.

The Dinosaur just likes screaming "I'm an Indian."

(I have no idea why this is fun. But he loves saying it.)

So at dinner each night as we pray, we've been asking for direction.

We've received nothing but silence.

To be honest, I'm not sure He cares.

Don't get me wrong.

I know He has a plan and that He has chosen a very specific person(s) to join our clan.

But we know what the Word says.

The mandate is out there for us to receive.

And now that our eyes have been opened we know what to do.

But like all things, we have a choice.

Geography is up to us.

He is leading our every step, He's waiting on us to choose to fill in the blank.

It Happened

Everyone said it would happen.

I knew it would eventually.

Even though I fought it.

Pushed it down inside.

Prayed it would last forever.

But it didn't.

I believed I would see it in snipets.

Snapshots over a series of days, strung out to months.

But it happened with one shot.

I stepped back to capture her.

Just like always.

The flash sizzled and I checked the view finder.

And I teared up.

She wasn't there.

The little girl that I once knew.

She had been replaced.

With the most amazing young lady.

It's been three summers now.

I never understood why my mother continues to call me her baby.

34 years after delivering me.

I do now.

And it brings me to tears.

I don't regret the time I didn't have her.

It's five years of her life, I'll never know.

I regret not diligently watching every moment,

to know exactly when she stopped being little.

And started being a lady. 

Seeing...

LoPa started as a dream of three mamas who loved Ethiopia and wanted to provide a way to fund the children we had come to know with food, education and the love of a Heavenly Father.

We started funding the program with just the sales from the art that you all bought and

Hands for the Needy officially opened last September as an Ethiopian non-profit.

We had 50 kids in the program.

50 precious gifts who would no longer be defined by their existence in a trash dump.

The Hero and I travelled last September to finalize the paper work and to help organize

a few things on the ground.

One of the team members who travelled with us was my amazing friend Amy,

whose husband works for Children's HopeChest.

The entire trip we kept praying and hoping that God would allow

LoPa, Hands for the Needy and Children's HopeChest to join forces.

We are thrilled to announce that it is finally happened.

With this partnership, there are currently over 200 kids

enrolled in the Hands for the Needy program.

I never thought that I would see how God was using so many people

that I love so much to continue to do His will.

But here it is:

A chance for you to see.

To write.

To connect your heart to another.

For only $34 a month.

LoPa is going to continue to bring you great product.

Our proceeds are going to continue to fund Hands for the Needy.

But as individual sponsors step up and choose to be a part of this program,

LoPa will be able to fund bigger projects, building projects, trade training projects...

So for the next couple of posts, I'm going to introduce you to some of the kids

we met back in September, who are now available for sponsorship.

Many of you have asked us about the kids in our program

and now you have the opportunity to walk this journey next to them.

First up is Asechalew.

He gets to go first because he is The Hero's favorite.

This is his family.

Asechalew is on the far right.

He is a twin with the precious angel standing next to him.

He and The Hero played thumb wars.

A lot of thumb wars.

Asechalew is 8 years old and is ready to be sponsored.

If you go here. It will take you right to his profile and you can start sponsoring him.

We are so blessed to be able to bring you this opportunity

and can't wait to see who God lays on your heart.