The daily soundtrack to my much-interrupted inner monologue is this praise and worship song, whose words remind that life and death are both in God’s palm.

Blessed Be Your Name
In the land that is plentiful
Where Your streams of abundance flow
Blessed be Your name

Blessed Be Your name
When I'm found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness
Blessed Be Your name

Every blessing You pour out
I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say

Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name

Blessed be Your name
When the sun's shining down on me
When the world's 'all as it should be'
Blessed be Your name

Blessed be Your name
On the road marked with suffering
Though there's pain in the offering
Blessed be Your name

Every blessing You pour out
I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say

Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name

Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name

You give and take away
You give and take away
My heart will choose to say
Lord, blessed be Your name

Paul’s medium for ministry was writing, too.

He wrote letters to the churches and to fellow Christians. And he struggled with making himself understood, hence his going on and on about “And I don’t mean to say that such and so, and this doesn’t mean that when X happens, Y doesn’t apply, and though some may say I mean thus don’t listen to them because I don’t.” And yes, that seems tedious and interrupts the flow of the writing and reduces the quality of the eloquence, but at the end of the day what matters is making the point truly and wholly understood. Because this isn’t an essay contest to win a prize, this is a ministry where souls are at stake.

So Paul and I both struggle with making a point well-understood, as does anyone writing letters or sermons or blogs. I think Paul would have been a blogger had the medium been available.

Here’s the original email:

I don’t really watch the comedian Kathy Griffin, but I must say I am appalled that anyone could be this bold in making such a public statement about Jesus. We are truly living in a modern day Babylon.

At the Emmy awards, Kathy Griffin’s acceptance speech said, “A lot of people come up here and thank Jesus for this award. I want you to know that no one had less to do with this award than Jesus.” She went on to say,”Suck it, Jesus. This is my God now!” referring to the Emmy.

As a Christian, I am offended by her hate speech. What do you think might have happened if she had made the hate speech against Muhammed???? Kathy Griffin has the right as an American to say what she thinks. As a Christian-American, so do I.

Today I will refuse to watch any show that she may be on or purchase tickets to any event at which she would perform. What will you do? If you delete this, nothing bad will happen to you, but if you pass this on, you will truly have stood up for Jesus Christ.

And here’s my response:

This woman doesn’t make me angry. We are not necessarily living in a modern Babylon. This is the normal reaction of the unsaved when confronted with the cross. Jesus is foolishness to the world, remember? He is offensive to the unsaved (1 Pet 2:8). How else do you expect them to respond to him? Kathy Griffin has no relationship with Jesus, so do you think he is offended by her words? Hardly. The unsaved have been thumbing their noses and shaking their fists at God for thousands of years, and will continue to do so until he comes back to end it.

I am not appalled that anyone could be this bold in making such a public statement about her opinion of Jesus, I am more appalled that more Christians are NOT making such bold public statements about THEIR opinion of Jesus. We Christians getting our feathers ruffled because we are “offended” by this is such a pompous, American attitude. Where in the Bible does it say we have the right to not be offended? Rather the opposite, we are guaranteed trouble in this world by living our lives for Christ. It is the American who thinks he has the inalienable right to live life without being offended, that’s what puts the gold trim on the BMWs of so many lawyers.

And really, why is this so offensive? Most folks live their lives that way, she just said it aloud. She’s not even guilty of hypocrisy, because she was honest and her actions are consistent with her words.

I find Griffin’s words challenging. She, a non-Christian, openly acknowledges to her audience that she does not submit to Jesus as God, and tells us exactly what god guides her actions. We too have an audience that is paying attention to our behavior, and our behavior tells them exactly what god guides our actions. Whom would your audience identify as your god? Fame? Money? Stuff? Approval? Affluence? Comfort? Personal happiness? Anytime we ditch the teachings of Jesus and the instruction of the Bible to pursue these, we are showing our audience what god truly directs our steps.

So while non-Christian Kathy Griffin can tell Jesus to suck it as a publicity stunt, those of us who name him as our Savior can tell him to suck it by flouting his teachings for our own pursuits, and that’s something that truly offends him. And our audience takes much more to heart what they see in our lives rather than what they hear from a stranger on TV.

I highly doubt she’d be gratified to know that her words inspired such edifying reflections in this Christian.

Updated to add:

I’ve thought further on the subject and also realized two other things. First, that her remarks were not “hate speech.” (See the wikipedia article on hate speech: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hate_speech)

Second, that boycotting the products of a person you’ve never before heard of has absolutely zero effect on her. How many of us had ever heard of Kathy Griffin before this? Now we all know who she is and that she won an Emmy, so her publicity stunt has worked 100% perfectly.

Updated again:

I did send it, and the only response I got was from an irate person who was sure I’d been writing about her and was mad that I’d sent it to the whole list “to embarrass her.” Guilty conscience much?

However, we’re comforted by the bird populations out here. The kids have picked up on Poppy’s and my interest in them, and they are learning to tip-toe toward the window instead of gallop when one of us sees a bird. We don’t hear them as well from inside the house, but there are plenty of windows so we can generally get a good view without disturbing them. Sometimes I can get decent pictures if they’re near enough to the house, but I may have to invest in some accessory lenses for my camera if I ever want to get really good shots of them.

Between the house and the bank of the pond we frequently get flocks of chubby meadowlarks, and further out we occasionally see migrating flocks of red-winged blackbirds settle on the banks to forage. There are a several pairs of mourning doves that are generally snuggling in a tree or on the power lines, and one beautiful set of inca doves that like to cuddle together on the ground.

The prize for most annoying goes to our pugilistic cardinal. Poppy says he’s been out here for years, with the same daily routine. He spends hours every morning attacking every window in our home. We assume he’s fighting off the cardinal in the reflection, but in the meantime he’s a fairly reliable alarm clock, starting right at 7:00 every morning.

Yesterday’s discovery was the Eastern Phoebe, a bird we’ve observed for weeks with interest but had a bit of trouble identifying. In the mornings, she likes to sit completely still on the edge of our pool and stare into it. She will sit motionless for several minutes, then dart into the pool and snatch up a cricket. She then returns to her previous spot to consume it. The Eastern Phoebe is among a group of birds called flycatchers, who are identified by this behavior.

I am almost disappointed that we finally identified the Eastern Phoebe and determined that the pretty doves on the ground were Inca doves and not juvenile mourning doves. The mystery of their identities was a fascinating study, and it leaves me eager to photograph and ID more local birds.

Each of the links in the above paragraphs goes to a site that gives identification tips for the species, and in some delightful instances, it also provides mp3 files of the various songs and calls of the birds too!

And of course there’s Jay-Jay. So many people saw him as being the window that God opened when he closed the door on Peanut. They hugged me and said how wonderful it was that He was going to comfort us with the adoption of JuneBug’s newborn brother, just at the time when we lost our pregnancy. What a slap in the face to be told by CPS eight weeks later, “Aw gee, we messed up, we never should have called you in the first place, just forget about him and if we need you to adopt him someday, we’ll call.” I do understand it now, I understand the whys and the reasons* and in theory I agree with them, sort of. But right now when I think about this eleven-week-old baby who will likely still end up in our family someday,** I know that each day he spends living with his relative is going to make his transition to our family that much harder later. And it royally ticks me off to think that this organization that is supposed to be about the children is creating a problem in this infant that didn’t exist in the first place. Whereas he could have come into our home at birth (like his big sister), bonded with our family and his siblings and never known the difference unless his mom got her life together (in which case we want to be a part of her life anyway), now he’s going to have a rough transition to our family at the age of 18 months or two years or three years. He managed to enter the system with the least issues of any foster kid I’ve ever seen or heard of, and yet CPS is going to create some by putting him elsewhere first. Thanks a lot.

So I started the year with three children, by August was expecting a fourth, and by October a fifth! Now I’ve ended the year with the original dear three with no plans for more under the present circumstances.

* I know this post doesn’t give enough details to make sense, but there are confidentiality issues and very complex policies that govern how CPS cases are handled and I didn’t want to get into them right now. Suffice to say, they originally called us to take him, but then decided to put him with a relative and will only call us in the future if they need us to adopt him.

** I am truly all in favor of reunification and would love nothing so much as seeing this mom get her life together, but her history and the odds are against it.

My PSA of the day: Parents, do not ignore snoring in your kids. Snoring is not normal for children and can be a symptom of a nighttime breathing problem. Lou has been waking frequently of late, crying, restless, impossible to soothe. I hate feeling helpless when my child obviously needs something, but I don’t know how to comfort her or help. I’m the mommy! At the very least, my presence and my love should be comforting! Last night I spent the better part of the night next to her in her bed, and I noticed a pattern. She would snore heavily and erratically, then she would stop breathing for about five seconds, take a shallow breath, stop breathing again, then awake spluttering and choking, shift positions and go back to sleep. And begin the cycle all over again. SLEEP APNEA!

I’d never heard of this in children. I knew it could be a problem in overweight adults or those with allergy problems, but a kid? Lou also has mild asthma to which I always attributed any breathing problems, but in the moments when she would fully wake, her breathing was smooth and her lungs clear. It wasn’t her asthma.

So at 1:53am this morning I’m sitting on the laptop, eating a muffin and reading up on sleep apnea. I wanted to see if there were any positioning tips to help, like sleeping in a chair or with a wedge. Nope. For true OSAS (obstructive sleep apnea syndrome), the two options are CPAP or surgery. CPAP (continuous positive airway pressure) is a facemask strapped to your head and hooked up to a machine, that forces air past the obstruction so you can breathe and sleep. It is worn every night. Surgery is done to remove the obstructions, usually tonsils, adenoids, and/or excess nasal tissue.

I’m pretty sure Lou has true OSAS. One has to only hear her try to sleep to know it. In fact, I think I’m going to make a recording of her sleeping to play for the pediatrician, and maybe we can skip the sleep lab. As much fun as a nightly machine wouldn’t be, since most kids outgrow OSAS, I’m thinking I’d prefer it to surgery.

And now, on to the rant.

I went back to bed, but couldn’t sleep. I knew I needed to call the pediatrician in the morning, and I was dreading the confrontation. See, my kids haven’t seen the doc since January, when we took them in to get their general health checkups for our hoped adoption. We had a huge falling-out with our beloved pediatrician, Dr. B, when he got very angry and not-so-subtly called us irresponsible parents for our choice to delay vaccinations for our children and then only selectively vaccinate them (I’m not discussing our reasons in this post). He then subsequently refused to sign their forms stating they were in good health. We left, with E grinding his teeth and me crying and carrying unsigned forms. (See, I’d mistakenly assumed that the doc would disagree with us but recognize the limit of the professional relationship.) E then spent hours on the phone with almost everyone in the department, arguing the definition of healthy as being “free from disease” instead of fully vaccinated and not currently sick. He had the nurse send an email to every pedi in the practice (about 30 of them) to see if any of them would be willing to sign the forms. One, count ‘em, ONE doc was willing.

We got the forms signed, but the doc wasn’t one I’d like to be their regular doc. So today I must get Lou an appointment with a new doctor and interview him to see if he will be a good fit for our regular family pediatrician.

What do I want? I don’t think I’m asking all that much, to be honest. I want him to fulfill his role as a professional who gives me medical advice for my children, then ultimately lets me make the choice as the parent. I go to him for advice because he knows medicine better than I do, but I am the parent, I make the choice whether or not to follow the advice given. And I’m well aware that the American Academy of Pediatrics recommends fully vaccinating your child according to their schedule, but they’re recommending it, and that does not translate into coercion in my book. Ironically, the AAP also currently recommends breastfeeding your child at least until age 1 (a slim percentage of moms do), but I don’t see them forcing that on mothers. They also recommend no TV until the child is 2, but how many moms do that? Can you imagine the uproar if a pediatrician refused to be your family doc if you didn’t follow all of his advice to the letter? Can you imagine the uproar if pediatricians guilted and coerced and insulted those mothers who didn’t breastfeed until their child was 12 months? If they called Child Protective Services because your 18-month-old watched Sesame Street?

I think if you’re going to recommend full vaccination and recommend breastfeeding to age 2, you should heavily encourage them and educate parents on the pros and cons, but ultimately respect the parent’s right to choose for their child. Both have documented health benefits but both require risk or sacrifice that the parent must evaluate. Anything more than encouragement and education is overstepping the bounds of the professional relationship between doctor and patient.

A few weeks ago his mother reconsidered, and my friends were crestfallen. Here was a chance that this boy, whom they already considered their son, might not be able to stay with them. His mother was going to try to work her rehabilitation plan, and no one knew whether or not she would succeed and be reunited with her son.

I got an email from my friend yesterday. “TERRIFIC news!” she cried delightedly to the one hundred family and friends on the email list, “His mother relinquished her rights! We will be able to adopt him soon!” I responded with hearty congratulations, and I thanked God that this sweet little boy would have such wonderful folks for his parents.

As I went to sleep that night, I prayed fervently for this little boy’s mother. I know nothing about her, except that she likely lives in our county and that she had signed away her parental rights that day. From the circumstances I gather that it was not an easy decision for her, but a heart-rending, soul-searching, miserably agonizing decision. Foster adoptions are almost all closed adoptions. She would likely never see her son again.

I find it interesting the God uses the analogy of a woman never forgetting her children to explain his never forgetting us. He says through Isaiah, “Can a woman forget her nursing child and have no compassion on the son of her womb?” The way this question is asked implies the answer, “Of course not!” He continues, “Even these may forget, but I will not forget you.” God’s remembrance of his children is infallible, but a mother’s memory of her child is probably as near to perfect as is possible on this earth. I’ve never met a woman who’s lost a child (to abortion, miscarriage, adoption, accident, disease, etc) who cannot tell you how old their child would be today. This boy’s mother will silently mark his birthday each year and revisit her decision to relinquish, wondering if it was right.

As E likes to say, adoption is always plan B, at best it is a “good save” of a non-ideal circumstance. In a perfect world (Plan A), this mother would be 100% capable of parenting her son well and he would never have been removed from her. My friends would not have been infertile. Children would never be orphaned. No one would ever have sinned and we’d all be God’s children without the need for adoption into his family. Adoption is a concept created by God to bring us into his family through Jesus. It is God’s plan for the non-ideal circumstance of sin. It necessarily includes elements of sorrow and joy: sorrow for what should be but isn’t, and joy for what now is.

So even as I rejoice with my friends who rejoice, I weep for the woman who weeps. I just wish I could hug her.

Luke 12:48b “From everyone who has been given much, much will be required; and to whom they entrusted much, of him they will ask all the more.”

We (my family and my dad) are moving into my childhood home, a half-hour’s drive from town. It is a huge farmhouse on 26 acres in the country. It has an inground pool and a pecan orchard. It’s beautiful and I love it.

It’s also 3/4 paid off. And by combining finances with my dad, we will have much more income and drastically fewer expenses. According to my rough calculations, we will have 2/3 of E’s paycheck free each month. This boggles my mind: a much bigger, much nicer house and lots more discretionary funds.

I can think of many, many ways to use the cash. Liquid assets are much easier to use to God’s purposes, in my opinion, because they’re so flexible. We could save some, give some to charity, use some for needs we see around us (we’ve been wanting to buy a car for a newly-single mom we know, for instance). I could go on and on if I got specific.

But the house is what I really want help with. Even with the modest home we have now, E and I have spent much time brainstorming how we could use it well. We’ve talked about converting the garage to a bedroom and hosting single or couple missionaries home on furlough. We’ve offered to host small groups. We’ve discussed subsidizing rent for a disadvantaged college student. We’ve had lots of friends over for meals and babysat kids for moms. We’ve been foster parents. I’ve tried to remain open and available for any opportunities God would present. Now that we will have a much bigger home, it seems the possibilities would expand, but because of the distance from town I’m not sure they will. Many folks don’t want to drive an hour round-trip to attend their weekly small group. And we’re not at all convenient for moms to drop kids off while they go run errands. I deeply desire to use our home to God’s glory, to be hospitable and open with the house, but my creative juices are running low on how to do that.

Any suggestions? How do you use your home to God’s glory? Please share any ideas, or parts of ideas!

Phillipians 2:13: “For it is God who is at work in you, both to will and to work for His good pleasure.”

I think I’ve determined what my role in my relationship with Mom is right now. It is to work on being ready to forgive. In order to be ready to forgive, I have to constantly battle the bitterness that I feel has built up in me over the last six months. I know it’s there because I feel sarcastic and venomous whenever I talk about her and her choices. Nowhere do I feel the sorrow over her sin or the deep abiding desire to see her repent, the way I felt when it all went down originally. Right now, I do not forgive because she has not repented, but I must work to always be ready to forgive at a moment’s notice, and continue to pray earnestly for her repentance.

This is going to be harder than I thought. Repentance and forgiveness lead to reconciliation. And to be perfectly honest, I do not want to be reconciled to her. I don’t. I dont want to ever know her new husband. (Do I have to require repentance from him before forgiving and reconciling with him, since I have never met him? I fully believe he sinned too in this marriage.) Sheesh, this gets convoluted.

So I guess this, God, is where I pray for you to will in me a forgiving attitude. This is where I take time to reflect on the magnitude of my own sins and undeservingness of Your perfect and eternal love and forgiveness, and consider how I could ever deny another human (another Christian!) forgiveness from my heart. As huge as her sin against me feels, it is a mere hundred denarii, when I owed a life’s worth to You, which you forgave. Please, please help me desire repentance and reconciliation, and help me to do it. I suppose my part is to follow through on the doing and trust You to fill in the wanting and the ability. Can you tell I’m reluctant there? Father, I truly do want to feel a desire for reconciliation with my mom, and deep in my heart I do know that I wish more than ever to be back where we were, Christian sisters. But there’s a sticking point named [her new husband]. Father, I’m going to need your help if I am ever going to love him. I just don’t know how I can do it. But if you can help Corrie ten Boom to shake hands with the cruelest of her former Nazi torturers, you can help me to be gracious and loving toward my mother’s new husband.

Or at least be ready to be so, should she (they?) ever repent.

“If your brother sins, go and show him his fault in private; if he listens to you, you have won your brother. But if he does not listen to you, take one or two more with you, so that BY THE MOUTH OF TWO OR THREE WITNESSES EVERY FACT MAY BE CONFIRMED. If he refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church; and if he refuses to listen even to the church, let him be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector.” Matthew 18:15-17

My mom has hardened her heart. For her entire Christian life, minus the last year, she has believed that divorce is wrong. But a year ago, she divorced my dad, because she decided that God would rather have her be happy, and “divorce isn’t really a sin anyway, it’s all about how you interpret the Bible!” Within six months she’d found and married a new, “more godly” man (his fourth marriage, but who’s counting?). In this time, I gently and kindly confronted her with scripture and love, then went to her with her best friend and her sister, then with an elder and his wife from our church. She repeatedly blew all of us off. Finally, she baldly told me she wanted her new man more than she wanted her relationship with me and my family. To this I responded with intense sadness that our relationship would have to change as a result of her choices.

Now, six months after this admission of priorities, she’s trying to woo me. I say “woo” because that’s what it feels like. She’s constantly calling, emailing, instant messaging. Calling me Dear or Sweetie or Honey. Asking how we’re doing, if I want to get together, can she pray for me, how about she come watch the kids so E and I can have a date. Emailing me little Christian anecdotes or devotionals. Treating me the way we’ve always related, up to a year or so ago.

I know she thinks that enough time has passed for me to have “cooled off” and “grown accustomed” to her being remarried. But this is not something time alone will heal. I am faced with having to define our relationship to her, which means I must finally commit myself to some firm guidelines of what it looks like to “let [her] be to [me] as a Gentile or a tax collector.”