In Other Words: Keep Celebrating

Christmas has passed, but we our still celebrating. How about you?


Before the new year begins, take a moment to reflect by reading Ann Voskamp's post on continuing the celebration in our hearts.
Read here.

In Other Words:Head on Over to...

Due to Christmas quickly approaching, our schedules here at 2TL are full of family, friends, and festivities. Therefore, we are taking a bit of a different approach to "In Other Words" today. Instead of sharing a post from another blogger here, we are just going to send you over to her blog.


This week, as we look to Christmas, we encourage you to take a moment to reflect by reading Ann Voskamp's post on The Real Beauty of Advent.

Read here.

In Other Words: Christmas Conundrum

Here at 2theLeast, we love following Jen Hatmaker's blog. You may have noticed as we've shared some of her posts already. We love that she and her family are learning to do life differently, that she is honest in the process, and that she invites everyone to learn with her. Just after Thanksgiving she posted about the change that has occurred in their house at Christmas. We were encouraged and challenged and we pray the same for you as you read.


Originally posted:
November 29, 2011
www.jenhatmaker.com
by Jen Hatmaker
 
When I was in sixth grade, I received two Christmas presents I distinctly remember:

1.) The most coveted, desired beautiful "Forenza" tag on a pair of black leggings with a corresponding purple and black plaid shirt. (The outfit could've been anything, as long as it was from The Limited. Outback Red, anyone? Omg. If I could've conjured riches back then, I would've spent every red cent on OBR.)

2.) A fun, quirky red "football jersey type" sweatshirt.

I loved them both. Loved, loved, loved. I was certain these gifts were my ticket out of Dorkville. The feathered, product-less boy haircut and Bargain Selection glasses would become moot in light of my new, stylish garb. The popular kids would wonder what they ever didn't see in me. The cute boys I pined over would fight over inviting me to Sadie Hawkins, and they would say things like, "Why haven't we noticed her before? We're like Saul after the scales fell from his eyes." Or at least something very, very similar to that.

Until one very unfortunate eavesdropping session.

Supposed to be in bed but creeping in the hall listening to my parents' conversation which simply seemed like a naughty, awesome thing to do, I heard my mom say this:

"Her red sweatshirt? I found it at Walmart for $3.00."

Oh.
No.
She.
Didn't.

And just like that, the sweatshirt was ruined. In front of my eyes, it lost all its charm and it simply became something a Walmart girl would wear because she couldn't afford Esprit and her mother refused to buy her Guess jeans. All of a sudden, it communicated: I'm poor. (I was in sixth grade, people. It was a very dramatic time.)

Here's why I tell you about my persecutions: That is the only thing I remember from Christmas 1985. Not Jesus. Not reverence. Not generosity. Not gratitude. Just a selfish, materialistic reaction because every single gift of mine wasn't from an overpriced store with a namebrand I could casually brag about wearing. What a brat.

This sort of bull crap is still happening every year.

What happened to Christmas? What on earth happened to it? When did it transform from something simple and beautiful to what it is now? How insiduously did the enemy work to slowly hijack Jesus' birth and hand it over on a silver platter to Big Marketing, tricking His own followers into financing the confiscation?

We all know it. We all feel it. Every year we bear this tension. Each December, the world feels off kilter. But in the absence of a better plan or an alternative rhythm or - let's just say it - courage, we feed the machine yet again, giving Jesus lip service while teaching our kids to ask Santa for whatever they want, because, you know, that's really what Christmas boils down to.

I just cannot take it anymore, yall. I cannot.

What if a bunch of us pulled out of the system? What if we said something very radical and un-American, like: "Our family is going to celebrate Jesus this year in a manner worthy of a humble Savior who was born to two poor teenagers in a barn and yet still managed to rescue humanity."

I'm going to throw out some ideas for what I hope is a more meaningful Christmas; you may take some and leave some. Good reader, you may take none. Maybe you'll tweak an idea to fit your family. You might say, "For the love of Baby Jesus! She's ruining everything! We'll try one little thing this year, ok?! And then we'll quit reading her blog." Here goes:

1.) Because I'm anxious to make enemies and isolate myself from any goodwill you've ever felt toward me, let me just start with a biggie: We've pulled out of the Santa charade. Our newest kids are 5 and 8, preparing for their first Christmas in America, and we're just not doing it, yall. Maybe because we've spent the last four years trying to unravel the mess we've presented to our other kids all these years, but hear me say it: We are giving Christmas back to Jesus. Not a corner of it; all of it.

There is no fake benefactor this year my kids can petition to get more stuff. Because honestly? For a five-year-old, how can Jesus compete with Santa? Our children don't have spiritual perspective; when faced with the choice of allegience, they have a baby in a manger, or they can get a jolly, twinkling, flying character who will bring them presents. This is going to be an easy choice for them. My friend Andrew, who identifies himself as a member of the "non-believer corner" put it this way:

I always thought it was strange how Christians will tell me they have this giant and awesome truth they know is true deep in their soul and want to share with me, but when 12/25 comes around they lie to their own progeny because, apparently, that giant, liberating, and awesomely simple truth is somehow just not enough. It may be a good narrative, but it needs a little something to give it some panache.

As importantly, it sets this tone for Christmas: Be good and you'll get stuff, which becomes so deeply seeded, undoing that position is almost impossible. When we teach our children to understand Christmas through this lens, then tell them at nine-years-old: "Never mind! It's all fake! Oh, and stop being so selfish because Christmas is about Jesus"...we shouldn't be surprised when our kids stage a mutiny and ask to move in with Grandma. Young parents, this is so much easier to do right the first time rather than try to undo later. Give your kids the gift of a Christmas obsessed with Jesus - and no other - when they are little, and it will be their truth all their lives. Some practical points:

* When faced with Santa everywhere, everywhere, everywhere, we told our kids the story of the original St. Nicholas from the 3rd century, and his devotion to Jesus and the poor. We explained that Santa is a character based on his life, but one was real and one is pretend. We also told them some children believe Santa is real, and it's their parents' job to talk about that with their friends, not theirs. In other words, DON'T BE THAT KID WHO MAKES EVERYONE CRY IN THE MIDDLE OF CLASS. You're welcome, teachers.

* For the most part, we are not watching TV this month. We're allowing movies and Netflix, but the less commercials our kids have to digest, the less confusing this month is for them. Um, ditto for all of us. When there are commercials that say, "Hey? You know how to avoid the terrible Disappointed Face when you give your loved one her gift? Buy her a Toyota!"...we have seriously derailed, folks.

* Take a big breath: I got rid of all my Santa paraphernalia this year. No more severed ceramic Santa heads up in here. Try not to flip out. (I am in the "undoing" category I mentioned above. So freaking hard.)

* This is big: I AM NOT JUDGING YOU. If you put carrots on your front lawn for the reindeer and stamp bootprints all over your living room from Santa's shoes, that is fully your prerogative. You don't need to hide your Santa wreath when I come over or defend your position to me or anyone. For us, Christmas has gone through four years of reconstruction, each year progressively more simplified. I know God is doing all sorts of different things with different families at different times; everybody be cool.


2.) While you're stewing over Santa, let's go ahead and tackle this one: spending. Whatintheworld? We recently watched a video from Christmas 2004 when our kids were six, four, and two. (Sidebar: Those of you with a 6-year-old, thinking he is so big? You will die one hundred thousand deaths in seven years when you look back at videos and realize he was just an infant baby. And then you will cry drippy, sad tears because you'll realize that when all those old women told you to enjoy early childhood because it will pass so quickly, and you wanted to kick them in the shins, they were right. It is over in a nanosecond and the next thing you know, your "six year old" is texting and getting ready for high school and smells like the inside of a trash can.)

I digress.

When we saw the mountains of presents in front of our P.R.E.S.C.H.O.O.L.E.R.S. and watched them rip through boxes so fast, they had no idea what they even received, I caught Brandon's eye across the room and mouthed, "We were freaks!" Not to mention all this bounty was brought into a home burgeoning with loot already, so we had to get rid of a bunch of toys just to shoehorn in the new stuff. Kindly note that the recipients of all this commerce couldn't even wipe their own butts yet.

Insane at best, sacrilegious at worst. 

Four years ago, we started this gift-giving policy for each kid: Something you want, something you need, something to wear, something to read. That's it. (This year we are adding something to give, and I'll talk about that in a minute.) Brandon and I don't buy for each other, and we draw names with our extended families, so each adult only buys one gift.

Friends and countrymen, we simply need to spend less on ourselves. There are plenty of practical reasons, like debt and financial strain and untold energy and stress. But even if we could afford to spend $500 on every important person in our lives, that sort of egregious consumerism is unbecoming for the Bride of Christ during a season that is supposed to be marked by the worship of Jesus.

We can find alternative rhythms to show each other our love. My mother-in-law is so very, very good at giving meaningful gifts based on making memories together. She takes my kids to plays and museums and day trips. She invites them to her house individually and spends precious time with them. My kids gobble this time with her down. Let's give the gifts of time and experiences and our creative talents and words this year. They will last long after the electric griddle has been forgotten.


3.) Let's MAKE DADGUM SURE the products we do buy don't come to us courtesy of slave labor. Like Ashley Judd said in Call+Response, "I don't want to wear someone else's despair. I don't want to eat someone else's tragedy." Our little church has joined the dog fight against human trafficking, and let me tell you something: When I refuse to carefully examine the vendors I buy from because it is inconvenient or overwhelming or I just really want that, I am turning the key that shackles the enslaved hands forced to produce my little goodies. I am as complicit as the abusers who exploit these laborers. And please don't tell me, "Not buying this one thing produced through a corrupt supply chain isn't going to make a difference." All that means is I don't care. If it was our children forced to work relentlessly in bondage, we would we hope and pray rich consumers across the world would battle that injustice by directing their consumer dollar with purpose, communicating to capitalistic opportunists "NO WE WILL NOT." We will call unethical business leaders to task with our words, our votes, and our money.

So many fantastic resources to help us become responsible consumers, calling vendors to reform and repentence using the language they truly understand...lack of profits:

* Download the Free2Work app, which allows you to scan barcodes and find out if that product is made responsibly or by slave labor.

* New to this conversation? Learn from our friends at Not For Sale. They are LEGIT.

* Need convincing? Download this Slavery Footprint and see where you land: "How many slaves work for you?" (Holy moly.)

* Know the top products made by slave labor, so you can be extra diligent on who you purchase them from. Careful...some of your faves are on the list (coffee, chocolate, cotton, sugar).

* Learn trusted vendors and stick with them, even if they cost more. We will not finance the slave industry because we are addicted to artificially low prices made possible by not paying the labor force.


4.) On the other hand, we can do so much good with our dollar! I think about the Acts 4 church, redistributing their resources "to anyone who had need." Such beauty. We can direct our Christmas dollar in two ways for great good:

Buying Products with a Conscience

These products range from beautiful artisan crafts made by former sex slaves or recipients of microloans; they include companies who use profits for international justice or employ vulnerable workers. Fabulously, these options are legion, and you don't have to look hard to find them. I'll include a few, then hopefully readers will add to the list of responsible vendors in the comment section:

www.cometogethertrading.com
www.redearthtradingco.com
www.furnacehillscoffee.com/index
www.preemptivelove.org
www.noondaycollection.com
www.bethejoy.com
www.goodnewsgoods.com
www.theopenarmsshop.com
www.commonthreadz.org
www.globalgirlfriend.com
www.3seams.com
www.ravenandlily.com
www.tradeasone.com
www.thehungersite.org
www.funkyfishdesigns.com

Giving

The second stream we can choose to float down this Christmas is out from underneath the consumer umbrella altogether (mixed metaphors, anyone?), and it is simply sharing our resources with those who need intervention to break the cycles of poverty and despair. This year, we are giving each of our children $100 to spend on the vulnerable. This is part of their Christmas present, because as you and I know, it just feels so awesome to be a part of Jesus' redemptive story. We will give them some options, and they can distribute their money however they want. Here are some trusted, responsible organizations to partner with, donating in increments as low as $10:

www.IJM.org/GiftsofFreedom
www.worldvision.org
www.mercycorps.org
www.miraclefoundation.org

5.) Finally (and all the readers breathed a sigh of relief), instead of just pulling old habits off the shelf and leaving a vacuum of void and guilt, let's replace American practices with - and I mean this in the most sincerest sense - Christian practices. Let's fill our homes with Jesus and find ways to worship Him with our little families every day this month. Let's join the Advent Conspiracy, daring to believe that Christmas can still change the world. May beautiful words fill our houses; lyrics like Come and behold him, born the the King of angels. As much as possible, let's mute the competing chatter trying so hard to invade our spaces; turning it down, turning it off. Celebrate Advent with your kids with diligence and anticipation. We ordered a fun version of the Advent Calendar, and each night the kids open a new envelope full of Scriptures and family activities. (Tonight we are reading about Jesus, the Light of the World, talking about what being a light in the darkness means, then playing flashlight tag. Yes, I'm sure someone will get hurt.)

The placement of our envelope string does not annoy Brandon at all.


Believers, let's do beautiful things together this month like serve and share and spend time with one another. Let's invite the loneliest people we know into our homes and show them Jesus. How about we make lovely food together, then share it. Parents, talk about Jesus' impending birthday like it is the most precious, thrilling, miraculous moment you have ever heard of in your life. Can we be brave enough to say "enough" to any further ruination of Jesus' day? Can we risk difficult conversations with grandparents and friends and our own children, understanding that Jesus called it the narrow way for a reason, and he wasn't kidding when he said few would find it? Let's listen to divergent thinkers and spiritual leaders who are courageously leading us in the ways of Jesus this December, helping us resist consumerism and selfishness and giving voice to our radical thoughts and inner tension.

Despite what your mother might say when you tell her you're scaling back this year, I am not trying to ruin your Christmas. On the contrary. I'm dying to rediscover what is simple and magnificent about the Savior of the World coming to earth, putting on flesh and saving my life. I so want my kids to marvel that Jesus came, just like God said he would, and he split history in two, forever transforming the concepts of hope and peace and salvation. And I just feel like when I create a season revolving around wish lists, frenzy, and alternate characters of honor, my kids will never understand any of this.

And neither will I.

Together, we have the opportunity to show a watching world something truly hopeful and sincerely beautiful this Christmas. We can live alternative rhythms in front of people, showing them something better than stress and spending and tension and exhaustion. We can raise children who understand exactly why the songwriter wrote: Oh come let us adore Him. We can partner with Jesus and bring good news to the nations yet again, fighting injustices and carrying hope to the ends of the earth through something as simple as sharing our money. Most importantly, we can render to Jesus the reverence he is owed, pushing all substitutions to the side and making our homes holy ground. This is why (from my favorite singular lyric in any hymn ever):

Long lay the world in sin and error pining
Til He appeared and the soul felt it's worth.
A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn...

The weary world rejoices indeed. Thank you, Jesus, Lord at thy birth. Joy to the world. 


Readers, how do you give Christmas to Jesus? What alternate rhythms have you established? What vendors do you love to support? And if you find yourself disagreeing, I welcome your comments as well. This is a worthy conversation and I'm just glad we're talking about it.

In Other Words: To Be a Blessing

Last month, Buckner posted some helpful advise on how to bless adoptive families. Take a few minutes to learn some little things that could make someone's day! 



Originally Posted:
Buckner.org
Novemeber 23, 2011


November is National Adoption Month, and we feel that everyone can celebrate – no matter whether your family is called to adopt or not. If you know an adoptive family, or a soon-to-be adoptive family, there are plenty of ways you can celebrate with them and help them as they transition.

1. Get excited for the family!
Adoption is something to celebrate. No matter how old the adopted child is or how many children the family already has at home, treat them the same way you’d treat a family who gives birth to a new baby.

“Bringing a child home through adoption is as joyful, if not more so, for the family as having biological children, and we want our friends and family to prepare with us and celebrate with us as they would for a biological child (shower, a card, etc.). My biological children have baby books full of cards that came when they arrived, along with many photos. My adopted child has two cards in his album. I worry that someday he will notice the difference and wonder why.”
- Lori Risinger Heinrich

“Be sensitive—if that family has had the child two years or two months or two days, the adoption day is still just as special.”
- Veronica Adkison Rountree

What you can do: Send a card, give a shower or hold a reception or small party. If you have a gift for photography, offer to take some family portraits.

2. Help around the house
When parents bring home a newborn from the hospital, they’re often met with lots of helping hands. Adoptive families need just as much help as parents of newborns! You can bless them by sharing some of your extra time and energy.

“We have friends that bring meals when we least expect it! They help so much when we are just trying to adjust with a new one!”
- Kara Guinn Curfman

What you can do: Bring over a home cooked meal, clean their bathrooms, do a load of laundry, mow their yard – anything that will give the family some relief from the pressures of daily life and more time to focus on bonding and adjusting.

3. Cut them some slack
Don’t expect a new adoptive family to be able to keep all the commitments they used to, no matter what age their new child is.

Mom and Dad are exhausted, and their child is learning how to live in a family, and even a new culture. Social situations can be overwhelming for everyone involved, and those obligations usually have to be put on hold until life at home settles down.

What you can do: Don’t be upset or hurt if calls or e-mails aren’t returned. Let it slide and know that life will return to normal eventually.

4. Listen, listen, listen
Adoptive families have unique challenges and struggles. Give them space to share frustrations and vent without feeling judged.

“I was thankful to have people who allowed me to pour out my heart without making me feel as if I had betrayed my child or didn’t appreciate the incredible gift and blessing I’d been given. They gave me an outlet, which gave me the strength to be what my child needed as he learned to trust me.”
- Lori Risinger Heinrich

What you can do: Cry with the new family in the heartaches and celebrate with them in the triumphs. You may get tired of hearing the same problems over and over again, but the family needs your support and love.

5. Give Mom and Dad a breather
Many adoptive parents will hardly have time to think straight or sometimes even take a shower, much less any quality alone time to enjoy each other’s company.

“[What blessed me was] giving me a break and taking him to park as I was adjusting to parenthood. Just being there and loving our family as our lives changed.”
- Kari Forrest Hunt

What you can do: Come over and babysit for the new parents. If it’s too soon for the kids to be alone with a sitter, offer to come over after the children are asleep so that parents can take a short walk or have a coffee date.

Four Things That Should Be Left Unsaid:

1. Don’t give unsolicited parenting advice.
This is particularly true for parents who have adopted older children or foster children. If you haven’t parented a child who has lived through trauma, you can’t know what’s best for that child. Don’t offer suggestions or advice unless they ask you for it.

2. Don’t ask about the child’s past.
“We are proud of [our son] and all he’s overcome. We long to tell you EVERYTHING about what a miracle he is, but the story is our child’s to tell, not ours. When the questions become prying and personal, it is very uncomfortable for us. We don’t want to hurt your feelings, but for our child, we have to find a nice way to tell you it’s none of your business.”
- Lori Risinger Heinrich

3. Don’t ask, “Which children are yours?”
Biological or adopted, it makes no difference. All of the children are theirs.

4. Don’t comment on a child’s appearance or ethnicity in front of him or her.
“If my child looks different than the rest of the family, chances are we’ve already noticed, and chances are he has too. Hearing constant comments about it does not help him to feel like he belongs.”
- Lori Risinger Heinrich

In Other Words: Advent Conspiracy

On Monday, Natalie introduced us to Advent Conspiracy. Take a moment to watch the video and prayerfully consider how you can be a part of making this Christmas season one that brings change to a hurting world.


[AC] Promo 2011 from Advent Conspiracy on Vimeo.

In Other Words: Camp

Today we want to share with you a post from Katie Davis. As we have told you, she is giving her life away to the least and her story has greatly encouraged and challenged us as we are learning. She lives in Uganda where she is a mother to 13 girls and where, at 19 years old, she founded Amazima Ministries. Today we share one piece of her life as a mother. We encourage you to follow her story which you can find here.

Originally Posted:

August 15, 2011

Kisses From Katie

By Katie Daivs

Rummaging through our box of paperwork, I find it and it hits me unexpected.

Her birth certificate, the one her birth mom stuffed in her bag as she sent her off to a “better life” at her uncle’s when she was only five. And at the top is a blue stamp that reads Siripi Rhino Camp.

Camp. The word hits me like a punch to the gut and I fight the urge to vomit. In Uganda, the word camp does not mean summer fun or starlit skies. In Uganda the word camp means war, displacement, hunger, hurt, trauma.

I can’t really wrap my mind around the fact that my beloved daughter spent the first years of her life in a place that is so beyond my comprehension.

Camp, this word that I want for no one in this world and hate for my daughter, this is all we have of the first years of her life. She remembers almost nothing from before her uncles’ house, and life leaves me with this word to ponder.

I want her to be a baby so I can strap her on me and hold her there and she will feel secure and safe and protected. I want to be the person who taught her to write her name and how much fun it is to make mud pies, and I want to be the person who laughed with her when she lost her first tooth. I want to know where the scars came from that she can’t remember the stories about, and I want to be the person who wiped her tears when she fell.

But I know that is not how God intended it.

He did not choose me for those moments, He chose me for these. I entered motherhood through a different door, and I get a different kind of stretch marks.

I believe that this is how He has loved us and I do not pretend to know why. But I know that He who did not spare His own Son will also graciously give us all things we need, and so I cling to believing this is for good.


I believe that He held her all the years that I didn’t. I believe that He stood beside her in the line for porridge that the UN workers passed out, and I believe that He clasped her hand as she made the long journey from Arua to Masaka without her first momma, and I believe that she leaned her head into His shoulder as she fell asleep on hard dirt floor to the sound of her uncle’s drunken fury. I believe that He carried her all the way here to this new family and I believe that His hand is on her still.

And maybe the missing pieces just allow me to trust Him more.

So I kneel beside her bed and I whisper His name over her and when I look at her face, I see His. I am thankful that He did choose me for now, these moments.

He is a good Father. And I can trust in that.

In Other Words: Amos Story

Amos Story is a song written by Aaron Ivey about his family's adoption story. It is a beautiful story and one you can find out more about through videos on YouTube and through Jamie Ivey's blog. In fact, Jamie just posted a video about when they brought Amos home. You can find it here. I recommend having some tissues close by.

AMOS STORY
Aaron Ivey. ©2009 IVEYMUSIC. (ASCAP)

Another photograph to wrestle in my head
Another sleepless night on concrete featherbed
These thoughts of you like bullets to my soul
We’ve got to find a way to get you home
I’ll find a way to get you here
If it takes my fleeting breath
Another sunrise hits the ground
And it’s a dark lonely sight
Lightyears away I hope you know
There is somebody searching
For the way to get you here
I will get you here
Throw the clocks away and run out to the street
We’ll fly to distant clouds where it’s just you and me
A day will come when all of this is gone
You’ve got to find a way to believe
I’ll find a way to get you here
If it takes my fleeting breath
Another sunrise hits the ground
And it’s a dark lonely sight
Lightyears away I hope you know
There is somebody searching
For the way to get you here
I will get you here
Close your eyes and dream of a better day with me
As angels hold you tight, may you sleep in peace tonight
So dream, dream, dream my child
Hear the whisperings of hope
It’s a song that you can sing, as you sleep in peace tonight

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Aaron Ivey is the worship pastor at The Austin Stone in Austin, Texas. (www.austinstone.org) Aaron Ivey is challenging a generation of believers to take their experiences in corporate worship out into the world, to marry song with service. An advocate for those in need, Aaron has been living out the word of God not only through music, but by engaging in a lifestyle devoted to missions and justice, and educating others about poverty and adoption. Aaron and his wife, Jamie, have four children. 'Having two children that were born and lived in the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere for the first part of their life has been the most challenging thing I’ve ever experienced. It has brought a sobering reality to the fact that millions of children are in need of adoption and support.'"

aaronivey.com

In Other Words: Where You Were

Deuteronomy 10:17-19 (ESV)
17For the LORD your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great, the mighty, and the awesome God, who is not partial and takes no bribe. 18 He executes justice for the fatherless and the widow, and loves the sojourner, giving him food and clothing. 19 Love the sojourner, therefore, for you were sojourners in the land of Egypt.


In this passage, God's people are reminded that they were once sojourners and so they ought to love the strangers they meet because they themselves have been loved. They see God's heart for the fatherless, for the widow, for the least among them. Take time to reflect. You and I were once spiritual orphans but have been adopted. We are still strangers in this land but have been loved. Are we responding to our being loved by loving those who walk where we once were?

In Other Words: Trick or Treat?

Halloween is just around the corner and the grocery aisles are lined with sugary goodness. My personal favorite is Reese's mini peanut butter cups or maybe Butterfinger. What about you? Is chocolate your downfall as well? Whether or not you find yourself in a battle of wills over eating that stash of trick-or-treater goodies, our consumption of chocolate has an effect that lasts much longer than the sweetness on our lips. Take some time to read Kristen's post below, watch the story she included, and consider making a small change that can have a big impact.

Originally posted:
October 6, 2011
www.rageagainsttheminivan.com
by Kristen
 
Yesterday I wrote a ridiculous post about deciding on a new place to buy my coffee . . . a place where the prices were really low because the store relied on children to work for little money.  My intention was to point out how selfish it sounds for someone to willingly turn a blind eye to social injustices just because we want to pay less for something we like, and how shallow our justifications sound.  I used coffee as an example because it’s one of those indulgences that people claim they can’t live without.  But it’s another indulgence that I want to talk about as Halloween approaches.  It’s chocolate.
The picture below is a photo of a young child gathering pods to harvest cocoa beans.  There are hundreds of thousands of children in West Africa who do this work.  And they are working for most of the mainstream chocolate providers in the USA.    A report from the International Institute of Tropical Agriculture about cocoa farms in the Ivory Coast and other African countries estimated there were 284,000 children working on cocoa farms in hazardous conditions.  Many of them have been taken from their families, or sold as servants.  U.S. chocolate manufacturers have claimed they are not responsible for the conditions on cocoa plantations since they don't own them.  This includes Hershey, Mars, Nestle, and the US division of Cadbury . . . who collectively represent pretty much every snack-size candy bar that will be available in stores this Halloween.  

The connection between most major candy bar manufacturers and child slavery is one of the world’s best kept secrets.  It has been going on for years, but I only learned about it last year.  The US government is currently being sued by the International Labor Rights Fund for failing to enforce laws prohibiting the import of products made with child labor, and the chocolate industry has blown by numerous deadlines set by Congress for regulating.  A few major chocolate companies have done a great job in the last year with some smoke-and-mirror campaigns . . . either offering an obscure fair-trade chocolate bar or making a show of giving to charities that support farmers. But these actions do not change the fact that they don’t want to be accountable for human rights abuses of children.  
But honestly, what concerns me even more is that we, as consumers, are not demanding that this be stopped.  People continue to buy chocolate even after learning about these human rights abuses.  I’ve heard excuses from people in my own life that sound pretty similar to the ones I made in the coffee post.  We rationalize that we can’t afford fair-trade.  We joke about how addicted we are.  We justify that we can’t change everything.  And I think secretly, we don’t relate because these are kids in a far-off country, and not our own.  It’s okay as long as we don’t have to see it happening right in front of us.
Well, I’m here to ruin it for you.  Now you know.  We can’t keep looking away.  If we choose willful ignorance on this one, then we are no better than the caricature I painted yesterday.  I’ve embedded a BBC documentary about this issue below.   Even the first ten-minute segment is eye-opening, but the whole thing will wreck you . . . and you will be better for it.  Bookmark this and watch it later.  Watch it with your kids.  Jafta saw this last year and despite his love of chocolate, he is the most fervent fair trade advocate I know after seeing this.  Share it with your friends.  Blog about it.  We’re breaking up with commercial chocolate, or buying fair trade. I hope you will, too.





*Linn at PeaceLiving has a great post about finding affordable Halloween alternatives.
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About Kristen: (taken from her blog) "Kristen is the mom of four children within four years via birth and adoption, and has been blogging at Rage Against the Minivan as a coping skill since 2004.  If you are looking for a blog with great ideas for kids, amazing craft inspiration, scrapbooking help, and stunning photography, then AWESOME. There are a lot of those blogs out there. You should go find them.  Here, you might find musings about the impact of the skinny jean on Kristen's self-esteem, her tendency to spill food on her laptop, and her inappropriate crush on Jon Stewart.  She also indulges in sleep-deprived rants about parenting, poop, adoption, politics, race, religion, social justice, and various other subjects that her mother warned her not to discuss in public."

In Other Words: Kisses from Katie

A while back we shared with you a post from Katie Davis. Katie recently released a book sharing her story and her heart. The book is called Kisses from Katie and you can purchase it through our "What are we reading" section on the right side of the screen. We encourage you to follow her story which you can find here. Today, we wanted to share with you a glimpse of the life of obedience she is walking out. This is a girl who understands what it is that we have been given and what it is that we have been called to.

In Other Words: When Love Takes You In

When Love Takes You In

by Stephen Curtis Chapman

I know you’ve heard the stories

But they all sound too good to be true

You’ve heard about a place called home

But there doesn’t seem to be one for you

So one more night you cry yourself to sleep

And drift off to a distant dream

Where love takes you in and everything changes

A miracle starts with the beat of a heart

When love takes you home and says you belong here

The loneliness ends and a new life begins

When love takes you in

And somewhere while you’re sleeping

Someone else is dreaming too

Counting down the days until

They hold you close and say I love you

And like the rain that falls into the sea

In a moment what has been is lost in what will be

When love takes you in everything changes

A miracle starts with the beat of a heart

And this love will never let you go

There is nothing that could ever

cause this love to lose its hold

When love takes you in everything changes

A miracle starts with the beat of a heart

When love takes you home and says you belong here

The loneliness ends and a new life begins

When love takes you in it takes you in for good

When love takes you in

In Other Words: Someone Take Care of Me

We want to see the world as Jesus sees it. And we want you to see it that way as well. We pray our hearts become more naturally like His everyday. However, seeing the stranger as Jesus does, loving them as Jesus does, means we must first allow ourselves to take an honest look at the world around us. There will be posts that are hard to read, situations that we would rather turn away from rather than look at long enough to hurt. This article was one such story for me. It is heartbreaking and things would be easier if you and I did not know about it. But...we do. Perhaps take some time with this one today. Let it soak, and perhaps, our hearts will look more like His when we awake tomorrow.

Originally posted:
by Brandy Campbell
Reject Apathy

It is morning, but Noelia Espinoza squeezes her eyes closed, pretending she’s still asleep. If she had a blanket, she would pull it over her head.

But there are no blankets.


In this crowded bedroom in Cochabamba, Bolivia, there are no pillows or furniture. Just a row of stained mattresses on the floor.

Six people sleep here. Bodies pressed tight. One child turns over, setting off a chain reaction. Knees curl into backs. It might be fun if it was just one night. But this is no sleepover. It’s every night. And 6-year-old Noelia is sleepy.

She hears her aunt, Maria, move in the next room. The sound of a spoon scraping against a pot is a good sign. Today there will be breakfast. Slowly, the mound of children in the middle of the floor untangles as boys and girls yawn and stretch.

Noelia and the five other children stumble into the next room where Maria stoops over a steaming pot of rice. She peels a few bruised bananas and stirs them in with the rice. The rice was given by a kind neighbor. The nearly spoiled fruit bought cheap at the market. Even then, each child will only get a small scoop of food to eat. Maria knows that in a few hours they will be hungry again.
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Maria surveys the children as they shovel the food into their mouths. She tsks tsks the littlest ones who burn their tongues, urging them to slow down. But understanding why they don’t. This wasn’t ever her plan. She and her husband had decided they wouldn’t have children until they could afford it. Until they could feed and clothe them. Send them to school.

But these aren’t Maria’s children. Not her biological ones, anyway. Each one is abandoned. Some were left by tearful mothers who promised to return. Others were dropped unceremoniously on her doorstep, their parents slipping away into the darkness. And now Maria and her husband try to scrape up enough money for food. Sometimes the children can go to school. Most days they can’t.

Noelia and her brother are Maria’s niece and nephew. Their mother abandoned her children when her new husband decided he didn’t want the responsibility. A few months later, Maria heard her sister had been killed.
Three of the children in Maria’s care have parents who moved to Spain to find work. They used to send money, a few boliviano to help buy food and clothes. But gradually the letters stopped coming. Maria tries to believe the best. That the parents are saving, and will return. That’s what she tells the children anyway.

“Your mama and papa will be back soon,” she whispers to them when they cry out in the night. She says it to try to convince herself, too.

Noelia no longer cries for her mother or father. At the tender age of six, she knows they’re not coming back. But Noelia considers herself lucky. Because every morning, when she walks with her big brother to school, she passes through dozens of children on the crowded streets of Cochabamba, the second largest city in Bolivia. Even on the mornings where she hasn’t had breakfast, when her stomach growls and her clothes are dirty and wrinkled, Noelia knows her life could be worse. At least she has Maria.

Noelia has never called Maria her hero—but that’s what she is. Because of Maria, Noelia is not a street child. She has not joined the 72,000 Bolivian children who have no home, no adult supervision, no protector.

Maria would blush if you called her a hero. She would shake her head and think of the days when the children drive her crazy, always underfoot, always needing something. And although she may not feel heroic, for the six children in her care, she is their savior.

They’ve seen how abandoned children live on the streets. They’ve heard the stories of what happens. Abuse. Rape. Extortion. Even murder. They may not know the stats, but they know the truth. The average girl living on the street is raped for the first time before she turns 14. Forty percent of them will turn to prostitution at some point.
It’s not only the girls. Nearly 90 percent of street children will use drugs, primarily sniffing paint thinner. Society condemns the practice, believing drug abuse is the reason these children live on the streets. They have it backwards. More than 25 percent are on the streets because they’ve been abandoned. They sniff paint to erase the hunger, the cold, the loneliness.

There seems to be no escape for these abandoned children—these young victims of poverty. At best there is a bit of shelter, someone who attempts, but often fails, to care for their needs. At worst, they are invisible children on the streets who are abused and left to die.

The Bolivian government believes more jobs will greatly diminish this child abandonment epidemic. They hope to add more than 36,000 more jobs in Bolivia by 2010.

But that is too late for Noelia and the other children Maria cares for. Too late for an entire generation of children whose parents have fled the country, desperate for work. In Maria’s community, the average family makes just $840 a year. That’s $2.30 a day. They hear stories of jobs in Argentina and Brazil and Spain. It’s estimated that more than 2.4 million Bolivian adults have left the country to find work. There are no statistics on how many of their children were abandoned, but the number is estimated in the one hundred thousands.

But to Maria, those statistics mean little. All she knows is the six children crowded into her home have no one but her. And each night, as she shoos them onto their mattresses and listens to their bedtime prayers, she wonders what the future will bring. Not about the expanding job market or government help. Maria must think in the minutia. If one of her children gets sick, how will she pay for medicine? Will any of them finish school? Will they ever see their parents again?

Little Noelia snuggles close to her brother and waits for Maria’s good night kiss. After Maria slips from the room, Noelia squeezes her eyes shut and says the same prayer she says every night. The prayer that has become the mantra of abandoned children. Children who have learned uncertainty and fear. Who constantly wonder if the caring adult in their life will one day disappear. Noelia prays.

“Please, let someone take care of me.”
------------------------------------------------------------
Reject Apathy:
"At RELEVANT, we’ve recognized the movement of a generation restless to change the world. A generation anxious to use the abundance God has blessed them with to be a blessing to others. RejectApathy.com was borne out of that desire—a desire to live out true compassion and to embrace justice the right way. Reject Apathy is a voice for the movement—a place where like-minded world-changers can connect, dialogue and challenge one another as we work to affect change locally and globally."

In Other Words: After the Airport

A few weeks ago, we introduced you to the Hatmakers. And then, Jen posted on this on her blog. They are in for the long-haul. Their community is in for the long haul. How about you?

Originally posted:
September 6, 2011
www.jenhatmaker.com
by Jen Hatmaker



I'm going to tell you something; a little confession, if you will. Some of you will pull your hair out and smear your faces with ashes and put all my books on eBay and quit believing in God, but I'm willing to take that risk:

I'm really, really glad all my kids are back in school.

There. I said it. The three children that I birthed and nursed and raised from scratch, and the two children we begged and cried and screeched for and fetched from Africa...all five of these kids are in school. And I am happy, so happy, happy, happy, happy, hip-hip-hooray Mary Poppins happy.

For my friends and readers who homeschool, I tip my hat and say to you, "Well done, good and faithful servants." And believe me, I have a couple of besties who paddle in that stream, and paddle it well. For some kids in some cities in some families in some districts, this is the very right thing. The end. Why people feel the need to make a fuss about how other parents decide to educate their children is beyond me. Let's live and let live, yall. For the love of Pete.

But I cannot educate my own children, people, unless I am OK with us all becoming homicidal.

Plus, we're in a nice little Bermuda triangle where our kids feed into fabulous schools with vested teachers that make me want to weep with gratitude. The language resources for my Amharic speakers is over the top, and I have a free pass to attend school each and every day, which I have exercised with zero restraint.

But this is not a post about homeschooling or public schooling. The reason I am happy my kids are in school is not because I lack the organization to educate five kids (which I do), it's not because I've chosen a career with a moderate workload (which I have), and it's not because I'm a little sloppy on details and my kids would likely graduate with a sixth-grade education (which they would).

It's because parenting right now is EXHAUSTING and the mental break is keeping me afloat.


On July 22nd we came down the escalator at the Austin airport with Remy. On August 21st we came down the same escalator with Ben. These were two of the happiest days of my life.

I am crying with joy. Remy is ready to sprint like FloJo from the screaming white people.

Insert audio of yelling and cheering. GAH, why was she so clingy?

One month later: Here comes my man and my boy. This pic makes me verclempt.

The 7 Hatmakers on the same continent. You've been warned, America.
After an arduous adoption journey, our kids were safe in our arms, tucked into their bunk beds their dad built with his own two hands, surrounded by the dearest, most sincere community we have ever known. God delivered them from poverty and abandonment back into a family, no longer alone in this big world; now wanted and loved and welcomed with great fervor.

The end.

Not.

Remy gave us about 12 hours of honeymooning until her terror burst onto the scene. Sometimes her fear is so palpable, it literally takes my breath away. New places: terror. New faces: total insecurity. Transitions: help us, Jesus. She has asked us every single day since July 22nd if she is going back to Ethiopia. Every. Single. Day. When I discovered cashews to be a winning legume for her impossible palate, I told her:

"Yay! Good job! Cashews are good for you and will help you grow big and strong!"
"Big? Ah-Rrrremy? Big? Cashews?"
"Yes!"
She pushes them away and starts crying.
Once again, I am bewildered and befuddled.
"No! No Ah-Rrremy grow big! Me big, then go back to Ethiopia! No! Dis is no!"

When a child fears that cashews will once again leave her abandoned on this earth because she will grow out of the age we might still want to parent her, you are dealing with heartbreaking fragility.

Her fear comes out as 1.) defiance, 2.) terror, and 3.) catatonic disassociation, in that order. We've been spit on, kicked, disobeyed, refused, clung to, begged for, adored, ignored, and rejected. Triggers are unpredictable. Yesterday, we entered an hour-long Armageddon because she wouldn't put her bike up. This turned into defiance and disrespect, deal breakers as we establish safe boundaries. When at long last her angry, dark face relented, and she finally uttered in the smallest voice: "I'm sorry, Mommy. I'm sorry, Daddy," the damn broke and she cried for thirty minutes, telling us over and over that we don't love her and she is going back to Africa.

Meanwhile, Ben sidled up quietly next to me as Brandon held Remy's flailing legs, and asked in a whisper: "Mom? Forever?"

Is this family forever, even with this hysterical girl? Are you forever, even though she is draining the lifeblood out of you and Dad? Am I forever, once my junk starts coming out that I'm holding in? Are you forever for her? For me? Should I be worried that you'll only put up with this level of chaos for so long?

God love them.

We are parenting damaged, traumatized children; don't let the pictures fool you. We're in the weeds. Every minute is on; there is no off. We've arrived late, cancelled altogether, hunkered down in therapy mode, missed appointments, failed to answer hundreds of emails in a timely manner, left voicemails unlistened to, texts unread, we've restructured, regrouped, replanned, reorganized, we've punted and called audibles, we've left the bigs on their own, hoping they are functioning well on auto-pilot after a lifetime of healthy stability, and sometimes, we put "Tangled" on for the eleventh time and cry in the bathroom.

We are exhausted beyond measure.

I know what you're thinking: You asked for this. Yes we did. And we'd ask for it again, with full disclosure and foreknowledge. We would. We would say yes to adoption, to Ben, to Remy. We would do it all over again. We might do it all over again in the future.

That does not mean we are not exhausted.

I know what else you might be thinking: Are you trying to scare people away from adoption? Because this is pretty good propaganda for turning a blind eye to this mess. No I'm not. While adoption is clearly not the answer for the 170 million orphans on earth, it is one answer, and I'll go to the grave begging more people to open their homes and minds and hearts to abandoned children who are praying for a Mom and Dad and a God who might still see them.

But Brandon and I decided some time ago to go at this honestly, with truthful words and actual experiences that might encourage the weary heart or battle some of the fluffy, damaging semi-truths about adopting. Because let me tell you something: If you are intrigued by the idea of adoption, with the crescendoing storyine and happy airport pictures and the sigh-inducing family portrait with the different skin colors and the feely-feel good parts of the narrative, please find another way to see God's kingdom come.

You cannot just be into adoption to adopt; you have to be into parenting.

And it is hard, hard, intentional, laborious work. Children who have been abused, abandoned, neglected, given away, given up, and left alone are shaken so deeply, so intrinsically, they absolutely require parents who are willing to wholly invest in their healing; through the screaming, the fits, the anger, the shame, the entitlement, the bed-wetting, the spitting, the rejection, the bone-chilling fear. Parents who are willing to become the safe place, the Forever these children hope for but are too terrified to believe in just yet.

But "yet" is a powerful word in the context of faith, if we are indeed to believe in the unseen and hope for what has not materialized.

I followed a God into this story who heals and redeems, who restores wasted years and mends broken places. This God specializes in the Destroyed. I've seen it. I've been a part of it. I have His ancient Word that tells of it. I love a Jesus who made reconciliation his whole mission. My children will not remain broken. They are loved by too good a Savior. I will not remain exhausted and spent. I am loved by too merciful a Father.

So today, I'm writing for you who are somewhere "after the airport." The big moment is over and you are living in the aftermath when the collective grief or euphoria has passed. You lost a parent, a sibling, a friend, a child. The experience mobilized every single human being who loves you, and they rallied, gathered, carried you. And now it's three months later on a random Tuesday, and the sting has worn off for everyone else, and you are left in your sorrow.

I'm writing for those of you who had the oh-so-wanted baby after the cheers and showers and Facebook fervor, and now you're struggling with a depression so dark and deep, you are afraid to say it out loud. To you who moved across the country in obedience - you left your family, church, community, your jobs - and now the headline has passed and you are lonely and unanchored. For my friends who've brought their adopted children home and the media frenzy has died down, and you are holding a screaming toddler, a fragile kindergartener, an angry teen, trying to catch your breath and make it through the day without bawling while everyone else has gone back to their regularly scheduled programs...I'm with you today.

More importantly, God is with you today. He remains in the chaos long after it has lost its shine. When the delivered meals have stopped and the attention has waned, Jesus remains. He sticks with us long after it is convenient or interesting. If you feel alone today in your new normal, would you please receive this bit of beauty: this simple Scripture recited billions of times throughout the ages, perhaps without the poetry of David or precision of Paul, but with enough truth to sustain the weariest traveler:

"Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you" (Deut. 31:6).

He will never leave.

Never forsake.

Never.

For my readers who love someone living "after the airport," the big moment - be it a blessed high or a devastating low - is never the completion. The grief and struggle, the work and effort, the healing and restoring comes later. Will you call your friend who lost her mom to cancer five months ago? Will you check in on your friends who adopted this spring? Email your neighbor who took a big risk and moved or changed jobs or quit to stay home. For the love of Moses, do you have a friend who stepped out and started a church last year? Bring him a lasagna and do not be alarmed if he sobs into his french bread.


Trust me when I tell you that although we are all having hilarious moments like this:

And precious moments like this:

...we are still in the thick of hard, exhausting work, so if you ask me if these are the happiest days of my life (which a ton of you have), and my eyes kind of glaze over and I say through a tight-lipped smile like a robot, "Yes. Sure. Of course. This is my dream life"...I am lying. I am lying so you won't feel uncomfortable when I tell you, "Actually, I haven't had a shower in three days, I lost my temper with my uncontrollable daughter this morning and had to walk outside, I'm constantly cleaning up pee because uncircumcised tee-tee goes sideways onto walls, and sometimes when my two littles are asleep and we're downstairs with the original three kids who are so stable and healthy and easy, it creates a nostalgia so intense, I think I might perish. But enough about me. How are you?"

But that would be weird. So I say, "Yes. I am so happy."

If you are living "after the airport," how I wish I could transplant my community into your life; friends who have loved us so completely and exhaustively, I could weep just thinking about it. Maybe one of the most brilliant ways God "never leaves us" and "never forsakes us" is through the love of each other. Maybe He knew that receiving love from people with skin on is the most excellent way, so He gave us an entire set of Scriptures founded upon community and sacrificial love for one another. I guess He realized that if we obeyed, if we became more like His Son, then no one would ever want for mercy when their chips were down. No one. Good plan.

Oh let us be a community who loves each other well. Because someone is always struggling through the "after the airport" phase, when the chords of human kindness become a lifeline of salvation. Let us watch for the struggling members of our tribe, faking it through sarcasm or self-deprecation or a cheerfully false report. May we refuse to let someone get swallowed up in isolation, drowning in grief or difficulties that seem too heavy to let anyone else carry. Let's live this big, beautiful Life together, rescuing each other from the brink and exposing the unending compassion of our Jesus who called us to this high level of community; past the romantic beginnings, through the messy and mundane middles, and all the way to the depths.

In Other Words: It's a Girl

Last Saturday we shared with you that India has more orphans that any other country. But, the problem goes much beyond those whose parents have left or passed.  There is a brokenness in the understood value of a child. There is a documentary in the works that speaks to horrifying truth that "gerndercide" is happening in India, China, and other countries. Little girls are being aborted and abandoned. Take a minute to watch and then consider your response. 

www.itsagirlmovie.com




In India, China and many other parts of the world today, girls are killed, aborted and abandoned simply because they are girls. The United Nations estimates as many as 200 million girls(1) are missing in the world today because of this so-called “gendercide”.

Girls who survive infancy are often subject to neglect, and many grow up to face extreme violence and even death at the hands of their own husbands or other family members.

The war against girls is rooted in centuries-old tradition and sustained by deeply ingrained cultural dynamics which, in combination with government policies, accelerate the elimination of girls.

Shot on location in India and China, It’s a Girl! explores the issue. It asks why this is happening, and why so little is being done to save girls and women.

The film tells the stories of abandoned and trafficked girls, of women who suffer extreme dowry-related violence, of brave mothers fighting to save their daughters’ lives, and of other mothers who would kill for a son. Global experts and grassroots activists put the stories in context and advocate different paths towards change, while collectively lamenting the lack of any truly effective action against this injustice.

Currently in post-production, It’s a Girl! is scheduled for an early 2012 release.

In Other Words: Bend Low

       Today we want to share with you a post from Katie Davis. She is giving her life away to the least and her story has greatly encouraged and challenged us as we are learning. She lives in Uganda where she is a mother to 13 girls and where, at 19 years old, she founded Amazima Ministries. We encourage you to follow her story which you can find here.

Originally Posted:

June 3, 2011

Kisses From Katie

By Katie Daivs

Around here, we live bent low.


Tuesday morning ladies from Masese stream through my front door. We have moved our weekly meeting from the slum of Masese to my living room because I have been up all night with new foster baby and can’t imagine getting all 14 of these little people out of the house. Excited about a change of pace and my sweet friends in my home, I enlist the help of darling Tamara and 13 eager little girls to give these ladies pedicures. We wash and we rub and we paint. I rub lotion into old scarred feet and think of the journeys they have traveled. I whisper thanks for the ways they have blessed me and the things they have taught me, and here in a puddle on the hard tile floor, Joy overflows.

It is on this same cold, smooth tile that I kneel hours later, face inches away from the burn on Makerere’s calf. The stench doesn’t even bother me anymore. And while it looks horrific to outside eyes, I remember what it looked like months ago and ever so slowly, I can see the healing. I can see the healing in the blood red life that spills out as I bandage and in the smiling eyes that tell me stories as I work. Laying on my belly with a surgical blade I scrape out the dead and do my best to preserve the new pink tissue that is starting to form around the edges. He laughs and says, “I have told you now all the stories I have! It must be your turn.” And I tell him a story of a Heavenly King born as a pauper and of a Body broken for me and for him and for each one of us. And I don’t even realize but there are tears on the tile and I sit astonished that messy, inadequate, ungraceful me would get to share such a story.

We sit in the dirt, not worried about the red stains and serve 400 plates of food to sponsored children on Saturday. I look into these faces and remember them nearly 4 years ago, destitute and hopeless and starving. Afraid of my funny white skin. We feed them lunch and we feed them God’s Word and we watch them transform. We feel like family now, no one noticing these skin differences. The suns rays beat down the glory of God and covered in mud and chicken broth I know that this is contentment.

Our family sits on the street corner down town sharing ice cream and laughter. My daughter bends low to offer a homeless man her popsicle and as he cries that no one cares about him she looks straight into his face. “We will be your family,” she asserts, and she means it. We kneel on the pavement and we pray and people stop to look but we hardly notice because we were made for this.

We bend.

I bend to sweep crumbs and I bend to wipe vomit and I bend to pick up little ones and wipe away tears. I bend over a big pot of stew and I bend to fold endless laundry and I bend over math books and spelling sentences and history quiz corrections. And at the end of these days I bend next to the bed and I ask only that I could bend more, bend lower.

Because I serve a Savior who came to be a servant. He lived bent low. And bent down here is where I see His face.

He lived, only to die.

Could I?

Die to self and just break open for love.

This Savior, His one purpose to spend Himself on behalf of messy us. Will I spend myself on behalf of those in front of me?

And people say, “Don’t you get tired?” and yes, I do. But I’m face to face with Jesus in the dirt, and the more I bend the harder and better and fuller this life gets. And sure, we are tired, but oh we are happy. Because bent down low is where we find fullness of Joy.


Praying for you as you bend today for whoever is in front of you. He will meet you there.

In Other Words:The Orphan Crisis:7 ways to “Learn to do Right”

Here, at 2theLeast, our heart is not to reinvent the wheel. There are already many ministries caring for the orphaned child. Our desire is to open eyes to the need and to provide opportunity to be a part of meeting the need. Brandon and Jen Hatmaker are church planters in Austin, TX and they have walked the road of adoption. Their eyes have been opened and Brandon recently shared some insight into the Orphan Crisis and what we can be doing. We were greatly encouraged and challenged by his post and wanted to share it with all of you.

Originally posted :

August 23, 2011

FaithParley

By Brandon Hatmaker

       A little over a month ago I was visiting an overseas orphanage with a friend when I was given a reminder as to why we chose to adopt. 

       I’ll never forget walking into that first room. It was about 20 feet wide by 25 feet deep. It was packed with 27 cribs, each crib holding two infants. Among the 50+ crying infants were three caretakers feeding, changing, then switching to the next child. I was as overwhelmed experiencing it as they were trying to maintain the rotation.

       We were told the orphanage averages having at least one infant dropped into their custody a day. The week prior to our arrival, 5 babies were received in just one day. On the day we visited, there was a pair of twins they were nursing who couldn’t have weighed more than 3 lbs each.

     In the next room I counted 39 toddlers with shaved heads. Not a single adult in sight. They had obviously just received benefit from an overstocked supply of neon colored sunglasses from the 80’s. At the time, they were their prized possession all pining for me with outstretched glasses to help them put them on. The moment I put them on, they would turn around and take them off, then come back for me to help them again. For a moment I was stumped why they would do this. Then it became obvious they just wanted my attention.

       One stood in the corner crying. His glasses were broken. I’d have paid $100 to magically have another pair appear. Heartbreaking.

       Last week, in seven days, seven babies died in that orphanage. It wasn’t the fault of the caretakers. The babies that come into this place are often overwhelming malnourished, sick, or both. They do what they can. However, “what they can” is often not enough.

       It was a reminder that in a world with more than 150 million orphans, there are only thousands adopted each year. It was a reminder to me that I cannot sit idly by. While none of us can single-handedly solve the orphan crisis of our world, we must do something.

       Scripture makes it clear that the orphan is close to the heart of God:

 “But you, God, see the trouble of the afflicted; you consider their grief and take it in hand. The victims commit themselves to you; you are the helper of the fatherless.” – Psalm 10:14

       And Scripture is clear what we are to do:

“Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow.” – Isaiah 1:17

       What I love about this passage in Isaiah is not only our call to defend, take up the cause, and plead the case. But we are given the permission to LEARN how. This assumes one really big thing: That we don’t already know how. This is good news, because that’s what usually paralyzes us… the fact that we don’t know what to do or where to start.

       Here are a handful of things I’m LEARNING about caring for the orphan. I believe all are necessary and appropriate as we consider the orphan crisis today:

1. Adopt and/or pray for or provide for adoptive parents: This is the obvious one. But there are thousands of families right now considering adopting. Maybe you’re one of them. Keep praying. There are thousands more in the middle of the long and laborious process of adoption. Maybe you’re one of them. Keep praying. One thing I know about the long process: We needed prayer during this season like we needed air. There are many who are willing and want to adopt, but cannot imagine finding the resources to do so. Helping provide the resources for a family to adopt is a bigger deal than you know. For us, it was critical. If you don’t know an adoptive family to help, check out the ABBA Fund. We’ve partnered with ABBA at ANC and have a fund set up to  specifically help adoptive families financially. It’s great organization doing great things providing resources for adoptive families: www.abbafund.org
2. Provide care for birth parents: While many children are orphaned because of the death of their parents, there are many parents who would choose to keep their children if they could. I have friends in Ethiopia who have literally intercepted a young mother (and many others) attempting to abandon her child at the orphanage. If anything, just to find out if their situation is indeed redeemable. Not only did they step in to help this young mom, they provided a home for her to live in, and a job to move forward in life. Both mother and child are now like a part of their own family. Obviously, not everyone can invite a family into their home, but there are ministries and missionaries out there working to help single moms and poor families so that they don’t have to give up their children. We should find these people and orgs and seek to help them. Here’s the website of my friends in Ethiopia: www.noordinarylove.org
3. Sponsor a child: Sponsoring a child has been around for as long as I can remember. In the last few years the process has evolved from partnering with organizations only seen on national TV (leaving us wondering what’s really happening) to some very personal opportunities with ministries on the ground that you can not only know their leadership, but also be a part of their ministry on many levels, and even see first hand where your resources are going. These sponsorships are literally changing the paths of orphans. They provide better living conditions, clothes, food, care, and education. One of my favorite orgs is called “Help End Local Poverty” and is directed by my good friend Chris Marlow. For more info on orphan sponsorship through H.E.L.P check out www.helpendpoverty.org
4. Fight to improve the process: I’m a rookie at this, but I know it needs some reform. It’s a crazy balance between due process (and we DO need due process) and unnecessary red tape and politics. We don’t want to lower the bar, but we do want a more effective process. What I do know is that EVERY CHILD DESERVES A LOVING FAMILY. One of the leading orgs in not only educating but also fighting for the orphan through seeking to improve the process is called Both Ends Burning. Find out more at www.bothendsburning.org
5. Educate the Church: This one is on us as pastors. I’m amazed at how often scripture is clear that we are to fight for the fatherless, yet we do so little. And this isn’t just for the American church. My hope is to somehow add to our global pastor training a heart for the orphan. The answer for adoption in third world countries is not international adoption alone. America cannot save the world, but we can lead. We need a culture shifting movement of Christians willing to see the issue in their own land. And to see it as apart of the Gospel lived out. We need to use our influence and leadership to equip the church to be the church. (Anyone know an org already doing this? Please let me know.)
6. Improve orphanage conditions:  The adoption process takes years at times. I’m not sure of the numbers, but with millions of orphans in some countries and only thousands adopted, that leaves thousands if not millions spending their entire childhood institutionalized.  Recent studies show in America that 1 in 4 orphans who age out commit suicide. This statistic is staggering to me. What this means is that we must care for the un-adopted orphan. My friend Caroline Beaudreaux at the Miracle foundation is doing just that in India, a place where adoption is difficult yet the orphan crisis is massive. Their focus; making the conditions the best they can. Improving nutrition, healthcare, education, etc… To find out more check out www.miraclefoundation.org
7. Orphan Prevention: There are many ways to get involved in a holistic way towards orphan prevention. Almost all of them have to with poverty reduction. One of the most creative and effective ways I’ve seen is through an organization called The Eden Reforestation Projects in Ethiopia, Madagascar, and Haiti. Through environmental stewardship, Eden is creating jobs, restoring communities, educating children, and planting churches all through the seed of planting trees and addressing the issue and impact of deforestation. It’s amazing. And it works. To find out more check out www.edenprojects.org.

       This is just the beginning for me. As I said, I’m a rookie. And I’m taking seriously the call to “Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless.”

Join me as we learn.

About Brandon Hatmaker

Church Planter, Missional Strategist, Non-Profit Collaborator, and Author of "Barefoot Church: Serving the Least in a Consumer Culture". You can find Brandon's blog here. 
You can also read Jen Hatmaker's blog here.