**Feel free to print for personal use only**
I encourage you to read the daily passage in context. You can find it here.
**Feel free to print for personal use only**
I encourage you to read the daily passage in context. You can find it here.
Today I am thankful for our safety. The world is a dangerous place fraught with all kinds of perils that I never realized existed until I became a mama. I remember my mom talking about them when I was a kid but I didn’t believe her. Now I know she was right. Danger lurks around every corner!
We don’t live in fear, though. My daughter runs and climbs and goes outside and gets scrapes and plays in dirt and has adventures. Danger can happen whether she is running wild or asleep. In fact her only major injury so far happened when she was sleeping. The potential danger doesn’t keep us from living life but it does make me thankful that we are safe and healthy.
Judy Ross is a brave mama who opened her heart and home to all her children, biological, adopted, and fostered.
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I don’t feel brave very often. I mean, I like to think that if the situation presented itself, that I would do something courageous, like saving a pedestrian from an oncoming car, or going into a burning building to save a child, however, life rarely presents us with chances like that.
Sometimes, though, bravery is born out of necessity. For instance, soon after my second son was born, I found out that I was pregnant again. I certainly didn’t feel brave, I mostly felt scared and overwhelmed. Then, I miscarried, and I felt guilt and shame. Partly because I hadn’t even gotten used to the idea of being pregnant and actually “wanting” that baby yet, and partly because I felt that I could have done “something” to prevent the miscarriage. Statistically, I couldn’t have, but still the feeling persisted, but, I had to go on with life and the boys that needed me. God provided just enough bravery to get through the days. One at a time.
A couple of years later, my husband and I decided that we were done having children, and took certain measures to make sure that we were permanently done. But God had another plan for us.
Four years later, He began leading us toward adoption. As we searched and found out more information about adoption, it was clear that it was God’s plan for us. However, we weren’t brave enough. We were inundated with feelings of fear, anxiety, and inadequacy. So we quit.
That lasted three, long, miserable days. We certainly weren’t suddenly brave at the end of those days, but we were completely convicted that we needed to act despite our fear. He gave us just enough bravery and provision to get through that adoption. One step at a time. We were just brave enough to answer the questions of, “Why start over, now?” as our youngest was already nine and halfway out of the house. Just brave enough to admit that we didn’t have enough funding to get through each step. Just brave enough to not quit despite all of the roadblocks. Just brave enough to continue when the adoption process lasted a full year longer than anticipated. Just brave enough to get through the wait, no matter how long it took. And, of course, our beautiful Hannah was worth the wait.
Then God called us toward adoption again. Were we brave enough to take a chance? This time, we thought that we had it all together, and felt plenty brave. Our baby was due in just a short month, and we rushed to get it all together. Two weeks early, we got the call that our newest daughter was on the way! Keith was out of town, so I hurried, alone, to the hospital to be by birthmom’s side. A few hours later, I held our sweet baby in my arms. She was perfect in every way, and it felt surreal as I held her. Then, life once again changed in an instant when the nurse took her from me only 20 minutes later. Forever. She went home with her birthmom, and I never saw her again. Needless to say, all feelings of bravery went out the window as I left the hospital with both my heart and arms aching for the daughter I had only known for a short time. But, God gave me enough bravery to go on. Just enough to get through the days of despair and grief.
Fast forward one more year. And one more try. Were we brave enough for foster to adopt? No. No way. Well, maybe. Ok, yes. Just brave enough to allow ourselves the ability to be hurt again for the chance to adopt. God gave us enough bravery to open our hearts to try again. But, were we brave enough to take a baby born addicted to drugs? Oh, the “what-ifs” cast plenty of fear in our hearts, but God made us brave enough in that moment to say, “Yes.” Five days later, we brought home a beautiful baby boy from the hospital. We were faced often with fear and anxiety as the parents would make contact, then fail to show up, only to make contact again. It was a gut-wrenching time wondering if he would be ours for a short time, a long time, or forever. But God gave us enough bravery to get through each court date, every call, and each update.
Nine months later, and we are on our way to adoption with just a little over a month to go. Was it easy? Did we feel brave and confident while we waited for the birth parents’ rights to be terminated? No. Do we still fear that in the next thirty days someone from his family could show up and petition the court for adoption? Absolutely. But God gives us just enough bravery to make it through. And regardless of the outcome in November, God will make us brave. Not excessively brave, that we will be able to say that we can sustain ourselves, but just brave enough to know that Our Father is all that we need.
Today’s brave story is from a fellow blogger named Sera. Her blog, Prone to Wander, Lord, I Feel It is a joy to read. Head on over there and check out some of her amazing posts!
Stories from the Interwebs
For as long as I can remember, I have always been afraid of someone I love dying. I think it started as a fear of no longer being able to see someone and has since become no longer seeing them because they died. My first memory of this fear planting a seed was when I was in grade school. My parents were a little late to pick us up from school one afternoon and as my sisters and I sat waiting for them, I saw a plane fly overhead. All of a sudden, I started silently crying because this bizarre thought popped into my head that my parents were on that flight and I would never see them again. It wasn’t true; my parents came shortly after the plane flew away. I was young. It was an irrational thought.
Nevertheless, even though it was irrational, it has stuck with me throughout my life. While growing up, I feared losing my parents, my siblings, my cousins, my friends, my future children, and my husband. Before my husband and I got married, while we were still dating, I remember some nights when I would wake up in the middle of the night in sweats, panicking, and frantically texting him to make sure he was still alive. In the first few months of our marriage, there were times when I would be hesitant to let him go to work or to the grocery store because I was certain he would die from a freak car accident or a school shooting (he worked at a college). I would lay awake at night, consumed by my fears and in tears while he held me, comforted me, and spoke Truth back into my heart and mind.
Things changed in September 2014 when my fear came true.
My husband Matt and I found out we were pregnant on our wedding anniversary and after the initial shock of “we’re going to be parents?!”, we were thrilled and became instantly head-over-heels in love with our baby who we found out was about the size of a poppy seed. We downloaded several apps to help us keep track of our Little One’s growth and every night, as we got ready for bed, we thanked God for the gift of life and prayed that our baby’s body was growing and developing the way the apps said they should. We planned, started picking out names, and learned as much as we could about pregnancy.
Our worlds came crashing down when we went in for our first ultrasound. As we sat in the waiting room, I knew something was desperately wrong. There should not be that much bleeding this early (or ever) in a pregnancy. My husband and I sat in silence in the waiting room, holding back tears amidst the handful of joyful couples smiling and talking quietly amongst themselves. When our names were finally called, we went to the examination room and they found no heartbeat. Our baby had died two weeks previously.
Matt and I have never felt such crushing pain as we did from finding out we had lost our child. Not only did our baby die, our hopes and dreams for a future with our baby also died. (As I reflect now, I’m discovering that a miscarriage is a strange thing. Before we had our miscarriage, we knew of maybe two people who had had miscarriages. After we told our miscarriage story to the public, we received dozens of messages and emails from people telling us “we’ve been where you’ve been.”)
My heart has always been ministered to through songs and the weeks following our miscarriage, one of the ways I grieved was through songs. I searched out and listened to both Christian and secular songs that had any reference to a miscarriage. I found songs with lyrics that spoke my heart and I played them on repeat until I found the next song that reflected where I stood in my grief.
I remember the first time I realized how my fear of losing a loved one to death had come true with the death of our baby. It was a few days after the ultrasound and I immediately became more afraid, then angry, then devastated. And the fear gripped my heart even more. The days following the miscarriage, I was terrified of leaving Matt’s side. In my warped, exhausted, grieving state of mind, I was convinced that since God let our baby die, there was nothing stopping Him from letting my husband die, also. God was surely against me in that way. I was sure of it. Why else would He take our baby from us? I didn’t want to, but I lived with this extreme fear and twisted mindset for three months after the miscarriage. Every night, in my despair, I prayed that the fear would leave me and that I would not let it reign over my mind.
One day in mid-December, I was sitting at work and streaming Pandora on my phone. A song came on that I did not recognize but a few lyrics caught my attention: For You are for us, You are not against… You make me brave. I looked up the song lyrics and relistened to the song as I read the lyrics. As I listened and read, things started making sense in my brain.
“…King of Heaven, in humility, I bow as Your love, in wave after wave crashes over me, crashes over me. For You are for us, You are not against us – Champion of Heaven You made a way for all to enter in. I have heard You calling my name. I have heard the song of love that You sing. So I will let You draw me out beyond the shore into Your grace.
You make me brave, You call me out beyond the shore into the waves.
You make me brave, no fear can hinder now the promises You made.
You make me brave, no fear can hinder now the Love that made a way.”
As I listened to the song on repeat, revelations were being made to me, things I had never really thought of before. God was for me, He was not out to get me. I was so afraid after the miscarriage that I was sure one of God’s goals was to make me as miserable as possible. This song reiterated things I had heard but had not really taken to heart. God is for me. God is on my side.
As I read and heard those lyrics, a flood of other Truths and Promises came flowing back into my heart and mind: I am a conqueror and co-heir with Christ (Romans 8.17); Nothing is able to separate me from God and His love for me (Romans 8.38-39); God was right there with me through all of it – the miscarriage, the grief, the fear (Deut. 31.8); God will be with us in our future, whatever that holds.
Daily, I’m in the process of retraining my brain and my heart to be brave and not to be afraid – of the big things and the little things. Some days it’s more of a battle than others, but my battle cry (which sometimes is boldly proclaimed and other times whispered in despair) has become “He is for me, He is not against me” and “He makes me brave.”
Sera
Hello again! Today’s brave story is a beautiful account of God building up a family. Suzanne and her husband Adam have two adopted children and one on the way from China! I hope this story excites you to step out in faith!
Stories from San Antonio (and China!)
Waters crashed beneath his feet, but in that moment of trust, Peter didn’t even notice. His eyes were bravely fixed on the one who calms our fears and carries our burdens. Suddenly, distractions over came him, and his eyes were drawn away from Jesus, down to the waves. Fear enveloped him, and he was sinking.
Have you ever felt like Peter? Boldly stepping out in faith, only to momentarily lose sight of Him and scream out, “Wait! What was I thinking? Lord, save me!” as you realize you are standing on water with no boat or support. The hand of Jesus reaches out to catch you, as He says, “‘You of little faith, why did you doubt?'” (Matthew 14:31b, NIV)
How quickly we sometimes step out in faith but just as easily forget about Him.
Adoption is an amazing journey of faith and trust. There are moments that are easy because you clearly see the hand of God, but at the same time, there are decisions to be made that are incredibly difficult or scary. And then are moments in the journey when fear, disappointment, or doubt can creep in and pull your focus away from the Lord. You begin to sink, only to realize you must cry out to Him for help.
Choosing to follow God’s call to adoption was easy in theory. We said, “Yes, Lord! Adoption will be our plan A.” Our hearts leaped with excitement at the thought. We pushed forward, but as the country paperwork phase began, mounds of documents started collecting on my desk, and I began to feel as it I would never get finished. I can honestly say that now, on our third adoption, it doesn’t get any easier.
With each new adoption we step out into uncharted waters, initially excited at what God has in store, but inevitably, at some point, I let the crashing waves distract me and pull focus momentarily away from the One who asked us to water on water in the first place. Questions and impatience creep in trying to pull my focus from Jesus. How do we pick achild? Is this my child? What if God asks you do something CRAZY that you never thought you would do like adopt an 8 year old boy?!
The good news is that even when we let things pull our focus in the wrong direction, God is there ready to grab hold of us and pull us out of the water. Even though we doubt at times and our faith may waiver, He will forgive us and help us to bravely push on. Hopefully, we gain a little more faith before the next wave hits us. With each adoption, while I have been distracted at times, I can look back and remember how His timing is always perfect and His plan far exceeds my finite imagination.
So when God asks us to travel into uncharted waters for Him, step out bravely in faith knowing and remembering all that He has done for us and how everything we do should bring glory to His name. He is faithful. He will not forsake you and will be there to carry you.
“’For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways,’
‘As the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts.'”
declares the Lord.
(Isaiah 55:8-9, NIV)
After struggling with infertility for 5 years, God led Suzanne and her husband Adam to His Plan A for their lives—adoption! Their daughter came into their lives in 2011 from the Fujian Province, China. Their son joined their family in January of 2013 from Shanghai, and another little girl will be joining their family in 2015 from the Hunan Province. After a career in politics, Suzanne is thankful for God’s provision in their lives that now allows her to work part time as a Pilates instructor while home schooling their children. You can follow their adoption journey and life on their blog, Surpassing Greatness.
Merry Christmas! Today is Thursday which means it’s story time! Today’s writer is Ora Linville. This lady is one of the bravest people I know. I hope you are as encouraged by her story as I am!
Stories from San Antonio
Bravery. This is a word that I have heard so much in the past six months. Before that, it was a word that I never really thought much about. Thanks to the MOPS, International theme for 2014-2015, “Be You, Bravely,” I have had a lot of time to consider the topic of bravery.
Those of you who know and see me on a regular basis know that I have blue hair. Seriously. I decided to put the blue streaks in in early September. I have received a lot of comments from friends and strangers alike. Some of the comments are something like, “wow!! that’s so brave!” I think I have even said, “Oh, you know, just ‘Being me, Bravely!'” However, if I’m being honest, I don’t really think that was an act of bravery for me. Gutsy, maybe, but not really brave. Perhaps letting my gray hair come in without constantly covering it up would be more brave. But, seriously, I’m only 35 – I have plenty of time to bravely embrace my gray hair!
Some would define bravery as an absence of fear. When we think of bravery, we often think of the super heroes that we grew up watching. Not only do I think this is a wrong idea of what bravery is, I think it is dangerous. The truth is that we all face fear – the types and levels of fear are different for each of us, but it is something we all deal with in this life. Fear is often a good thing, and not usually something that we need to rid ourselves of in order to be brave.
As I have been thinking more about what bravery means for me, I’m coming to the conclusion that bravery can be seen in graciously living the life God has entrusted to me regardless of whether or not it has turned out the way I had envisioned it.
As all girls do, I spent much of my childhood dreaming of what my adult life would look like: A big house that cleaned itself (those would be invented by the time I was an adult, I was sure of it), a gorgeous husband who practically worshiped me, and two perfectly behaved children who never got dirty. No financial issues, no pain, no fears. In my mind, life was going to be perfect. I won’t say that I went into marriage with the same delusions of perfection, but I did have certain expectations as I buttoned up the white dress and slipped into my beaded white shoes. I was about to walk down the aisle and commit myself to one man for the rest of my life. We would exchange vows with the promise to love, honor and cherish each other until death do us part.
Little did I realize that my soon-to-be husband had expectations of what I would be as his wife, expectations that he did not share with me until after we started settling in to life together. I moved from Texas to North Carolina right after the wedding – away from my family, my friends, my church, and really my whole life. I didn’t question it. I was a wife, and this is what a wife does for her husband. As I settled in, I noticed some little things here and there that seemed odd – he did not like me having friends outside his sphere of influence, he would not let me join Bible Study Fellowship or any other study that wasn’t done at his church, he expected me to call his mother “Mom” because “she’s your mom now.” I also noticed that any time I brought up a theological concern, he would halt conversation with, “I’m your husband and the head of this house, so this is what we will believe.” This was in stark contrast to the many theological discussions we had before marriage. He went from my sweet, caring fiance to a hard and calloused husband almost overnight. Over the course of a few short months, I learned to not open my mouth and to just internalize every hateful thing that was said about me, my faith, or my family back in Texas.
About one year into our marriage, we traveled back to Texas to visit family. My family and friends did not recognize the person I had become. Before marriage, I was happy – I smiled, I laughed, and I had a sparkle in my eye. The woman that came back to visit was extremely quiet, looked down constantly, made an innocent joke and then quickly apologized to her husband for making it, and had little life in her at all. I will forever be thankful to my family and dear friends who pulled me aside, shared their concerns with me, and asked me what was really going on. They helped me see that I was being broken down through the hateful words and unreasonable restrictions.
I went back to North Carolina with many people praying for me. . I prayed that God would soften the heart of my husband. I truly believed that God’s will would include the healing of my broken marriage. I knew that I didn’t go into the marriage lightly. I was in this for life. Things didn’t get easier. Having had my eyes opened to the emotional and spiritual abuse that I was dealing with, I was able to resist the arrows of hate that were constantly launched at me. This resistance was met with more anger from my husband and his family. On June 4th, 2007, my husband came home from work particularly angry. He ate his dinner in silence and then started letting me know all the ways I had disappointed him that day. I remember standing up and telling him that I would not take the abuse any longer. He then started throwing anything he could get his hands on. Knowing that physical abuse would likely follow if I remained in the house, I packed a few things I would need overnight and walked out.
I. Walked. Out. This wasn’t what I wanted. This wasn’t what I had prayed for. This wasn’t how my life was suppose to go. I didn’t know what was going to happen next. However, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was the right thing to do, and I stand behind that decision to this day. By March 2008, I was divorced. Divorced! As a young girl and even a newly-wed, I never could have imagined myself divorced.
I was scared out of my mind and I still did the brave thing when I walked out. God didn’t plan for me to stay married to my first husband – God had much bigger plans for me. I am so thankful that God’s ways are not always our ways! If things had gone my way, I would not be married to Michael today and I would not have my two precious children. I wish I could tell you that I have this brave thing all figured out and if you do x, y, and z, you’ll master it too. I still struggle with trust and bravery on a daily basis. Things rarely go the way I expect them to. Being brave is a process and the biggest step I can take is to give God the reigns every day and let Him drive. Maybe, just maybe I’m on my way to accepting my gray hair after all.
Mom's Going to Madagascar 