There are no words

I was wondering what we would say when we met Matthew’s mother. (Matthew is our just adopted child.) We had a list of questions that we wanted to inquire about. What was Matthew’s father like before he passed away? What did she do for work? How was her health? It occurred to me sometime during the 6 hour drive into the Ethiopian countryside that it probably didn’t matter what words came out of our mouths. After all, I didn’t want our one-time encounter to feel like some kind of awkward job interview. Instead I realized that what Matthew’s mother needed was beyond words. I wanted her to know how deeply we respected her. I wanted her to know how honored we felt to raise her child. And I wanted her to be able to ask us any questions that she had about us.

Her name was Marta, and she was a small, pretty woman on whom life had obviously taken its toll. She wore a lime green shawl over a purple dress, undoubtedly her best outfit. She had no shoes. We sat down with her in a small room with two translators (Walatina to Amharic to English and then back again). I took her hand and bowed my head to show respect. She bowed lower, so I bowed lower. She bowed lower still. I found myself unable to outdo her courtesy. The conversation started out uncomfortably quiet. No one really knew what to say. My wife suggested we give her the photo album we prepared for her. We were told to include pictures of our family, our home, and some pictures of us with Matthew. She started flipping through the pictures and at first she was unmoved. But when she saw her son Matthew she burst into tears. She began to kiss every picture of him. Her tears were contagious. Unexpectedly, hers were tears of joy. She told us that the last time she saw her son, he was very frail and had yellow hair from malnutrition. In the pictures he was smiling and healthy. She was overjoyed. She began to bless us profusely. “God Bless you,” she said and, “to God be the glory.”

Eventually she asked us some questions, and one thing she wanted to know was if we were “Protestant Christians.” This was surprising since most Ethiopians are either Orthodox or Muslim. She rightfully wanted to know how her son would be raised. She was assured to know that we were of the same faith. (Although I hope I didn’t scare her by adding that I was actually a pastor in such a church.) She blessed us some more. She said “God bless your journey home” and “may you be safe.”

The whole encounter was beautiful beyond words. We saw yet another glimpse of God’s glory. Our perspective had changed once again. We began to wonder if our response to adoption was simply God answering the prayer of this Christian widow on behalf of her son. He is so gracious and so loving that it seemed likely to be so.

Does God Really Answer Prayer???

There’s a big hole in my backyard that says he does.

Let me tell you about it. A little over a year ago, my wife and I decided that we needed more room for our family of 5. We live in a modest rancher, and our two girls share a room. Not normally a problem, except that one is in kindergarten and the other is in Jr. high. And it’s a small room. [Think iCarly meets Dora the Explorer.] I did something no parent should ever do—I made a promise to my oldest that she could have her own room.

We started the process of refinancing our home so that we could afford to add an extra bedroom onto our house. Before finishing the loan, I went to Sendafa, Ethiopia where God called us to adopt. As it turns out, adoption costs roughly the same as adding an addition to your home. (Who knew?) And now we had a choice to make. We were definitely planning to adopt, but the funds were already slim. (Not to mention that the “funds” were really a “loan.” So now we had a big loan to pay back, no addition, but with an extra kid in our small house!

So we started strategizing how to make it all work with the amount of money that we had. But it didn’t. In fact it didn’t even come close. At the same time, a large bill came in that was unexpected, and it seemed like were in deep trouble. For the first time in a long time, I entered a dark period of fear and doubt. It only lasted about 3 days, but it was pretty intense. We prayed, and wondered how He would make it all happen. I remembered the promise that I made to my daughter that she would get her own room. I knew that God would come through somehow—but how?

Meanwhile, my wife Lesa was telling some of this story over the fence to our neighbors. It was there that our prayer began to be answered. “I may be able to help you out,” our neighbor said. Help us out? You mean like a cup of sugar and a pint of milk, kind of help?

Nope, not that kind of help.

Turns out he meant complete help, using his abilities and his dad’s resources to build an addition onto our home.

When I look out my back screen door, and see the giant hole that will soon become an addition, I see it as a kind of reminder of the faithfulness and goodness of God. He is incredible good. He answers all kinds of prayers! And he answers them in better ways than we could ever imagine.

Waiting for Matthew (our soon to be adopted son)

I can see by your picture update that you are getting bigger. Looks like that high-protein diet is really doing its job. That’s good, because you are going to need all the energy you can get to keep up with your new sister, Kara. She is so anxious to meet you. She keeps asking questions about you, especially about what you will like. “Will Matthew like to play on the swings with me? Do you think he will like soccer? Do you think he will like going to my school?” We always tell her yes, he will enjoy all of those things.

You’re also going to need a lot of energy for a big journey ahead of you. If all goes well, you will travel over 7,000 miles to your new home. It’s going to be quite an adjustment for you. New food, new language, new customs, new people, new…everything. But, if you’re like most 5 year olds don’t worry. Your new favorite food will soon become McDonald’s chicken nuggets!

I’m sure that you will grieve this transition. It’s normal to feel sad for all of your loss. You will miss the caregivers and new friends that you have made at the orphanage where you are now staying. You will miss the countryside of your homeland. And surely you are already mourning the loss of your family. There must be a hole in your heart at the loss of your father when you were only two years old. You must be grieving the loss of your two older sisters. And of course your mother. How you must deeply miss your mom. I’m sure that when she recently got sick, giving you up had to be the hardest decision of her life. I want you to know that this is not how God intended this world to be. Poverty and sickness are not part of God’s original plan. And they have robbed you from what should have rightfully been yours—a family. We will never forget the tragedy that is bringing you to us. We don’t expect you to forget it either.

But there is healing in life.

And we are so full of hope for you. We can see God’s plan bringing us together to form something new. And although it will be tough at first, we know that it can become a place of healing and joy for all of us. God wants you to have a mom and dad again…and two sisters! And for a bonus he wants to give you something you didn’t already have—an older brother. And your new brother is so thrilled to finally have a brother of his own! God is already beginning to fill in the missing pieces of your life, and ours.

Your picture is on our refrigerator door. Every day I walk past it and I look at you. I pause for a moment before I walk by, and I smile. I smile because of how happy you look in the picture. You are so beautiful. I smile because I imagine your new life with us. But mostly I smile because soon, you will become my son.

The Beauty was in their Faces!

When I travelled to Ethiopia I had one prayer before I left. It was simply this: Lord, show me your beauty in this place. When our group arrived at the airport, we came face to face with some pretty ugly behavior. Men toting automatic weapons demanded that we allow them to search all of our belongings, including our medical supplies. They held us up for hours, and for no reasonable explanation they confiscated much of our needed supplies. They told us we could come back the next day, and if they felt like it, we could get them back.

Driving through the city of Addis Ababa was also glum. I was still praying to see the beauty of God in this place, but the city cried in desperation for help - run down buildings, burnt out cars, roads that needed repair. Anyplace that wasn’t a road seemed to be mud. Not a big fan. The hotel was nice, but it was a constant reminder to me that as Americans in this place, we were the “haves”. A glimpse out my window to the rear of the hotel reminded me that we were surrounded by the “have-nots.”

The next day, the medical clinic was swarming with people in dire need of help. All kinds of ailments and diseases were represented. Our doctors told us that many of the sicknesses could have been cured by a $10 visit to the pharmacist back home. But who had $10 here? Might as well have been $10,000. As a result small ailments become full blown health issues. Where was the beauty in this?

I prayed in earnest for God to show me his beauty. And he answered that prayer! As a part of our “village team,” we began to do daily work at the schools with the children, and we also paid visits to people with HIV and AIDs. The beauty was in their faces. And the beauty was overwhelming. What I had missed before I saw so clearly now. It was if Jesus himself was shining through every smile, every touch, every embrace.

My lesson was well learned. Stop looking for beauty in your surroundings. See it in the people who are all around you. You don’t have to go to a foreign land to see God’s beauty in their faces!