He is yours

   It all started with a dream. Like Kevin Costner in the movie Field of Dreams, it was a dream that set me on a life-altering course with radical implications.

   Sitting in a lone rocking chair, the room's sparse furnishings did nothing to diminish my sense of well being. I was at peace, at peace in an unknown country holding an unknown child. As I closed the book I was reading to him, he closed his big brown eyes as he hesistantly laid his dark-skinned head against my chest.

   It was then that I heard the words, the words that would forever change my life.

   He is yours.

   Upon hearing those three simple words, I awoke from my dream.

   Currently I'm about fifty miles from normal. And that's okay; I'm just so tired of normal. Tired of suffocating financially. Tired of self-absorption. Tired of being a spiritual consumer--an observer, not a participant.

   And so after four daughters, three miscarriages, and one emergency complete hysterectomy, I know that our family is not yet complete.

   He is yours.

   Although the dream was a couple of years ago, we know the timing is "now." We have begun the adoption process; we've applied for a young boy from Haiti. Our girls are thrilled and regularly ask, "When is my brother coming home?"

   I know I was created for so much more than the American dream. I no longer desire to live in comfort. I want to participate in what's real, what's lasting, what matters.

   I'm living in a new reality, living an adoption story that will climax when I meet my son face-to-face. I don't know how or even when, but our son will join us for our family will not be complete without him. My heart aches to hold him as I did in my dream, to gaze into his beautiful brown eyes, to discover his uniqueness that God created especially for him. How can you miss someone so much that you've never even met?

   There is a constant echo in the back of my mind, an echo that will ring out for all eternity. He is yours.

Eyes Wide Open

   Who knew eyes could hold so much?

   Eyes desperate and pleading, hopeful and thankful all at the same time. Her walk, though silent, spoke volumes. Although quite young, she moved slowly with a stride that was more struggle than strength, as though every footfall was a step of faith she wasn't sure she had.     

   I have seen but a small part of how the suffering world lives. But what I have seen is enough. I can no longer ignore the suffering or pretend it doesn't exist.
 
   This year I've had to face a hard but beautiful truth: I am no longer content to build a safe, comfortable life for myself where the pros outweigh the cons, where the reality of this world remains a distant phenomenon, a reality that can be ignored if I try hard enough.

   For all the "reality" shows on TV it seems we have lost touch with true reality. The reality is that we live in a world where people are dying before they truly get to live, where multitudes live in an airtight cage of poverty, where over 140 million are labeled "orphan."

   I want to live with my eyes wide open, awake and mindful of the suffering around me and in the world--a world where reality surpasses reason. This is what it means to bear one another's burdens, to lay down your life for your brother, to die to self. 

Suffering is real. And it's all around us. We'll see it--if we're willing to live with our eyes wide open. Are you willing? I am. I hope you'll join me.