HALLELUJAH!

April has been a terrible month for America. Boston bombings – 282 injuries. Fertilizer plant explosion in Waco, TX – 35 killed, 160 injured. Security guard killed by one of the Boston bombers. It’s been rough here in the good ole US of A, to say the least.

And we’re taking it pretty hard. I can’t even begin to count the number of “this world is sick” “this world is falling apart” “is there any good left in the world?” tweets and statuses I’ve seen. Can you blame people? It has seemed like America is falling apart.

But that’s not true. Bad things are happening because America is full of sin. It’s the truth. But God is here! Good things and miracles ARE happening!

My family experienced their own miracle today. My youngest brother, Quentin, was born with Spina bifida. Simply put, he is mostly paralyzed below the waist. Doctors honestly don’t know for sure if he’ll ever walk. Do you know what he did today?

He walked.

Quentin walked. Just a few steps. Bracing himself on the couch and ottoman on either side. But he walked. And ooooh, was he excited about it. He was ecstatic. He had to show everyone.

From a baby boy that looked like this:

To a 20 month old who’s had two surgeries, wears braces on his ankles, and is determined to everything his older siblings do:

This boy is a miracle. A stubborn, smart, sweet, bossy, amazing miracle. April has been a hard month for America. But it’s not the end. This world isn’t sick. This world is lost, but hope is not.

Miracles are happening. Every day, every hour, every minute. Someone is experiencing a miracle. Hallelujah! God is still here, still present, and still working. It has been a beautiful month for America.

First World What?

First world problems. #firstworldproblems How many times do I see these words on Facebook and Twitter? My iPhone screen cracked. #firstworldproblems My internet isn’t working. #firstworldproblems There isn’t any food I want to eat. #firstworldproblems

I’m sad to say, I’ve posted my share of first world problems. I’ve even used the hashtag a few times before. And why not? We really do have first world problems, it’s an American thing. But do we really need to tweet and Facebook about it? Aren’t there much more things we can focus our time and energy and awareness on? No one cares about your tweet

My brother ate the last pack of s’mores poptarts today and now there’s nothing I want for breakfast. #firstworldproblems

People skip over the tweets. This is not something people actually care about, unless it’s your brother and he wants to laugh at you for getting up too late. But what if – and this is a crazy idea, I know – but what if we tweeted something like this?:

Around 50,000 people died of starvation yesterday. #worldproblems

Or this:

Nearly 2,500 Romanian orphans live in streets and sewers. #secondworldproblems

Or this:

More than 18 million children live on the streets of India. #thirdworldproblems

What was that? Your mom is making you clean your room? Oh my, I’m sure a child in India would love to have a room to clean. Or a mom to tell them to clean it. No, no, you’re right. Keep complaining.

I’m not trying to be rude, or mean, or antagonistic, or anything. I’m just tired. I’m tired of pretending I don’t care that people are starving. I’m tired of trying not to think about all the babies or mommies or sisters or brothers or daddies dying of easily curable diseases that we have vaccines for. I’m tired of hearing people tell me “my heart isn’t for the orphans/Africa/Romania/China/adults/children/trafficked women/abused women.” WHAT?! That doesn’t break your heart and make tears come to your eyes and push you to action? Your iPhone screen means more to you than a women being forced into sex with the fourteenth man this week – and it’s only Tuesday?

I don’t understand anymore. I don’t understand why people aren’t tripping over themselves to help these people. We’re America – aren’t we? Land of the free because we were tired of being oppressed? Land of liberty for all? All meaning… who again? All for Americans or all for all? Does all include the men, women, and children outside of America, or no?

We ended slavery in 1863. At least, we think we did. But I don’t think so. We don’t keep people as slaves anymore (excluding, you know, human trafficking, prostitution, etc.) But we are all slaves. We are slaves to our money. We are slaves to our easy lives. We are slaves to our first world problems. Break free, America! Break your bonds that you love so much. Break them and run. Run to the second and third world problems. Feed the babies. Clothe the children. Vaccinate the mothers. Run and never look back. Love the world and its people like you’ve never loved anything before, and I guarantee you won’t care about your first world problems anymore. Open your heart and your eyes to a joy you won’t find in your solid iPhone screen or s’mores poptarts.

Be Still, My Heart

Heal my heart and make it clean. Open up my eyes to the things unseen. Show me how to love like You have loved me. Break my heart for what breaks yours. Everything I am for Your Kingdom’s cause, as I walk from earth into eternity. [Hosanna – Hillsong United]

Be still, my heart. That’s my motto. My mantra. I chant it to myself some days, while other days I simply let it float across my mind once. Some days my heart does not stop aching; those days need more reminders. Other days are less painful, less full of reminders of why my heart breaks.

What breaks my heart exactly, you ask? Well it’s the same thing that breaks God’s heart – sin, hurt, people turning from Him, children. Oh. That last one. The children. Even that word makes my heart turn in my chest. You know when you get “butterflies” in your stomach, and it flops and flutters? That would be what my heart does when I think of the children. All children, but especially the ones without families, or with broken families. The ones living in deepest poverty, lucky to make it to 18 without ending up in gang or killed. The ones living in the highest riches, unsure of what it truly means to know you because they’ve never been shown love like that. Thinking about those children makes my heart ache. It makes me restless. It makes me want to run and do something, to love on them and show them the love of Christ.

Be still, my heart.

My little Romanians ring in my heart most of all. Oh, how I love those children! Iubesc copii mei romani! I can’t help myself. I just love them so terribly, incredibly, inexpressibly much. Ask anyone who’s been to Romania – the little ones grab onto your heart and they just don’t let go. It doesn’t matter if they’re little angels or seem to be the devil’s minions. You can’t help but love on them, even when you want to smash your forehead into a brick wall (perfectly normal desire, I promise). It’s something about their smiles, about their hugs and their kisses, about their games, about their little gifts. It’s their need to feel love and their desire to give it in return, regardless of the fact that many of them have not seen unconditional love in quite some time, if ever. Oh, how I love and miss them right now.

Be still, my heart.

In debriefing before we leave, they tell us how we’ll feel like “no one understands.” It’s pretty much a constant feeling. How can you understand the love for the orphan if you have never met him? David Platt says it perfectly in his book “Radical” when he says:

“We learned that orphans are easier to ignore before you know their names. They are easier to ignore before you see their faces. It is easier to pretend they’re not real before you hold them in your arms. But once you do, everything changes…”

Be still, my heart.

Patience is my friend. In God’s time, I will return to Romania. I know this. My heart will always ache for the children, but one day, all will be well. As God has promised, He will fulfill. I know that with utmost certainty.

Gray Days are My Favorite

Let me just start this off with today, has not been my day. I’m stressed about school (as always), work (why do they keep putting me on call?), finding a place to live this summer and next semester, getting into the nursing program, what I’m going to do after I graduate (yes, already), Romania, my broken car (it hates me), and the list goes on. My birthday is this weekend, and that’s stressing me out too. How wrong is it to be stressed out by your TWENTIETH birthday? I’m not even old yet!

So where is the best place to turn when everything seems dark and uncertain, and no one knows the answers? Personally, I turn to my Bible. Actually, first I turned to Facebook. Embarrassing, right? I wasn’t really looking for answers, just mindlessly scrolling trying to quiet my mind, when I saw a status by one of my friends. They were stressed out too (fancy that), but their status said something along the lines of God being their provider. Well… There was my answer. So I opened my Bible app on my phone and searched “God is my provider.”

“Great are the works of the Lord; they are pondered by all who delight in him. Glorious and majestic are his deeds, and his righteousness endures forever. He has caused his wonders to be remembered; the Lord is gracious and compassionate. He provides food for those who fear him; he remembers his covenant forever. He has shown his people the power of his works, giving them the lands of other nations. The works of his hands are faithful and just; all his precepts are trustworthy. They are steadfast forever and ever, done in faithfulness and uprightness. He provided redemption for his people; he ordained his covenant forever – holy and awesome is his name.” – Psalm 111: 2-9 [emphasis added]

“Sing to the Lord with thanksgiving; make music to our God on the harp. He covers the sky with clouds; he supplies the earth with rain and makes grass grow on the hills. He provides food for the cattle and for the young ravens when they call. His pleasure is not in the strength of the horse, nor his delight in the legs of a man; the Lord delights in those who fear him, who put their hope in his unfailing love.” – Psalm 147: 7-11 [emphasis added]

I was drawn to those verses by the italicized sections – the Lord provides. The Lord provides. The Lord provides. Over, and over, and over, and over again. He provides for the earth, though it gives nothing to him. He provides for the cattle and birds. He provides food for his people. God fulfills his promises. The Lord provides. Silly me, I had to think to myself, to think that I might not receive the things I need. Now, I know this doesn’t mean I’ll get what I WANT. But if I need someplace to live next year? The Lord will provide it. My broken car? The Lord will provide means to fix it. Nursing school? If I don’t get in, that means the Lord has a different plan. Romania? He will provide a way back. All my needs, all his promises – they will be fulfilled.

I found those verses due to the italicized portions. I was struck by the parts I didn’t italicize. Go on, read them again. What do they say?  The works of the Lord are majestic. Holy is his name. He is faithful. The Lord delights in those who fear him. Oh yes, the often forgotten part. Praise. Praise the Lord. Praise his works. Praise his blessings. Praise your troubles. The Lord will provide, so stop worrying about your needs and instead just PRAISE him. It changes everything, doesn’t it? Those storms don’t seem so large when you realize your God is a whirlwind of power. Those mountains don’t seem so daunting when you realize your God stands above them all.

Actually, if you think about it, it’s ironic. Gray days are my favorite. Rain, snow, clouds… I don’t like sunlight. Give me a gray day over any beautiful sunny one. So why do I hate the gray days of my life? Shouldn’t I be thankful for them too? Actually, I think I’ll try that… Being just as thankful for the gray days of my life as I am for gray weather days.

Well why not?

In case you didn’t know – and if you didn’t, you’ve proooobably been living under a rock – but blogging is the new thing nowadays. Everyone does it. My mom does it, mostly about us kids and adoption. A lady I know through Facebook (no, it’s not sketch, I know she’s a real lady) blogs about depression and raising her kids. My friends studying abroad (what up, Johnny and Amber?) are doing it about their trip. And, most importantly and the reason I started this, my friends in Romania/that visit Romania frequently do it about their lives in Romania.

I’m a writer. Or, at least, I used to be. I love to write. Words are so fun and easy to me. But I don’t like journaling. I like writing where people can read it. I like to break hearts and make people cry with my words, in a non-masochistic way. On top of that, I want to tell people about Romania. I want people to know how it breaks my heart. The thing is, when they ask about it my mind just goes blank and I forget what I need to say. It’s hard to get the words out. And I look like a middle schooler doing their first speech if I write the words out on a piece of paper and carry it with me to read to people when they ask. Which is not ideal.

Enter, the blog. My thoughts on orphans, on Romania, on adoption, on love – for the whole world to see. Do we want that? Well, I don’t know. Might as well try though, eh? By the way, for the last paragraph and a half I’ve had this fear that my senior English teacher from high school would read this and be appalled at the abundance of “be” verbs and poor sentence structure I’ve been using. So in case anyone else picks up on that, don’t judge me for it.

Now, on to why I started this tonight…

Romania has been heavy on my heart tonight. Well, it’s heavy on my heart every day, but tonight has been especially rough. While I was at Encounter, my college age “youth group,” we were worshiping. For me, worship – singing – is a very humbling, emotional experience. Something about singing just makes all my worries drift away and my heart open up, so I was already prepped for an emotional shock. Well, God must have been planning something, because I got one. I reached into my coat pocket to make sure my cell phone was still there (habit), and felt something thin and plastic. So I pulled it out to look. It was a travel Kleenex package – you know, the ones that fold in half and have like five Kleenexes in each pocket? Well, if you don’t know what I’m talking about, that’s not important. It was just trash. There weren’t any Kleenexes left in it. But it shook my heart anyway. Ana – one of the girls in the transition program – had given it to me during church (in Romania). At the time, there were Kleenexes in it. I was sick my first two weeks in Romania, and I could not quit sniffing, so she gave me the whole pack. It was a totally meaningless gesture, but so sweet to me.

Finding that Kleenex broke my heart. All of a sudden, I couldn’t see anyone around me. I missed my girls. I missed my kids. I missed speaking Romanian – well, stumbling over it. I missed Romania. All of a sudden, I was drowning in love. I quickly scrambled in my pockets to see if I had anything else in there, and what do you know? I pulled out two little toys – a hot wheels and a little (creepy looking) plastic girl. Marion and Marius had given them to me on my last day at Peris (the orphanage) when they learned I was going back to America. They were just toys they had on them, but they gave them to me. They wanted me to remember them. They were going to miss me.

It all hit me. Standing there, with the guitar strumming and my heart breaking, it just hit me. I felt the tears hit, and I blinked them back (I hate crying in front of people). I was drowning in love. Was this how God loves us? It had to be. I was drowning, suffocating, with no desire to ever breathe again. Why would you want to swim to the top when falling offered such sanctuary, such hope and joy? It was beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time. Beautiful because I loved those kids more than breathing. Heartbreaking because I missed them just as much.

It was a quick moment. As soon as it hit, it was over and I was snapped back to reality. So now I sit here, left with a feeling of longing as my heart aches to be back in Romania and my arms long to hold my kids. Six months to a year (because I have no idea when I’ll be able to go back) is far, far too long for me. Thankfully, I have a very patient God to help me wait. Until then, be still my heart… Your time will come.