Foster Caring

“Whoever welcomes one of these children, welcomes Me." ~ Mark 9:37

When the most stable thing in your life has plastic eyes, there's a real problem.

Some kids have it worse, but her home was violent and chaotic.  Mom would serve the meal and dad would ruthlessly criticize.  Kelsie ate in mock oblivion; anything to keep her eyes off their hating faces.  Nothing could drown out the shouting.  Even at six, Kelsie knew "Armageddon" was coming to their house soon.

The night they were “removed,” she and her younger brother Cody were told they wouldn’t be going back home.  Terrified at the thought of Foster Care, Kelsie began mentally preparing herself for how best to protect them from an uncertain future.

That first day in their Foster Home was awkward.  The people tried to make them feel comfortable but she had no idea how they did things.  She was afraid but tried not to be “needy.”

The new family seemed nice enough.  They smiled a lot.  In her world, there’d been no smiles, no gentle eyes, no cheerful looks.

Their other kids seemed fine with two new ‘siblings.’  The family ate and prayed together nightly at a dinner table.  She quickly learned some formal manners and the ‘how-and-why’ of teeth brushing.

At her bioparents’ place they didn’t own many clothes, so they kept wearing the same things every day.  In this home, there were lots of clean shirts and pants and underwear.

These parents showed a genuine interested in what was happening in her world.  They asked to see her homework and if she did well on a test or an assignment, they displayed it proudly on the refrigerator.  No one had really listened to her before.

Tonight they went for Slushies after soccer practice.  When Dad hit a pothole, Cody spilled his cherry drink all over himself . . . and the back seat.  Dad stopped the car and immediately opened the door on Cody’s side.

Kelsie gasped as if there wasn’t enough oxygen in the air.  From deep within the respite of her subconscious, she remembered the ceramic vase she’d accidently knocked from the table . . . the screaming that ensued . . . and the beating her bio dad inflicted.  This could end badly she thought.

Foster Dad looked at Timmy, wiped the mess from his shirt and laughed.  Then he did something strange.  Taking what was left from his own cup, he poured its contents on the seat too.

“Now it’s rainbow flavored,” he said with an impish grin.  “Accidents happen.  We don’t cry over spilt Slushies.”

Kelsie relaxed for the first time in months – she was finally home.

Here’s three quick tips for exceptional parenting: 1) tender (appropriate) touch; 2) unhurried time; and 3) encouraging talk.

Father in Heaven, help make me a better parent.  Help me to understand my children, to listen patiently to what they have to say, and to nurture in them the gifts that You’ve placed.  Let goodness and mercy follow them throughout their lives.  Amen

Sermon Snoozer

“Some people will listen but not understand; look but not really see." ~ Matthew 13:14

Time flowed like molasses at the North Pole.  Adam snuck a casual peak at his cell for the umpteenth time.  A minute had passed since he last checked an hour ago, or so it seemed.  He was witnessing an excrutiatingly slow death in the pulpit.

After a lively worship service, the preacher read Isaiah 6:1-8.  He spent about five minutes setting the scene and explaining background about King Uzziah.  Then he made three points.

First, Isaiah saw God in the temple.  Second, Isaiah heard God in the temple.  And third, (can you guess it?) Isaiah obeyed God in the temple.

Judging by the restlessness and yawns all around him, Adam was not alone in being able to predict each step before the preacher got to it.  They reached the end long before the preacher did.

The problem wasn’t that the Minister had been short on preparation, or that he was insincere.  It was that he was utterly, bone-crushingly predictable.

Adam entered Fellowship Hall literally ‘thanking God’ that this agonizingly, painful ordeal finally ended.  He found his usual group of friends and sat down for the usual post worship service jibber-jabber.  He wasted little time voicing his annoyance.

“I’ve come here for nearly a dozen years,” he began.  “And in that time I’ve heard something like 600 sermons, but for the life of me, I can’t remember a more boring one.  I think I’m wasting my time and the pastors are wasting theirs by giving sermons at all.”

Adam was on a roll; he wasn’t about to stop until others were complaining right along with him.  Charlie, a kindly older gentleman, spoke first.

“I’ve been married for 30 years now.  In that time my wife has cooked some 32,000 meals.  There were some I didn’t really like.  But I know this … they all nourished me and gave me the strength I needed to do my work.  If she hadn’t fed me those meals, I’d be dead today.”

“Likewise,” the wise elder continued.  “If I’d not come to church for nourishment, I’d be spiritually dead today!’

We live in a culture that finds everything boring eventually.  Attention spans are shorter.  We skim, multi-task, and click.  We like, we snap, we tweet, and move on to something else.

But the Gospel is timeless, not entertaining.  It is true, not trendy.  It has depth, not just overnight ratings.  It is God’s word to all of us, told in the story of Jesus.

While sermons will always be boring to someone, Jesus warns us to be careful how we listen.  Perhaps part of the problem is our readiness to hear the Word, and forgetting that it proclaims a divine message.

Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer, may the words from Your mouth and the meditations of Your hear, touch my heart and inspire my spirit.  Through faith, help me see the invisible, hear the inaudible. And believe the incredible!  Amen

Butterflies Are Free

“Happy are those who remain faithful under fire; their reward will be eternal life." ~ James 1:12

Six year old Katy was full of life, energy, and curiosity.  So it wasn’t unusual at all that she found a caterpillar and wanted to keep it.  “Pleeeaze Mommmy, Pleeeaze?” she begged.

Mom saw a great opportunity to teach her young daughter about the butterfly’s lifecycle.  So she gently placed the worm-like insect into a large jar.  Katy gathered fresh plants to eat and a stick for climbing.  To Katy’s enjoyment, it (known now ‘Callie’) grew rapidly.  So fast, that it constantly shed its skin, a process Mom called “molting.”

One day Callie climbed up the stick and started acting weird.  Fearing the worst, Katy immediately summoned her mother.  “Do you think we should take Callie to emergency care?” she asked.

“No honey,” Mom chuckled.  “Looks like Callie’s about ready to form a cocoon.  That’s the stage when she rests and starts changing into a butterfly.”

Katy watched every day, waiting eagerly for the butterfly to emerge.  One day a small hole appeared in the cocoon and the butterfly started struggling to break out.  Callie looked desperate; like she wasn’t making any progress!

So Katy decided to help.  She took a small scissors and made the hole larger.  A butterfly quickly emerged, its wings damp and folded against her body.

She continued to watch it, expecting that any minute Callie’s wings would expand and she’d take flight.  Didn’t happen!  In fact Callie would never fly, spending the rest of her shortened life crawling around with a swollen body and shriveled wings.

A prime teaching moment.

Before a butterfly can emerge from its chrysalis, it must struggle.  Each time it lunges to escape, acids are being removed from its wings.  When Katy innocently broke the chrysalis open, the butterfly began dying from those acids.

In essence, struggle is necessary for a butterfly’s survival. Then in the quiet, when its battle has ended, the butterfly can come out and share its beauty with the world.

We humans aren’t that different.  Sometimes we need to struggle, to rid ourselves of the acids that make up anger, fear and sadness.

It’s even harder watching someone we love struggle.  It could be a spouse competing in the workplace, a child wrestling with schoolwork, a friend crippled by a painful divorce, or a family member battling an incurable disease.

While it is instinctive to want to help (and we often do by giving unsolicited advice), sometimes we must learn to wait; let the process unfold on its own.  If you, or someone you know, is battling to shed their cocoon, keep in mind, true love may require that you allow them to struggle for a season, to gain strength to become that beautiful butterfly.

Lord of creatures big and small, just as a caterpillar struggles to free itself from the cocoon to become a butterfly, teach us that prayer through struggle frees the soul, mind and spirit to Your divine presence and love.  Amen

Spider Persuasion

“God’s plans are better than your plans." ~ Isaiah 55:8

It was Sophie’s first day of high school; the day she’d pined over all summer.  Sleep Zombies had robbed her of a good night’s sleep: she’d stayed up half the night trying to assemble the perfect outfit.  This morning’s headache suggested this wasn’t going to be one of her best days.

She arrived early for her first class.  As others filed in, nobody sat next to her.  The only vacant chair in the room sat empty at Sophie’s side.

Feeling rejected she wondered: Do I look funny?  Scary?  Weird?  Maybe something’s hanging from my nose or I drool and don’t realize it because I lack self-awareness.  Maybe it’s my breath?  What else could keep people sitting next to me she pondered?  The anguish she felt consumed her the rest of the day.

Mom offered sound advice as usual.  “Let others sit down first.  Then make your choice to sit by someone you’d like to get to know better.  Find someone who might be having a bad day, and BE the one to make a friend.”

She always made it sound so easy.

Sophie promised that things would be different this time.  With a prayer in her heart and mounting confidence, she pictured herself with an abundance of friends, and reminded herself that choosing to be positive and self-assured would attract others to like her.

What happened next surprised them both.

Contrary to Mom’s advice, Sophie showed up earlier than most; and out of habit decided to sit in her regular chair on the edge of the room.  As a few of the other students filed in, the pattern threatened to repeat itself.

Just then, she noticed a scary spider crawling up the chair in front of her.  It was black, a little hairy, and the size of a quarter.  Creeped out, she took her folder and tried to push it off.

Instead of removing it from her space, it fell onto Sophie’s lap.  Terrified, she jumped up, shook her pants, and bolted to another spot – right next to a girl she’d like to know better.  Before long, a second girl took the empty chair at her other side.

Admittedly she thought the answer to her prayer would show up in the form of an idea, or an added measure of courage to do or say something witty or inviting.

But this blessing showed up as a spider.

This is the essence of how God sometimes deals with us.  When we ask for things to be better, He creates conditions in our life that move us out of our comfort zone and prepare us to receive the very thing we’re praying for.  Odd how that works!  It’s a God thing.

Dear God, I trust You with all my heart.  Wherever You want me to go, I will go.  Even if it’s not where I’d plan to go.  If I lose my hope, please remind me that Your plans are better than my dreams.  Amen

Blinkers

“You are like light for the whole world." ~ Matthew 5:14

A photo essay sprawled the opposite wall, each snapshot depicting lake scenery: stunning sunscapes, brilliant waterfowl and floral bouquets, idyllic cloud formations.  A small flat screen TV hung in one corner showing mind-numbing commercials.  She was too anxious to read any of the dozen or so paperback books she’d brought on vacation.  Tapping her foot impatiently, her eyes never left the window.

Suddenly there was a quick flicker and crackle of light, too fast for the naked eye.  Dana stole past her Mom who was asleep in front of the television and on bare tiptoes she left the cabin, her nightgown flapping in the breeze.  This is what she’d waited for.

As her eyes adjusted to utter blackness the soft warm glow of a single firefly sliced through the darkness with its sugary light.  It softly buzzed through the blackened air illuminating the sky.  Then came a second, and a third.  Soon hundreds danced as if charmed by the flute of a great magician.

Dana danced among them as if she were inside an ornate Christmas tree.  Twirling faster and faster, she savored the last beauty she'd see until dawn.

The never failed to appear at this time during the summer.  Despite the desperation of this moonless night, she appreciated the darkness.  Without it, who could enjoy the fireflies’ glow?

Its calming presence lets her soul run free.  Her worries silently burned into smoke as the specks of light began to dim; their mating dance of light and love complete for another night.

They never failed to amaze her; always making her world a little brighter.  As Dana made her way back toward the cabin, she thanked God for creating such delightful creatures; little “blinkers” that shined their own light to make the gloomy meadows look like the starry skies above.

She recalled something Robert Fulghum once wrote.  “I’m not the source of light but I can reflect light into the darkest places of this world; into the wickedest places in the hearts of men.”

Lightning bugs inspire Dana to want to share her own light, even if it isn’t that bright and tends to blink now and then.  She doesn’t know how much light she’s absorbed over the years, but Dana won’t keep it hidden under a basket.  She will shine it; she’ll share it.  She’ll use it to bring as much goodness, love, joy, and wisdom into this world as she possibly can.

May you always shine your light as brightly as you can.  May you always share it with others as well.  Remember too that God doesn’t ask you to illuminate the entire planet.  He just wants us to make our little corner of it a bit brighter.

Jesus said, “You are the light of the world.”  In joy, in sorrow, in our certainty, in our searching, in this moment right now … light.  So teach us what that might mean for each of us, O God; for who we are; and how we live: and how we pray.  Amen

The Luckiest Guy on the Planet

“God gave each of you special abilities; use them to help each other." ~ 1 Peter 4:10

Ten year old Danny had reason to be angry.

Five weeks ago he woke up fiery hot.  A purple blotchy rash had started to appear on his body.  He remembered nothing of the next few weeks, missing everything between Father’s Day and the 4^th of July.  He woke again to a shocking certainty.

Patiently, but efficiently, the doctor explained that Danny had developed a very rare but serious bacterial infection known as Necrotizing Fasciitis (Flesh-Eating Disease).  The bacteria quickly invaded his system causing life threatening damage to his lower extremities.

“To save your life,” the doctor stated matter-of-factly, “your legs had to be removed.  Otherwise son, you surely would have died.”

Danny’s gaze fell upon two stumps heavily swathed in thick bandages.  His frustration cresting, Danny snapped that he would have preferred to die than end up with no legs.  “I’m useless,” he snarled.  “What’s the point in keeping me alive?”

Two weeks had passed since that painful realization; 14 days he’d spent refusing to leave his bed or any attempts at therapy.

His parents arranged a visit from Danny’s MLB baseball hero in hopes it would brighten his spirits and encourage him to give rehab a try.

Danny was thrilled at meeting his idol.

The player told the boy, “I want you to get well; let them teach you to walk again.”
Danny replied, “Miguel, if you’ll knock a home run for me today, I’ll learn to walk again.”

Miguel promised.  All the way to the ballpark he felt a deep sense of obligation and even apprehension that he’d not be able to deliver his promise that day.

He didn’t knock one out of the park that day.  He crushed two.

Barely a season later, Miguel was diagnosed with colon cancer and forced to retire as a player.  But on that hot, muggy day he was showered with kind words and numerous gifts.  Forty thousand fans, the governor, the mayor, and many other celebrities paid their respects at the ballpark to one of America’s great heroes.

He accepted the gifts, shook hands with the dignitaries, and waved to the crowd.  Silence fell over the stadium.  Miguel took a deep breath.  Just as he stepped to the mike, Danny, now eleven years old, walked out of the dugout, dropped his crutches, and walked to home plate to hug his hero.

Almost too choked up to speak, Miguel exclaimed: “Today I consider myself the luckiest man on the planet.  I played the game I love for fans I adore.  God made an investment in me with talents to encourage others.  Today, God gave me the blessing of this young boy to inspire me.  To my Savior be the glory!”

Lord, there are so many of us that are hurting, people who need Your love, souls who need Your encouragement.  Help me use the gifts and talents you invested in me to bless them.  Amen

Angel of Mercy

“Blessed are the poor and honest." ~ Proverbs 28:6

Membership in America’s corporate elite comes with not just a hefty compensation package but an abundance of perks.  But Edhi had no bodyguards, personal driver, country club membership or access to a company jet.  He took virtually no salary.

From a small tent offering donated drugs and basic medical care, the Edhi Foundation became a multimillion-dollar enterprise.  Run by himself, his wife Bilquis and their four children, they lived humbly in the same ramshackle building as the organization's offices located in Karachi’s poorest neighborhood.

Motivated by a spiritual quest for justice, Edhi and his team created maternity wards, morgues, orphanages, shelters, and homes for the elderly, picking up where limited government-run services fell short.  All for free.

Bilquis, his spouse and partner, helped build his empire.  She was also the one who secretly sewed a duplicate pair of clothes when one of his only two outfits became too old and raggedy.  “If he found an old hat, he’d save it,” she noted, describing how little her husband spent on himself.

He needed eyeglasses to read but would never buy a pair.  Instead, he’d try on glasses off dead bodies at their morgue until he found a pair he liked.

Edhi might not have spent on himself, but he spent massively on the hundreds of thousands he helped over the years.  The foundation which he started almost six decades ago has an annual budget of nearly $20 million today.  Funding comes entirely from private donations.  He proudly refused any government support.

In a country with a negligible public welfare system Edhi offered cradle-to-grave services.  Some 20,000 people have Edhi registered as a parent or guardian after he and Bilquis began taking in abandoned babies.  They placed cribs outside their offices where unwanted infants could be left, dramatically reducing the practice of throwing unwanted infants in the trash.

The most visible signs of Edhi's foundation around the country are its ambulance fleet; more than 1,500 strong.  They race across the busy streets, sirens blazing picking up dead bodies and transporting the injured to hospitals.  They’re usually the first ones to reach disaster sites, including the many bombings Pakistan suffered during the past decade.  The Edhi Foundation even donated $100,000 to the victims of Hurricane Katrina in 2005.

Up until his death recently at the age of (about) 90, Edhi might have been considered the world's greatest living humanitarian.  He’d suffered for several years with diabetes and kidney failure, even refusing treatment in the U.S.  He preferred to be treated at a public hospital in his own country.  Despite his atheism, there are few men who have done as much good, and made as much a difference to all humanity, than Abdul Sattar Edhi (aka Angel of Mercy).

Lord Jesus, teach me to allow Jesus to enter and possess me so completely that my life, too, may radiate the light and love given by this gentle giant.  Please find a special place in Your Kingdom for such a humble servant.  Amen

Barefoot Reflections

“How clearly the sky and the earth reveal God's glory!" ~ Psalm 19:1

In this small Honduran mountain village, shoeless is the norm.  Barefoot is the only way folks travel around there, the only shoes being worn by the horses.  Children play in parched dirt; the powder settling on their young skin seems the only protection from intense sunlight.  All that play helps prepare them for a difficult life ahead.  Feet must be tough and travel-ready, not sensitive to every little rock on the trail.

As I watched young Jeffery kneel on the concrete church floor in humble prayer beside his mother, his bare feet took me back to a simpler time in my life.  A time when we kicked off our shoes and with a fresh bounce in our stride, took in the first kiss of spring warmth.

As a child, diamonds of dew often greeted us on the fresh morning grass.  Bright-green blades stuck between our toes and tickled our ankles — a reminder that I had an extra dollar in my pocket for mowing the lawn the day before.  Even cutting grass didn’t demand foot protection, because all we had was an old reel-type push mower.

The biggest threat to our feet came from the pesky pinecones littering the yard.  Constantly dropping from the evergreens that graced our lawn, they made for the most time-consuming part of the mowing job.

As the summer wore on, skin that was once so tender gained callouses.  Walking got a little easier with each rising and setting of the sun.  Tough feet helped us endure stubbed toes, thorns, splinters, and bee stings.

Occasionally, the puncture of a rusty nail would require a tetanus shot.  But even the threat of infection wasn’t enough to get us to entertain the idea of wearing shoes.

Without the soreness of my soles there was time to appreciate the fragrance of the air, the sweet fragrance of meadow flowers and buttercups that I’d missed in the winter months.  And how could one possibly claim that the blackbird’s song was not music?

Little did we know that during these memorable childhood summers, we were being brushed by the hand of God through His gift of the earth.  In those marvelous carefree days, we absorbed the soul of the soil through the soles of our feet.

Now that I’m an old man, my going barefoot is limited to inside the house.  Recently, I ventured barefoot out to the mailbox, only to find that each step was an agony from skin that hadn’t been thickened for decades.  But it reminded me that life is not a race.  It’s a walk around the block, a stroll through the park, a trip down the memories of our youth.

Lord Jesus, help me slow down when everything in me is screaming “rush!”  Help me find beauty in the way sunlight refracts through a glass of water, the squishy sound dew on grass makes when I hike through it, or the cute face a kid makes when you listen intently to them.  Amen

Let the Sunrise

"Give thanks to the Lord every morning and your faithfulness every night." ~ Psalm 92: 1-2

Sandra and Max were both in transition.  She, in her newly single mother status, had returned to work and he, in his dual house living arrangement, probably felt much like taffy, pulled in opposite directions and in danger of splitting in two.

Leaving the house for school had become a battle.  Max would delay the pending separation by absorbing himself in everything but dressing.  And Sandra would race around like a drill sergeant barking orders and hollow punitive warnings.  By the time they packed themselves into the car they were emotionally exhausted.

Today was no different.  As they approached their destination, Sandra’s inner critic listed the countless ways she was failing her son.   Late for soccer practice again; two days of dirty dishes stacked in the sink; too tired to read one more bedtime story.  

Fail, fail fail!

Through desperate tears Sandra squinted through the bug splattered windshield.  

It started very subtle, as it was afraid to rise.  Bit by bit, it covered the morning haze with a breathtaking display of radiant colors.  Bright streaks of red, pink, and orange slowly overcame dark hues of the twilight sky.  All the colors blended perfectly into each other.

It was truly showing off, like it wanted her to know that God brushed the earth alive, coloring it with proof that He is infinitely loving and faithful. 

Her inner critic went silent now, replaced by the voice of an unwavering Lord:  “You are loved, Sandra.  You have nothing to fear today; I’m with You.  Feel this . . . feel the sun on your face, child.  That’s Me, reaching down to touch you.”

The past few months seemed to disappear; all the bitterness and the agony she'd been through washed away once the daisy sun finally arrived.  Sandra glanced at her son in the rearview mirror staring out the window apparently willing himself to be anywhere but in his car seat.

“Hey Maxie,” she yelled back.  “How ‘bout we play hooky today.  Maybe we could go to the zoo and see the new penguin chicks.  Or would you rather go to the movie?”

A suddenly animated Max responded quickly.  “If you mean it Mom, it wouldn’t matter where we go as long as we go together.”

“It’s a date then!’ Sandra replied making an illegal u-turn and driving away from all today’s obligations. 

That orb reminds us how small we are, and how vividly gorgeous the world is.  You have to pay attention or you’ll miss some of His more stunning moments tucked into each day.  God is dependable and consistent.  He designed our world to reflect those qualities and wants us to know by observing the consistency of sunrises that we can trust Him unconditionally.

Lord, there’s no such thing as just another sunrise, just another breath, just another maple leaf, just another wisp of cloud, just another snowflake.  Our world’s a miracle, every glorious inch of it, because You are not “just” another God.  Thank You!

Patriots and Adversaries

“Blessed is the nation whose God is the LORD." ~ Psalm 33:12

Travel back in time over nearly 250 years to the first Continental Congress.  Thomas Jefferson, the youngest member of Congress and gifted writer, had been chosen to draft the Declaration of Independence.  John Adams edited the text.  During the process, Jefferson and Adams became fast friends and later, political competitors.  Both sought the Presidency in 1797.

Jefferson finished a close second to Adams in the Electoral College, which, by the rules of the time, made him the new vice president.  Their ideas about policy-making became as distinct as their personalities.  Jefferson was a bit of a libertarian radical for his time, believing the federal government should defer to individual states’ rights.  Adams, a buttoned-down conservative was a firm believer in a strong centralized government.

Jefferson plotted how to bring his political faction back into power in the next presidential election.  Things got ugly fast.

Adams called his rival a “weakling, a lecher, an atheist and a coward.”  Jefferson labelled Adams “a fool, a hypocrite, a criminal and a tyrant.”  Jefferson even hired a “hatchet man” who later served time for his slanderous attacks on Adams.

After an exceptionally bitter campaign, Jefferson emerged victorious, becoming the county’s third President in 1800.  It appeared the former friends would be eternal enemies.

And just a truth persists, so does friendship.  Twelve years after their malicious election, a mutual friend engineered a reconciliation.  The two statesmen began writing letters to each other.  Their correspondence touched on many topics, from reminiscences about their contributions to the young nation's history, to opinions on current political issues, to matters of philosophy and religion, to issues of aging.  Their letters were lighthearted and filled with affection.

As two of the few surviving signers of the Declaration of Independence, they were finally able to see that they had far more in common than any differences they’d once perceived.

After fifteen years of resumed friendship, on July 4, 1826, Jefferson and Adams both died within hours of each other.  Their deaths occurred -- perhaps appropriately -- on the 50^th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence.

Unaware that his friend had died hours earlier, Adams' family later recalled his last spoken words, "Thomas Jefferson survives."

Drifting in and out of consciousness, Jefferson awoke for the last time to ask his aide: “Is it the Fourth, today?”

“Indeed it is,” Mr. Jefferson.  “Today is the Fourth of July.  We owe you and Mr. Adams tremendous thanks.”

There’s a lesson here for our present-day politicians.  There can be strong and completely opposite points of view, hard fought in public and privately, but public benefit can be maintained through disciplined and respectful discourse.

Happy Independence Day!  And please God, bless America!

Almighty God, America needs Your healing touch.  On this day that we celebrate our independence, our politics are torn by uncompromising bitterness.  We ask You for the blessing of hope and forgiveness, that our liberty will thrive for generations.  Amen