Love and Power

I was feeling sad about something this weekend. I prayed that today's sermon might solve this particular struggle I was having. It did, at least in part.

I was struggling with the fact that God can seem to hold lightly the lives of orphans: they are starving, are sick, are neglected, are cast aside by almost everyone. Then He chose two of them, had their pictures pop up in my inbox in America and had me fall completely in love. The problem is that I have all the love and absolutely no power. God, on the other hand, has all the power but can seem to have less of the love if one focuses on the circumstances of an orphan. "I just need more power," I thought last night. "Give it to me and by sheer determination I will solve this court date, paper trail, embassy date issue. I need 24 hours."

Today's sermon addressed God's power being stronger than our will. Our pastor asked, "Do you really want it to be up to you?" That's when I realized, what if God did say to me, "Ok. You do it, Marty. This adoption is completely up to you." That would not be good news at all. That would be cause for real panic, as opposed to my frequent but often unfounded panics. (how will we pay for the dentist was one of the latest)

While I cannot solve the issue of orphan suffering in the plan of God (although my first thought is, "See Cross") I did have the issue of power solved for me. I don't want it. It is very clear that God has enough.

"Ah, Lord God! It is you who has made the heavens and the earth by your outstretched arm! Nothing is too hard for you. You show steadfast love to thousands...O great and mighty God, whose name is the Lord of hosts, great in counsel and mighty in deed, whose eyes are open to all the ways of the children of man..." Jeremiah 32:17-19

Hmmmm...

I often imagine sweet times we will have with our children: a little one following Zeke around, the precious look of a baby who has finally recognized her mom, the laughter of siblings playing a game.

After today, I have two new imaginings. My new imaginings are grounded in new first hand facts. And that's a bit unfortunate, though there's nothing quite like a dose of reality every once and awhile.

Here are the two things I now get to ponder: explosive diarrhea and toddlers who spit.

That is so not a Holiday Gap commercial.

Adoption News

There are things happening in our adoption. Lots of things are happening. Blogging about it is always a little tricky. Kids can be assigned to us but not actually be ours. So, please know that as soon as I can give news, I will. Please pray for the safety of 2 children who, God willing, will join our family soon.

How My Family Thinks of Me (really?)

I like to dress "comfortably." That means I could almost be in my pajamas on any given day. Except that I can also go to a place like....Walmart, and look like I at least tried. I've tried to wear dressier clothes to perhaps be a better role model to my children or to fight against the I'm At Home All Day With Zero Adult Contact Wardrobe. However, I find that it is simply frustrating to reach for the errant potty puddle that is underneath and behind the toilet when my jeans don't do the reaching with me. A nice sweater can wreck my well intentioned Cook Indian Flatbread With Levi lesson when the flour and yogurt end up on the front. So most of the time, it's old jeans on a good day; sweatpants every other day. Tshirts, sweatshirts, etc.

It is this habit of dressing that must have caused Joel's comment on Sunday morning before church. I put on 50% of my Talbot's wardrobe: brown pants. I actually bought them last year before a party where I needed "holiday attire." What says Holiday like Talbots? Unfortunately, on Sunday, the Talbot pants were the only decision I had made. I still had on my extra large baggy slept in tshirts, with my Holiday Pants, when Joel looked up from the bed. "Is that what you're wearing to church?"

"Ummmm. These are my pajamas."

"Oh. I just wondered."
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Tonight, Levi was looking at a stack of letters I had printed off. "Whoa! Who wrote all these letters?" he asked.

"I did."

"How did you make your handwriting look like THAT?"

For some reason, it makes me feel better that Levi would credit me with Times 12 font handwriting. Maybe I don't need to dress up after all.

Ouch

So far, our transformation into Tarahumara Indians is going well. Joel ran 2 miles barefoot on the treadmill, has about 6 blisters. I've eaten cabbage for breakfast.

This accomplishment of cabbage for breakfast, has made me look at our Ultra Running Magazine with a sort of spirit of comradery. I look at a description like this: "In the first half of the race, there's a six mile climb up Mt. Fuji that never fails to blow the race apart" and think, "That's not so far out of the realm of possibility." Or this: "Temperatures hit 96 degrees on Saturday...The only respite was for the 100 mile runners who made it through the torrid day and into the cool of the night; they got a reprieve from the heat during the few hours of darkness." Yes to 96 degrees! Yes to 100 miles! Yes to running through the night!

This morning I was trying to get in one last little doze before the breakfast-getting dressed-homeschooling all started. I stretched back to pull my pillow more firmly under my head when I heard a crunching sound and felt a crunching feel in the muscle between my right shoulder blade and backbone. I can't hold the phone between my ear and right shoulder. I can't fully turn my head to the right.

I injured myself.... in bed.

I'm thinking that perhaps the Canadian Death Race in Grande Cache, Alberta may not be for me. This year.