Adoption

adop·tion

 noun \ə-ˈdäp-shən\

: the act or process of adopting a child

: the act or process of beginning to use something new or different

: the act or process of giving official acceptance or approval to something

Adoption has been on my mind for quite a while as I have watched Donny and Melissa move through the process. It's been a long road, emotionally challenging, financially draining, tedious and time-consuming, frustrating and arduous. Has it been worth it? Absolutely!! The Bible has a few things to say about adoption. 

Galatians 4:4-7

4 But when the set time had fully come, God sent His Son, born of a woman, born under the law, 5 to redeem those under the law, that we might receive adoption to sonship.[a] 6 Because you are His sons, God sent the Spirit of His Son into our hearts, the Spirit who calls out, “Abba,[b] Father.” 7 So you are no longer a slave, but God’s child; and since you are His child, God has made you also an heir.

Ephesians 1:4-6

4 For He chose us in Him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in His sight. In love 5 He[a]predestined us for adoption to sonship[b] through Jesus Christ, in accordance with His pleasure and will— 6 to the praise of His glorious grace, which He has freely given us in the One He loves.

Romans 8:14-17

14 For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God. 15 The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship.[a] And by Him we cry, “Abba,[b] Father.” 16 The Spirit Himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children. 17 Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in His sufferings in order that we may also share in His glory.

I've written before about our experience as a family when we met Tammera and eventually took her into our home and then into our hearts as a granddaughter, daughter, sister, and aunt.

 http://mostly-musing.blogspot.com/2012/08/daughters.html

It was partly my experience with loving Tammera that assured me that welcoming Donny and Melissa's future child would never be an issue. Their child has been in my heart for years and there is not one tiny piece of me that thinks of that child as any different than any of my other grandchildren. Their child will be a son or daughter, an heir, "officially accepted, new, different" (Webster's definition), chosen, predestined, redeemed, loved - and their child will KNOW that he/she belongs to them. It has been a difficult road for them but their love for their future child has kept them going. The same was true for Christ. His was a huge burden to bear and yet he sacrificed Himself gladly for our sake.

I sometimes forget that these same adjectives apply to me as God's child. I am also chosen, predestined, loved, an heir. I am a new and different creature in Christ. I am accepted and redeemed. If I can love a child destined to join Donny and Melissa before it is even born, how much more does God love me? It is impossible to understand or grasp the depth of God's infinite love for me. And His Spirit tells me this is true. So awesome. May I live in the knowledge that no matter what, my position is secure in Him and someday, I will share in His glory forever! Amen!

Jenny's 34th Birthday

Tomorrow, Jennifer Alyssa Brown Hanna will turn 34! I thought, in honor of her birthday, it might be fun to take a peek into her little-girl mind. The following is a story she wrote in 2002 about an incident that occurred when she was about six years old. Enjoy!

Curious Eyes
          by Jennifer Hanna, April 2002

"Do you think she's asleep?" Katie asked.
"No. Her eyes are open." Jenny replied.
"Do you think she's a vampire?"
"No. Maybe she got a seizure like Robby's."

          Robby lived down the street. At six months he had been sick with dangerously high fevers. His brain was left damaged by the spinal meningitis and he experienced seizures often. As a result, he always wore a helmet to protect his head when he fell with an oncoming seizure. The girls never noticed that the seizures were abnormal. They only noticed that Robby had them.

"I don't think so," Katie said. "She's not shaking. Maybe her spirit left."
"My mom said when your spirit goes to heaven you are died and we will miss you until we are in heaven too," Jenny said smartly. 
"Do you think she's died?" Katie gasped.
"No. Max's stomach didn't breathe when he was died, remember?"

          Katie nodded. Earlier that summer, Max, the big sheep dog that Jenny's family boarded, had died on the patio. The girls had found him, but not before the flies. Jenny's mother had tried to explain death to them, but Jenny got confused and was sure that Max's spirit lived under her bed. In the mornings she would throw herself out of bed fearing that if she landed near the edge, Max's spirit would bite her ankle.

          Four small eyes continued to look down at little Melissa who lay motionless in front of the T.V. Mary Poppins was on. It was a favorite of the girls. They had once spent hours jumping off the bumper of the old 1974 Plymouth Duster, umbrellas in hand, hoping to jump high enough next time to float to the ground like Mary Poppins. They eventually blamed their floating failure on the bumper. It was too skinny to get a good foothold before the leap.

"Maybe she's ignoring us," Jenny suggested. "Sarah says she's ignoring me sometimes and then she won't look at me."
"Melissa, are you ignoring us?" Katie asked in her high, loud, snotty voice. Melissa said nothing. She continued to lie on her side, her eyes unblinkingly fixed on the chimney sweep dancers.
"That's what Sarah does when she ignores me," Jenny stated, hands on hips. The girls stared down at the listless Melissa, not totally convinced about the process of ignoring.

          Just then, Michael bumped his way into the room. The four small eyes left Melissa in unison and focused on baby Michael, bottle in hand. "Missa wook!" he said proudly pointing a slobbery finger at Melissa. He waddled closer but fell before he reached Melissa. Both girls looked at him, neither making an effort to pick him up before they returned their gaze back to Melissa.

"Maybe we should get Ca Sue," Jenny suggested, giving up on figuring out why her baby sister lay motionless on her side, eyes plastered open.
"MOOOOOM!" Katie yelled, feet planted firm, never making an effort to go find her mother.

          Carole Sue rounded the corner from the kitchen, dishtowel in hand, wiping soap bubbles off her tiny wrists. Her questioning smile turned into a horrible face of shock when she saw Melissa. It made Katie and Jenny jump to attention. Four little eyes became four huge egg eyes as they watched Carole Sue run at Melissa. Her housedress flapped behind her leaving a trail of dish soap sent in her wake. She dove on top of Melissa, her dress slowly settling over the small body until Jenny and Katie could only see Melissa's head and cement white eyes. Carole Sue scooped Melissa up, shook her like a dirty tablecloth, and repeatedly yelled Melissa's name. Jenny and Katie stood shocked by the sudden explosion of commotion. Their feet were glued to the floor, their hands stitched to their thighs. They stood at a slight angle as if the wind from Carole Sue's dress was threatening to blow them over.

          All of a sudden, Melissa jerked to life. Though her eyes had already been open, light sprang into them as though they'd been closed for hours. Melissa looked wide-eyed at Carole Sue in surprise. Carole Sue looked wide-eyed at Melissa in exasperated relief. Katie and Jenny looked wide-eyed at them in confusion. Michael picked his nose. For a few moments no one except Mary Poppins said anything or moved. 

          Finally, realizing that little Melissa had just fallen asleep with her eyes open, Carole Sue began to breathe again. She set Melissa down and stumbled out of the room, drunk with the relief that a young child hadn't died on her living room carpet.

          Jenny and Katie blinked the confusion off in unison and turned their attention over to Michael who was eating the dirt from the base of the fichus tree.

"Do you think he will get the poison from the dirt?" Katie asked. "Mom told me yesterday not to let him eat the purple flower because he'd get the poison." Jenny shrugged as both girls waited to see what the poison would make Michael do.

The Chicken Skeleton

I've been home most of this weekend because I am dog-sitting Jen and Zac's two dogs. Denver, the older one, has stayed with me often. He is a sweet, big boy, and no trouble at all. But for the first time, I also have their new puppy, Digory. He's still quite young and since I don't have a fenced yard, I decided I'd better stick around to make sure he didn't start roaming the countryside of Peachy Canyon.

Yesterday, after changing my sheets, taking Digory for a walk, and doing a few other household chores, it occurred to me that it would be a good day to make some homemade chicken soup that my dad and I could eat later in the week. I knew I had a chicken carcass in my freezer and I had been needing to use it up for some time now. And so it was that I eventually found myself standing at my kitchen sink and picking through the chicken broth, fishing out all the gross skin, fat, and bones of this chicken. It reminded me of something that had occurred years ago.

When my oldest daughter, Sarah, was in Junior High School, she was taking an A.P. Biology class. She came home one day with an interesting assignment. Her job was to get a chicken carcass and somehow reassemble the skeleton. Needless to say, Sarah did not approach this project with enthusiasm! I did my part by buying a whole chicken, boiling it, and then taking all the meat off the bones so that I could make soup with it. As I pulled everything apart I put the bones on paper plates with general labels - "breast", "legs", "wings", etc. I was trying to help her at least have some idea of where stuff went. This was long before we had the internet to Google directions. We let the chicken bones dry out for a few days before beginning the "Humpty Dumpty" marathon.

Sarah was extremely grossed out by the whole idea. After much complaining, she donned my heavy, rubber cleaning gloves. No way was she going to touch a part of a chicken! I had set her up outside on the patio where she labored for the next few hours. You know, a chicken has a million tiny bones! She actually did a pretty good job of it. I remember watching out the windows and laughing so much because she was so obviously disgusted. Her chicken was glued back together and ended up looking like it was kneeling in prayer. She told me that if she wanted extra credit, we could go to the butcher and buy head, neck, and feet pieces. We passed. Later, she was outraged because, after turning in the heinous project, she learned that everyone got the same grade, so long as they did produced a skeleton, no matter how lousy their chicken looked. Neither one of us are sure what she was supposed to learn from all this but I doubt we will ever forget that chicken!

Back to my kitchen sink yesterday. I tend to analyze things, or over-analyze according to my kids, so I was thinking about the pile of tiny bones I had set aside. I could have never put them back together in any semblance of order - no more than I could put my marriage back together, no more than I could undo the mistakes I made as a parent, and so forth. Only God, our Creator, can put the broken and mixed up pieces of our lives back into a functional whole. We think sometimes that there is only one way to do this, just like a chicken leg has one specific place to be on a chicken. However, since God designed us and planned our lives, He has the ability to "reassemble" us in any fashion He desires. I am now single. I didn't think that was what God had intended for me but obviously, it is, for this season of my life. Graciously, He has allowed me to function and even flourish, though my skeleton doesn't look the same as it once did. As always, it comes back to trusting God and His sovereignty. I am merely the bones. He is the soup maker and His soup is always going to taste better than anything I could make on my own!

Jeremiah 29:11

New International Version (NIV)

11 For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

Reflections On A Sinful Life

I have been struck this week by just how screwed up we become when we allow sin to control our lives. Why, you may wonder, am I surprised by this? Maybe it's because I lead a fairly sheltered life. I am surrounded by family and friends that are Christians and the rest of the people in my world are fairly benign - not terribly blatant sinners but "good people" who don't know the Lord.

Sin's control and influence over a person - my dad told me it's called "the depravity of man". It's been a stressful few weeks. I've been dealing with a family member whom I love dearly but who frustrates the crap out of me. (No, it's not Paul!) I have felt trapped, in a way. I want to help him, I want to kick his ass, I want to protect my dad from the heartache of the situation. But through it all, I am almost stunned by the mindset of a person who has lived his life solely for himself for years and years.

I know I am a sinner and I am often keenly aware of my failures as a Christian. In fact, I am so aware that sometimes I feel guilty enough that I miss the joy that is mine as one of God's forgiven. However, to see close up just how someone thinks and acts who truly doesn't understand Christ's redemptive power is astounding! There is a self-centeredness that is all-consuming and yet a person can be completely unaware of it. They might not be maliciously selfish but the end result is still the same. Whether a person is blithely ignorant of their selfishness or simply extremely determined to live their life as they want to, regardless of the pain inflicted on others, they are blinded by sin and have been deceived for so many years by unsound thinking that it almost seems hopeless.

How can God reach through the barrier that Satan has built up around them? Oh, how He loves us!! I was reading the Apostle Paul's account of his conversion in Acts and was struck by how completely deceived he was and how grave his sins were. But when God confronted him, he realized his depravity, repented, and from then on out, he followed Christ. I keep praying that God would confront this family member in such a way that he can't refuse and he can't help but respond to the Holy Spirit. But every time I think things can't get any worse for this guy, they do! I mean, seriously, what does it take? We, as humans, are so stupid!!

It's a bit hard for me to grasp the fact that I am no better than him, no less sinful than anyone else, no more deserving of God's grace than the next schmuck. Anyway, I continue to beg God to have mercy and save him. And at the same time, I am so grateful that I am chosen, set apart, forgiven, blessed, and at peace. Though I sin, I do not struggle with sin as a chosen lifestyle. Better yet, I am not oblivious to all sin (just a few ☺) as some seem to be. I don't mean to sound self-righteous. It's just that when we are aware of God's standards and strive to follow them we are saved from a lot of heartache in this life. God's laws protect us from significant distress. I need to turn this loved one over to the God who loves him more than I ever could and keep on entreating the Lord to send the angels of heaven to surround him with protection until he finally gives up and accepts Christ's saving grace. I want to stand with him, someday, as we meet the Savior face to face in heaven. So glorious!

I Burned Some Pages Today

I have been sick for almost two months and I am finally feeling a bit better so I decided that today was the day I just HAD to clean my room. After all, I was sharing my bed with crushed potato chips and pretzel salt. (Chips were mine, salt was the grandkids'.) I determined to do a very thorough job. I did and I'm thrilled with the results. But sometime during the middle of this process, I came across some papers that I had tucked away several years ago. I read through them one last time and then... I burned them, slowly, one at a time.

You may be wondering why this is significant enough to write about. After all, I enjoy burning stuff as much as the next guy. But these pages were special, in a way, and I'm not sure yet how I feel about their loss. There weren't many - maybe half a dozen - but they spoke of things deep and buried in my heart. There was a letter that I had written Paul shortly before he left me, e-mails between he and I after he left, and several e-mails between he and the girls, also after he left. The emotions expressed in these writings were so raw and gut-wrenching. I knew I had saved these pages and occasionally I had taken them out and read them again, just like I had done today.

I had thought that perhaps the time had come to let go of them. Previously, they had served to remind me of how bad things had been and helped me see how far I had come. They also served to remind me of how deceived and "off" Paul had become during that time in his life. Sometimes, when I would remember our life together, I felt like I was looking at it, at Paul, through rose-colored glasses. I tended to downplay the ugliness that had transpired and think of the good memories. I don't think that is wrong, necessarily. Paul certainly wasn't/isn't all bad and we had a lot of good years together. At least I thought so. But I didn't always see him with a proper perspective and these pages I had written back then had brought some reality to my clouded outlook. I suppose it was sort of a defensive mechanism. It kept me, at times, from throwing caution to the wind and begging him to come back to me.

The fact of the matter is, Paul will always be a part of me. That is how God designed marriage and just because Paul is no longer physically in my presence does not mean that he has been cut out of my heart. This is one of those things that I have to live with much like Donny and Melissa live with infertility or Chris Pickens lives with A.L.S. None of us are spared the pain that this corrupt world brings. However...when Paul first left, I knew I would survive. I knew immediately that it wouldn't kill me. Thankfully, I had enough faith to reassure me of that. But I never planned or imagined that I might be living victoriously through this hardship.

I think that in my mind initially, living victoriously meant God bringing him back to me, restoring our marriage, being one of the few that survived infidelity. But who am I to define what "victorious living" really is? Maybe it means being where I am today - a woman just beginning to grasp the magnitude of God's grace in my life, just beginning to understand the privilege and power that there is in praying for my family (yes, including Paul), just beginning to realize that joy is mine in Christ, regardless of my circumstances. Is my situation any harder, more unique, more distressing or discouraging than yours? NO! We all bear burdens in this life - family members who don't know the Lord, loss and grief, aging parents, aging ourselves, children's heartaches, sinful choices. The list is endless.

I'm encouraged by my "book burning". God is so patient and loving with me, with all of us. He allowed me to keep those reminders for as long as I needed to. But then, He gently allowed me to release the heartache they represented to Him, to let Him deal with it. I am trusting Him that I don't need to be reminded any longer of those dark days. My circumstances haven't changed and I still have much to pray about. But I am just a little closer to realizing the victorious life that is mine to claim as a child of God. And even as I cry through my prayers for all the situations that weigh on me, I feel the blossom of joy blooming inside me, knowing that God has got it all under control!

Signs That I Have Been Really Sick

I haven't had a Goldfish Cracker in 2 weeks.

I have a bag in the other room that is full of $50 worth of chocolate for Christmas treats that I never made and I haven't broken into it. (Yet)

I let Jenny and Zac make all of Christmas Eve dinner. (Fabulous job, by the way.)

I was relatively unconcerned when the first batch of brandy sauce for the bread pudding had to be thrown into the orchard.

I let the kids put together all of Christmas Day dinner, including the famous family lasagna.

I'm using Kleenex from a box that Jenny's puppy chewed and slobbered on because I haven't felt well enough to get up and get a new box.

I haven't enjoyed a glass of wine in 2 weeks.

I let myself be taken to the ER where I was bossed around for 4 hours by Sarah. (Also, a fabulous job.)

I then let myself be babysat by Melissa overnight and all the next day. (A 3rd fabulous job.)

I let the puppy (Jenny's) have the Reader's Digest to chew up rather than get up to find him a doggy toy.

I have a personal bond with the characters on "Modern Family."

I actually had to ask for help. And I had to accept it!

I've spent $300 in co-pays in just one week.

My T.V. is overheated.

I haven't worn earrings in 2 weeks.

I had $10 in Kohl's cash that was expiring in 2 days. I couldn't make it to Kohl's so I ... (gasp) gave it to Sarah!

A Crisis of Faith

I've been sick for almost the whole month of December. Maybe that's it - my excuse for how I'm feeling. Or maybe just because the holidays are still a little hard, now that our family dynamics have changed - Paul gone, my mom too. I want to find some freedom from the burdens that I'm carrying but I can't. For reasons I don't understand I have lost faith to some degree. I didn't recognize it for a long time. But I realize that I have taken on so much anxiety and am assuming so much responsibility for so many things. I've always had that tendency but I had been working hard on that issue. I thought I was doing pretty well. Maybe that's my excuse - I'm tired. Tired of trying to keep it all together, trying to put on a happy face, trying to pretend that it's all good. But there is no excuse. I know that. When I get anxious that means that I am trying to play God, plain and simple. I am not accepting the circumstances that He has allowed in my life. I am not believing that He knows best. I am not claiming what is mine as a child of the King. God, forgive me.

How long have I been procrastinating? How many nights have I watched T.V. until I could no longer keep my eyes open just so I could avoid talking to God about my fears? Again, it didn't feel like a conscience choice. I didn't see what I was doing. And maybe this makes no sense because you haven't avoided God. But I have. Thankfully, God is pointing that out to me. And I am ashamed.

James 1:6-8
"But let him ask in faith without any doubting, for the one who doubts is like the surf of the sea driven and tossed by the wind. For let not that man expect that he will receive anything from the Lord, being a double-minded man, unstable in all his ways."                                          

There are some things that I don't pray about very often and yet they are huge, personal heartaches. They are on my mind almost constantly. So why don't I pray about them constantly? I think because, if I am honest, I don't really believe God is going to change anything. I acknowledge that God could change them, but doubt that He will. Why? The Bible tells me that God longs to bless me. Me! In spite of all my weaknesses, my unspoken doubts and fears, because He loves me, He wants to bless me. Why can't I accept that fully? It's as if I think I still have to pay for my sins. Again - playing God. God wants to favor me but I have to trust Him to do it. I can't do it myself.

Instead of avoiding God because I am doubting, I need to run to Him and confess. I need to remember that I can bring anything to Him without fear, even my weak faith. And it is God, Himself, who will strengthen my faith. I cannot force my faith to grow merely by my own willpower. I am such a slow learner. I know this stuff. And then I set aside what I know. I think that's why I write about it. Not only does it help clarify for me what I'm thinking but it serves as a reminder of what God is teaching me. I'll need reminders often.

So now what? No fireworks going off. No radical, overnight change. I am, though, reassured. God knows me, He chose me, and He will never leave me. He always listens to me and is surprised by nothing. He will lift me out of this dark little hole that I've crawled into if only I ask.

Psalm 34:4
"I sought the Lord, and He answered me, and delivered me from all my fears."

Psalm 62:5-6
"My soul, wait in silence for God only,
For my hope is from Him.
He only is my rock and my salvation,
My stronghold; I shall not be shaken."