The Story of Christ in the Face of a Child

My two oldest children got back from a mission trip to Haiti last week. Seth, my oldest son, took his first mission trip when he was 15. Going to Mexico was a life changing experience for him. He was bitten by the mission bug and has gone on a mission trip every year since. This was Aja's first mission trip. Being in the Navy has made her a well seasoned traveler, but a mission trip to a Haitian orphanage is a different experience. The stories they came back with are such a joy to listen to, but nothing tells the story of Christ like the face of a child.

He captured her heart. Brought to the orphanage just days before they arrived, he was so malnourished he didn't have the strength to cry. Through those with a love for missions, this child went from being passed from stranger to stranger, into the arms of loving adults who will nurture not only his body but his soul. When you give to missions, your money is used to help children like this become all that Christ created them to be.

Kirby is deaf. Funding has been raised for him to receive a hearing implant.
Hopefully he will be coming to the U.S. soon for his surgery

This is the Future of Haiti

These bright faces are the future of Haiti

"Jesus saith unto them, come and dine" John 21:12

Ecclesiastes 4:9
Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour.

Deuteronomy 28:47
Because thou servedst not the LORD thy God with joyfulness, and with gladness of heart, for the abundance of all things;

Psalm 37:7
Rest in the LORD, and wait patiently for him:

Psalm 122:1
I was glad when they said unto me, Let us go into the house of the LORD.

Headed to school

"He ain't heavy, he's my brother"

No longer alone

Proverbs 22:6

Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.

"Be Sweet"

I have always told my kids... "Be Sweet" when I dropped them off at school or when they left to spend the night with a friend. I think all parents want their children to represent them well when they are out of eye shot. A Momma can always give a kid the eye that says 10 times more than anything a man could say with words, but when you're not there.... You just have to keep your fingers crossed and stay close to the phone just in case. So "Be Sweet" has been my official warning, along with "Make good choices". Earlier in the week I took my little Sailor to the doctor. I knew that they would probably have to dope her up before they began her treatment and flashbacks of when she had her wisdom teeth kept running through my head. My husband was bringing her home and she was totally looped out from the medication. He was guiding her up the front steps when the front

door opened. The lady who cleaned the house was there and had seen him walking up the steps. My daughter took one look at her and said... "I don't like you.... You're fired!" with the slurred speech of a drunken sailor. My husband (a man of few words) just smiled and rolled his eyes as he turned her in the direction of her room. So, when the nurse called her back the other day, I stood up, gave my daughter a hug and said... "Be sweet." She just smiled and promised she would try. Later when they called us back, she was curled up on the bed. I sat in the chair beside her bed and began feeding her ice chips. She looked up at me with those sweet little eyes (like she was 8 instead of 28) and said... "Momma, I wasn't ugly." It took me a second to figure out what she was talking about and she must have seen my confusion because she said... "The nurses said I didn't act ugly, I was sweet." Awe, she's still Momma's sweet little girl! No matter where she goes or how old she grows, she will always be Momma's little girl.

Sunday Morning With Wee Ones

I got to play hall monitor this morning in the children's section of church. I watched as harried and tired parents hustled their wee ones to the children's area and with a sigh of relief (or reprieve) they headed to the sanctuary for a "Where the rubber meets the road" sermon that hopefully helped them make it through another week.  Young parents need all the help they can get as they work and try to to be super parents to the precious little bundles of joy God has given them. I watched as one Dad walked toward the area with his hands completely full of his wee one. She clasped on the floor in a heap with a little squeal. Finally he got her to use her two legs and they got in line behind other young parents checking their kids into class. As he stood in line we chatted as his wee one pretended he was a jungle gym, hanging from his pockets, climbing up his leg.  I couldn't help but chuckle as I told him that all too soon his frantic house would fall eerily silent due to the fact that wee ones grow up much faster than we anticipate.  Time certainly seems to fly when you're raising kids and having so much fun you can hardly stand it. I remember Sunday mornings with little ones. I remember being so flustered by the time I got to church, I felt like I needed to walk straight into the sanctuary and hit the alter to pray through before church started. For some reason (maybe it's because I was a bit of control freak where dressing the kids were concerned) my husband never grasped the idea that although boys shirts buttoned in the front, little girls dresses typically buttoned in the back. Nor did he understand the concept that little girls socks needed to be put on in what looked like an inside out fashion so when you turned the cuffs down the lacy side showed. He never did understand the need for a big glob of K-Y Jelly on the top of a bald head so a bow (which matched the dress that buttoned in the back) could be held in place. Yep, I raised my two oldest in the days before giant headbands for baby girls and nurseries with nursery attendants for all ages of children. Back in the day we had the task of keeping our babies and toddlers occupied during service, making sure they didn't disrupt the whole church.  We tried to glean nuggets out of the sermon between juggling our kids, but sometimes we were just proud that we made it there and back home in one piece. When service was over, I felt like I had been mauled by a couple of pit bulls (for some reason my husband never felt that way). Yeah, the sight of harried parents and squealing children brought back all of those delightful memories this morning and as I walked away I realized just thinking about them made me extremely tired.  I suppose that's why God lets you have kids when you are young.  Even with the mauling, the climbing and the projectile vomiting, I still wouldn't trade those memories for a room full of gold. I do so enjoy watching today's young parents fight the good fight and I especially enjoy watching grandparents pitching in, helping out and making the fight a little easier. One little guy passed by me this morning who was the spitting image of his papa and and I don't know.... It just makes me smile. Maybe some day I'll have a little one who is the spitting image of their Lolly.... Oh, won't that be fun!!!!!

What's Next?

The house is quiet this morning. The moon is still bright outside, the sun still in hiding. It definitely feels like fall, I love it. Not so many years ago the house would have been filled with the turmoil of getting children dressed for school, the baby fed and a husband off to work. Things have certainly slowed down with the oldest two children now grown and living their own lives. It's something as a parent that is bittersweet. There is nothing sweeter than the sound of little feet running up and down the stairs in pajamas with the feet in them. Nothing more heartwarming than giggles coming from a darkened room where everyone is suppose to be sleeping, and there's nothing more empty feeling then when those sounds have long left your home. The sound of the daily news now runs in the background of my life along with the pitter patter of not little feet but some honkin big paws. I'm not sure a man can fully understand what it's like for a woman to raise her children and set them on their path to freedom. There's a hole in my heart that won't heal because of their absence. I wouldn't bring them back for anything in the world, because I set in my heart from the start that their independance was something I would embrace with joy and I absolutely do; it's not so much for them that I mourn it's but for myself (selfishness I'm sure). My youngest turns 15 this month. From past experience I know what that means. In a flash he'll be gone too. I'll admit that I struggle with my purpose, my goals and my dreams now that all but one has left the nest. So much time, effort, energy invested... now I'm at a loss of where I go from here. I never really dreamed past my children. Never really made plans past the part where they were raised so here I sit in the early morning hours wondering... what's next?