Real Sacrifice...

Rare are the days, if ever, have I really felt like we are making a true sacrifice by living in Zambia. 
 We are truly blessed.   We are blessed by wealth beyond understanding.  We are blessed by relationships that are so sweet and true.   We are blessed by the gift of children, and many of them!  We eat very well, and have some to share.  We have access to basic medical care.  We are blessed! 
Today, though, I feel the realness of sacrifice.  The past 3 weeks have been shared with my parents and 2 teenage cousins.  It's always a blessing to be with family.  I'm pretty horrible at communicating (as you've noticed with the terribly neglected blog) with many from home.  However, when they are here, it is sweet. It is nice to have someone come and live in "our" world, and have a better understanding of the way things are here in Zambia: both the beautiful and the difficult.  I've just walked them to the van, where Shane will drive them to Lusaka (6 hours away) to go back to the USA.  I try to keep myself together.  I try not to cry as the big hole left by them is so apparent.  It is difficult to see my kids miss their family.  I try not to think about how life would be if I lived on the piece of land designated for us. I try not to think about how much "life" I've missed, and how much they've missed of mine. I try not to think about how, as much as you try, when you live in 2 completely opposite worlds, it creates a gap... unintentionally of course... in mindset and relationships. 
Watching family drive away through the dust... is sacrifice.  
While I want to lay down and cry for a few hours, the life we know awaits.   The to do lists continue.  The noise is there.  And so is Jesus... and the wonderful life HE has called us to. 

Scorched Soup

The past couple of weeks I feel like I've just been swimming in a current much too strong for me! Sometimes I look at my life, and my desk for that matter, it looks a little messy right now. It's not always that way, but for now it is. And I just start to wonder how God will ever make anything from what I give. And then this is the picture He gave me in real life.  Yesterday my yard was filled with a few boys working and needing tutored. After work, they had some friendly soccer in the yard. I was so proud of myself because I made cabbage soup, one of my kids faves, and had the mess all cleaned up an hour before dinner! Then KG asked to walk to the farm building to but some gooseberries, so off we went. When we walked back in, instead of being greeted with the smell of delicious soup that I had made...it was smelling of something burning!!! Ahhh! Scorched Soup. I moved it to another pot and decided that we could "eat it anyway" and take one for the family budget.  And there I was, so proud I was on top if it...kitchen cleaned an all before dinner time.  Disappointed. 
When it was dinner time, the 4 extra boys were still around. I offered them to stay, but with a stern warning the soup IS NOT GOOD because it is SCORCHED.  They chose to stay, have dinner(at leadt), and take their chances. Haha.  As we, all 10 of us gathered around the table, A prayed "God, thank you that we can all be together and eat. Bless momma Mitzi for making our food." Then, they begin eating. They are and ate. They my littles kept saying, mom it tastes great. The big boys were sharking for any food that was left from the littles. At the end, there was a big pot of nothing left. I asked, "do you really think it is good?" And they all were in agreement! Either they are so sweet to make me feel good about my lack of kitchen ability, or they really like scorched soup!  God can take our burnt up mess, and feed those who have no one looking out for them. He can use what we could throw out, and use it as an opportunity to sit together, laugh, and love each other.  God used my scorched soup, and He will continue to use whatever we make available for him. 

the things we miss...

(ok, ok, I know... what the world? I've decided to rekindle my love for blogging, but right now it's so much work! ha) 
You know, raising children isn't easy. (WHAT? you ask... I'm sure you are surprised)
Raising children from really deep hurts and dark pasts isn't easy. 
Raising children from a perfectly good womb isn't easy. 
it's just not easy. 
But I tell you, I love it.  
The things that I start to grieve that I missed about the "younger" lives of the "big 2": 

Puts into perspective all I want to soak in and remember the times I have with the "little 3".
Lord, restore the years that were stolen.  Lord, help me to not miss what I have now... 

boasting...

"But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me." 2 Cor 12:9

I suppose it is time for some boasting... boasting in my weakness.  I remember a time that I actually thought I had all these great "gifts and talents" that would be used here in Zambia.  I thought I was "gifted" and had something "great" to offer.  *Fast Forward almost 2 years: Now I realize that was SO naive, so arrogant.  Because now... after 2 years of being virtually stripped of any of my own strength, I realize that I'm FULL OF WEAKNESSES.  I'm certain that I've met SO MANY OTHERS who are more qualified than I am.  They are more loving, have better ideas, live a better life, probably would do things right the first time... 
Some days I think "Maybe I could just replace myself with someone who would do it better."  And then I realize, ultimately, God has me RIGHT where HE wants me: utterly dependent upon him.  
There are many days I just have to fall at the feet of Jesus and ask for guidance.  I must ask for help.  I must not believe I have all the answers.  I am not the solver of the problems.  I simply want to be a good conductor of God's love.  I must realize that apart from Him, I am truly and honestly nothing.  I can't be a wife.  I can't be a mother to 5 (plus a few).  I can't love.  I can't see where to go.  I can't give truth.I can't bring healing. Without Him... I can't.  There are so many weaknesses in my own self.  But I will boast in them. I'm unqualified.  But through Him, I'm equipped.  His grace is sufficient and His power is STRONG.  
Now, I only offer what I have through Jesus.  Praying I don't miss... run past... doubt an opportunity to be Jesus... to act like He would... to speak like He would... and to love like He would.... 

Something to give...

When hearing the word "orphan" or "African Child"... people think certain things: "poor" ... "hungry"... "hopeless"... "sick"... etc.  For myself, I've let go of those adjectives and actually, I don't even like referring to our children as "orphans and vulnerable children" because that's really ONE descriptive of a MILLION others about that child.  I see how it can change their mindset, and keep them in a cycle of negative thinking. 
We've been trying very hard to challenge our children with their strengths, with what they can do to give back... rather than just receive.  In my mean mommy voice I sometimes say "Stop thinking 'poor me' and start thinking I'm a blessed, smart, important, child of God who can change the world around me." 
Some of them are getting it. 
Like Shadrick.  He's 10 years old, but about the same size as Zack, who is 6.  When he was born, he was born 3 months early and should have never lived.  Well, that's just not Shadrick.  He's a strong... and determined little boy.  And beyond that, He can read like no other in 4th grade.   But Shadrick has found that they way he can give back is to pray.  Before Shane and I left for the states, Shadrick prayed a prayer to bless Lifesong and our travels.  
Upon our arrival back to Zambia, we learned that a very special friend who writes him often  (probably for their shared love of books) ... named Mrs. Purple... had her husband in a severe car accident.  When Shane told him, he weeped.  (It's Biblical to weep with those who weep... love the heart I see here). Afterwards, he led his class in a prayer for "Mr. Purple".  He continuously prayed for his healing and for Mrs. Purple to be strong.  God is answering his prayers.
For Shadrick, it was learning to think about something other than his own hurts, his own problems, and focus on giving something he could to someone he loves dearly... He could offer his sincere prayers.  And that's what he did.  He didn't sit and think "what can I do from here?"  "I can't do anything to help"... NO!  He knew exactly WHO to go to, and what to do.  He accessed the power of God on behalf of a woman who has touched his life deeply.  

(Shad is on the right of Zack in the orange shirt)

Maybe this is one step in his life where he can see that God hears him, that prayer is powerful, and that he can make a difference! 

He has overcome...

Well, I suppose my goal to "blog more" this year is off to a GREAT start! :/

What I can say is that lately, you'll find me at the feet of Jesus... begging for the redemption of lost years in my 2 older boys life.  Begging for wisdom.  Begging for their salvation. Begging for a deeper knowledge and desire of HIM.  Begging for HIS truth to shine through and be seen by them. Begging for life change.  
I've never stood at the position of the Prodical son's father.  It's a role I'd rather not play. I want to play the role of Mary... or Moses' mother... or Solomons.... is that too much to ask?  ha. (that's a joke people, I know i'm not raising Jesus)
As we are attempting to train in a Godly way... Satan is working... overtime.  He wants more than anything to see our boys fail.  He doesn't want to see them rise above... to break the cycle of deep poverty within their family.  He wants to destroy them through a mindset that is common here and hard to break.   
However, I know the power of my God.  I believe HE is enough.  Pray with me for my 2 boys.  I love them so deeply... 

Home...

I remember leaving my family 18 months ago.  I was standing in the airport and we finally came to the point where there was no turning back.  I could see the dread and aguish in my parents faces.  Finally, what they had prayed for their whole lives was coming true…only they didn’t realize how much it would hurt.  Goodbyes were spoken and I took a deep breath, grabbed the hand of my husband and children (along with an insane amount of luggage) and walked through security.  At that moment, my sight lost them and my eyes fixed on 254 children in Zambia.  From that moment, I haven’t looked back.  Rare have been the days that I found myself longing for anything but the dirt of Zambia. 

2 days ago, my family and I stepped foot onto a plane.  “Home for Christmas,” a nostalgic phrase.  The anticipation around me was just exactly like it should be on Christmas morning.  I had 3 little kids knowing what awaited them on the other side of the trip… and they could barely contain themselves.  I had 2 older children who, with every blink was taking in something new and exciting… and anticipating what things “might be like” upon arrival. I had a husband who dreams of Starbucks… and when his next encounter with one might be. Excitement was high.  Myself, excited… yet contained.  When we finally landed on the ground in Atlanta, pushed ourselves through the various security measures, and saw my parents on the other side… kids went running and Shane and I were still bearing the burden of the luggage. Ha.

For me, excited, yet still contained.  But then it happened.  We pulled into the house, and I stepped out of the car.  My mom rushed inside to turn the Christmas lights on.  When my feet hit the rocks, I smelled “Smoky Mountain Air.”  I walked in to the house, and it smelled as it always does at Christmas time.  I looked around and very few things had changed (with the exception of my stocking position, which is slowly creeping off the edge of the mantel… and with one or 2 more additions I will find myself booted right off).  I was HOME.  Laughter and giggles filled the air, despite our 12:30pm arrival time.  And my mom, as always, took me on the tour to show me where to find exactly what we might need… that her and my grandmother worked so hard to organize.  It took a few minutes.  My mom slipped off to bed.  I finally corralled my children to bed.  I grabbed a book from the book basket.  Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.  It had a .49$ sticker on it.  In the front it read “Brad only” (that’s my brother).  That would explain why there were 2 copies of the book. J I read the story to my littles, and noticed in the background that the fooseball table stopped and I could hear the older boys listening from the loft.  They eventually drifted off to sleep.  I walked through the house and it hit me.  “How have I not missed every single thing about this place?”  “How have I not grieved missing so much of my family’s life?”  “How does my heart not LONG to be here?”  It was the Holy Spirit just whispering to me… “I did that for you.  I covered your heart in peace.  I set your eyes on the things I wanted your heart to follow.  It is only by my GRACE and my STRENGTH that allows you to go.”  And the tears fall.  I miss home so much.  I miss my family so much.  But I haven’t shed one.tear. for “wanting to come home.”  That is God’s grace.   I’m so grateful for God’s grace and protection.  I’m so thankful that we can all step foot inside this home again, and rejoice in what the Lord has done for us.  I’ll be home for Christmas…