Knowing Renato

His name is Renato, and he was three years old. His eyes radiated joy, and for my daughter who has spent the last two months in Haiti, he symbolized love as he daily reached his arms to her and said, "Big hug!"

Renato died last night on his way to the hospital, in the arms of his young nurse. Renato was an orphan but is now standing next to his Father, at the throne of God, impoverished no more. Renato's life was not in vain.

When you complain about wait times in your doctor's waiting room, I want you to think about the many Haitian children who die because they don't even have access to simple medical care. When you hug your children at night, remember to count yourselves blessed. When you lift up the handle on your faucet and fill up your glass, think of the millions of people around the world who have no access to clean drinking water. Count your blessings, but don't stop there. Find a mission and commit yourself to contributing to it and praying for it.

Don't feel guilty. Do something.

"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God."
--Matthew 5: 3-9


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All in the Numbers

I have an aversion to numbers, a problem I discovered when in my high school algebra class. Even though I understood geometry quite a bit better, high school was the end of my positive relationship with math. Since then, I have enjoyed posting a number of memes on my social media pages:

The irritation I felt toward numbers didn't end in high school. By the time I reached graduate school, I had to study just enough statistics in order to better understand educational measurement, margins of error, and standard deviations. From there I had to decide whether my master's thesis research would be quantitative or qualitative. Quantitative would have involved collecting data by measurement and then analyzing that data. Qualitative meant exploring human behavior through interviews and observation. I chose quantitative. Just joking.

Numbers followed me to work as well. As I taught high school English for a number of years, I noticed that a gradual shift was happening away from the beauty of literature and creative writing to progress measured by the means of standardized testing. Later, in my marketing work, I learned about ROI, PPC, CPC, all terms related to the number of dollars a business earns or spends. With our farming business, our banker would come out once a year to tally our long, middle, and short-term assets and compare them to our long, middle, and short-term liabilities in an effort to calculate our net worth.

Numbers had become not only a part of my life, but a focus. I had bought into the philosophy that numbers defined me, and unfortunately, through the years I have somehow subscribed to the saying that "If it can't be measured, it doesn't exist." Worth had to be measured.

You see, I weigh myself almost daily, thinking that the number on the scale is an accurate representation of whether I am attractive. On my bad days as a stay at home mom, I sometimes look at my lack of personal income as a failure to contribute to our family's needs. Just as foolishly, I notice way too often how many likes my Facebook status just received. The effect? Many times I have become disgusted with myself because my numbers in various areas of my life don't always add up to what I want them to.

So this morning I did what every Christian should do when faced with a personal dilemma. I looked to my Bible. Surely numbers can't be as important there.

This was the first thing I found:

There you go. A whole book written about numbers. And I thought, you have to be kidding me.

Still, though I am no Bible scholar, I know it well enough to know that the census of the Old Testament and the measurements of the temple and Noah's ark are really not the crux of the Bible message. Nope, the Bible message can more accurately be explained by 5 + 2 ≠ 5,000 but 5 + 2 + J = 5,000. A number of times in the Gospels (Matthew 14, Luke 9, Mark 6, John 6),  we are told the story of the five loaves and two fish and the feeding of the 5,000 people who had been listening to Jesus but were hungry. The disciples asked Jesus how they were supposed to feed the followers, and Jesus took the meager offering of five loaves and two fish, and He made it enough—not just enough, but with some to spare. Now, we can view this as a ridiculous amount of redundancy in the Bible; after all, the story is repeated four times. Better yet, we can see it as something so important that it is repeated four times just to make sure it sticks. What we come with is not enough, but what what we come with plus what Jesus provides is more than enough.

You see, we can keep measuring ourselves with our imaginary yardsticks. We can keep counting. We can keep setting that standard of success just a little bit higher, knowing that the carrot will keep us moving forward. Or we can understand that when we bring what we have, what we have been blessed with, to the table as an offering to our God, He will make up the difference.

That's a whole lot more encouraging than algebra, isn't it?

The Difference

Before adopting Tadesse and Biruk, I felt rather confident in my parenting skills. I am far from the perfect parent. Jerome and I have just taken each day and made the best of it, often making mistakes, apologizing, and starting over. We grew into the parenting thing slowly, coming home a little nervously with each tiny baby, carefully bundling each in the winter, outfitting our house in those ridiculous outlet plugs, and blocking the stairways with baby gates.

As Caleb, Kaylee, and Elijah got older, we gradually took away the safety gear. We taught them how to crawl down the stairs backwards. We even let them get bruises and scrapes along the way, considering it all a part of the learning process. We've been heard to say, "That's the last time he'll make that mistake!"

And now we have Tadesse and Biruk. Now I find myself reading book after book about parenting. I evaluate and reevaluate every decision. I feel myself go into crisis mode for every tantrum, wondering how exactly I should handle this and even contacting child therapist to evaluate the situation and the appropriateness of my reaction —or whether I should be reacting at all. (Since when did my parenting become an exact science, a vocation filled with impending traps and disasters instead of the adventure it was meant to be?)

Perhaps you are wondering why there is such a difference between my biological and adopted kids, and I think this is it: by the time my other children were this age, I felt a certain sturdiness around them. With Tadesse and Biruk, though, I suppose that somewhere inside I still worry that I am going to break them.

Remember that first time you held a newborn baby, when your mom reminded you to support the baby's head, to speak softly, and to sway slowly back and forth? Newborns are physically fragile. My default setting is to assume my Tadesse and Biruk are emotionally fragile. The truth is more likely that they are the strongest of  all my children in some ways. They have faced grief and fears and hunger and want, yet here they are. I so want to give them a perfect life to make up for all that they've experienced, but I can't. Try as I might, our family has its own brand of dysfunction, just as every family does.

At times I lack confidence to just raise them, pray for them, and watch them metamorphose in front of me. Instead, I look for my mistakes to manifest themselves. See that greed for stuff? That's because we gave them too much at Christmas. See how he feels like he doesn't belong? That would be because I left those pre-adoption family photos up too long.

Still, when I went to supper with Biruk tonight, I asked him what he likes about America and about living with us. He said, "People. Houses. Clothes. Shoes. Food. Beds. Mom, Dad, Elijah, Kaylee, Caleb, Tadesse." He doesn't seem to feel like he is lacking anything.

Sometimes (yes, all the time) I over-complicate things. It could be a lack of sleep or a lack of chocolate or a lack of faith. Regardless, it's time for me to let some of this go—to remember that if God brought us to it, He will bring us through it. We cannot quit working at our relationship building, but we can be at peace through the process: watching the unfolding lives before us and remembering constantly to give God thanks.

What I Know

We are in the midst of a difficult week. Behaviors seem illogical and we are often left scratching our heads, trying to make sense of things far beyond our understanding.

I may not know a lot, but here's what I do know:

1. I cannot control someone else's attitude, but I can control my own.

"Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you" (Philippians 4: 8-9).

2. I do not need to own someone else's problems, but I can help when he is ready.

"Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up" (Galatians 6: 9).

3. Prayer is effective.

"Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know"(Jeremiah 33: 3).

4. Worry is not.

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid" (John 14: 27).

5. God is in control.

"Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you" (Deuteronomy 31: 6).

6. God's timing is perfect.

"He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end" (Ecclesiastes 3: 11).

7. I can't expect to know all the answers, but I can rest in knowing that God does. 

"Great is our Lord and mighty in power; His understanding has no limit" (Psalm 147: 5).

8. I must strive to be patient.

"Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer" (Romans 12: 12).

9. My love may not be perfect, but I need to love anyway.

"Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins" (1 Peter 4: 8).

10.  I can find blessings in the little things.

"Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus" (1 Thessalonians 5: 18).

11. I am loved.

"This is how God showed his love among us: He sent His one and only Son into the world that we might live through Him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and His love is made complete in us" (1 John 4: 9-12).

See How We've Changed

Since October 19, 2013, the day we brought Tadesse and Biruk home, our lives have changed more than you can possibly know. Yes, I know you are thinking about the big things: family dynamics, grocery bills, stress.

Today's blog is just a series of pictures of the little ways that life has changed, but the little always adds up to big, doesn't it?

After

My Christmas List

'Tis the season for Christmas lists and Christmas shopping. The older I get, though, the less I want, and unfortunately, the things I do want tend to cost more. (Yes, I'm working on that whole need versus want issue.) So this morning I decided to make a list of what I do not want.

1. I do not want fancy food on fancy dishes. At Christmas I don't care what we eat or how we eat it. I care about whom I am eating with.

Pushing Buttons

One of the struggles we've had since coming home with Tadesse and Biruk is their endless fascination with buttons. We brought an iPad (which we have been continuously thankful for) that they played with on the plane and in the guest house. Their fascination with all things electronic has made us laugh on a number of occasions, including in the O'Hare airport when Tadesse was trying to manipulate the graphics by touching the screen of a huge TV. It has also panicked us, like when he pushed the fire alarm, which someone had the foresight to cover with a clear plastic lid.

Tender Mercies

As usual, I had to have a rough evening before I could experience the blessing of the next day.

Last night I was tired. Lately I've felt like I could sleep 24 hours straight, yet my body only lets me sleep about seven hours, even when I take something like Advil PM to help me sleep. The result of going to bed early is waking up at 3:30 or 4:00 a.m., still feeling exhausted and emotional.

More Than Enough

A dear friend of mine and I have been talking much about excess these past months. We discuss Americans' dependence on stuff while people like those in Ethiopia and Haiti seem so happy with so little.

Then I go out and buy a new pair of Asics because my soles are just starting to show wear. Some people we know take us out to eat, and I order an 8 ounce filet mignon, which costs $33, and that's with no side dishes included. My daughter requests $30 for a class car, and I refuse. (Who in their right mind would spend money on a car just to destroy it, anyway?) And then I buy another $20 book to devour in two days. I am ridiculously fickle.

...And Now, for the Rest of the Story...

In my last blog, I explained my awakening in recognizing that both my husband and my God have my back, so today I'm going to explain how letting some of that baggage go has lightened my load. So as Paul Harvey used to say, "And now, for the rest of the story!"

Here's what's happened since:

1. I quit my job in teaching and reviewed my calling. First, I was a marketing editor for a few years (a job I loved, by the way), and then I decided to stay home. When people ask me to introduce myself, I no longer say, "I'm Tami and a teacher" or "I'm Tami and an editor." Most the time, it's just "I'm Tami," and people think I have this deeply mysterious quality about me. (Okay, that's not true, but it sounds intriguing, doesn't it?) In identifying myself as my career, I took the me out of it, and you know what? I missed the me.

2. My family thinks I'm a new and improved person. I still hate to cook. I wouldn't know what to do if you put me in front of a sewing machine. My garden is still a couple of wilting flowers in an expanse of weedy mulch. (I didn't say I turned into Martha Stewart. Give me a break here.) I do, however, have more patience, more time, and more creativity. I pay attention to the casual conversations instead of trying to multi-task all the time.

 3. I am gaining some guts. Since I have time, last year I took up piano lessons again and this year I started taekwondo. I used to constantly fear looking foolish, and I guess that was pride. Now I'm starting to see that a person may look foolish for a while, but he isn't as foolish as someone who is too scared to try. And did I mention we're adopting??!!

 4. This blog has become more than a casual friend. Sometimes I feel absolutely driven to write, like I'm going throw up words if I don't quickly get them out. (I bet that conjured up some great images.) While we're on the subject of my blog, I apologize if I over share. Someone who loves me once cautioned me to protect myself a little more because people may judge me by the feelings I confess. Here's what I believe: I can't afford not to be vulnerable. First, if you like me, I want you to like me for who I truly am. Second, if my life circumstances or thoughts help you overcome something, then that gives me—and my middle-of-the-night thoughts—purpose. Your encouragement over the past few years has really helped me to continue with this writing. Thanks. Also thanks to my husband who, when I ask if he cares if I share one of our personal conversations, swallows and says "Go ahead" because he, too, hopes it will help someone.

 5. It has helped me step out in faith. My earnings from work were our consistent income, and Jerome's income was of the sometimes-here, sometimes-not variety. It was scary to give that up and quite difficult for me (still) to think of the farming income and lifestyle as ours instead of my husband's, which brings me to number six.

 6. My marriage has improved because we are more of a team. I hit the jackpot when I married this man; I really did. This man has patience with my weaknesses and shouts my strengths louder than anyone I know. He is compassionate and sensitive and strong all at the same time, and he sometimes knows what I'm going to feel even before I feel it. I used to think of his job as "the other woman" and was completely jealous of the time "she" kept him away from me. Now I realize that she is merely a tractor, a field of corn, or an engine with an issue, and I am able hang out with Jerome whenever I want (and he kinda likes it when I do).

7. Finally, I realized that I determine my level of joy. I can be a pessimist or an optimist. I can be a complainer or an uplifter. I can have the can-do attitude or the poor-me attitude. I can choose to love people and life or just see each day as an obstacle to get over. I have to think about this when my attitude heads south or my heart is heavy with painful thoughts. I am choosing contentment.  I am happy to be here. Right here. Right now. And I'm happy you're on the journey with me.

Here and There

My week in Ethiopia has given me much to be thankful about, namely

1. Tap water with pressure. Every day in America—and sometimes twice a day—I am relieved to step in to a steaming shower with water so pressurized that it feels like a massage. We don't recognize that many of the world's people lack clean drinking water, and I saw countless people hauling water who didn't have running water in the house. That's a daily chore in the rural areas of Ethiopia.

2. Toilet paper and sewer systems. Enough said.

Waking Up

Last night the last thing I said to my husband was, "I'm really tired, so don't wake me up in the morning. I'm going to sleep in." Translation: "I want to think I'm going to sleep in. I'll probably be up at 6:00."

Sure enough, at 4:30 a.m. this morning, my eyes popped awake. (When I wake up, I wake up. No groggy stuff. Groggy hits at 3:00 p.m.) After a few moments of stumbling around in the darkness to get dressed, I slid open our squeaky deck screen to step outside and enjoy the sunrise (yes, I had to wait a bit).

My One Thousand Gifts

Inspired by Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts, I've decided to write a detailed list of those everyday things and people for which I give God thanks. This is definitely a list in progress.

1. The way ducks drag their feet through the water right before they land
2. The penetrating heat of the sun's rays on a spring day
3. The sound of nine-year-old feet scampering across my wooden floor
4. Floppy puppy ears

Weathering the Drought

Living in the Midwest, it seems like every casual conversation involves the weather. "What do you think of the heat?" "Dry enough for ya?" "Think we'll get any rain this week?" Worse yet is when I find myself in at a table or in a car with a couple of farmers and hear nothing except tractors, land, or the current repair agenda.