May
06
2013When they snip that umbilical cord and pass you the squalling babe, a part of you that has been growing and depending on you is now loose.
Before that moment, that baby was part of you. You hugged the toilet for a season knowing that tiny being was being formed. You ate well. You rested when you could. And you decorated a nursery. But all those moments lead to the moment with that child is wrapping water logged fingers around your pinky.
And when your newborn locks eyes with you, you understand that all the suffering of carrying this extra person for months was worth it.
After 9 long months you have just birthed a dream knitted together within you by the very hand of God. <— Click to Tweet
I don’t know about you, but I’ve birthed a lot of dreams in my short life. Getting my driver’s licence (don’t laugh… I’m serious!), finishing college, marrying Derek, starting this fledgling photography business, writing the stories God gives are just a few.
But none of these dreams even compare to the three little dreamers running wild in my home.
My three are all 3 and under, so I don’t yet have an inkling as to what dream God placed in their heart to pursue. I know my Aeralind has a soft heart that hates to see others cry. I know my Bronwyn is a natural leader and will do well if she disciplines herself to hear her followers leads. I know that Sedryn delights in service as I watch him run to the dish washer intent on handing me forks while I put things away. But my dreams for them are simple: that they would hear and believe the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and that they would pursue the dream He knitted into their unique hearts.
I think it’s fair to say that I’m not the only one dreaming big dreams for my children. Moms all over this country are teaching their preschoolers to read. Taking their elementary aged children to soccer, gymnastics, scouts, and music lessons. Watching and coaching as their children encounter those tough middle school years. Teaching responsibility by taking privileges and further coaching. Scrimping and saving for that needed college education while their changing diapers.
But what about those moms on the other side of the world. The ones who live on around $1 a day. What are their dreams for their children?
I don’t think they’re any different. When that 9 month gestation is up and the midwife (or neighbor or mom herself) cuddles the squalling babe in her arms, she sees a promise of a unique dream from the Great Dreamer. And she will do whatever she can to help that child grow up to their potential.
She’s not any different than us. And her child is not any different than ours.
She will go without meals to feed her little one: so would you.
She will let herself be attacked to defend her little one: so would you.
She will walk miles to beg to have her child put on the nearest Compassion School’s sponsorship list: so would you.
She will grow callouses on her knees praying for her child to walk the path of Christ: so will you.
The difference is, most of us will never have to do the first three things. But the truth is we are blessed to do the last thing together.
So, mothers, I’m begging you: let those callouses on your knees develop while praying for a mother and child in poverty in addition to your own brood. Give up a few lattes or those new shoes or that mother’s day brunch and give a mother’s dream child a chance to live. Admit that your child doesn’t like soccer, or gymnastics or scouts, or whatever activity you place them in and use that money instead to teach them about poverty by letting them sponsor and write to a real child in poverty.
Teaching our children to give to birth another’s dream is perhaps the best lesson we could hope to teach as moms.
Apr
28
2013I can hardly eat today.
That’s not the usual case. I actually often have to repent of gluttony. But today I’m suffering through another minor stomach bug.
I open a letter from Delsys with a drawing of her wearing a beautiful blue and white dress. She writes that she prays that we stay in good health. I needed that encouragement today. To know that even though my intestines are in turmoil, I will likely be okay. It’s amazing how a 5 year old child in poverty can speak into my heart.
But she writes that she is thankful “for belonging in a family” and asks that we “always pray for her entire family so that God keeps them in good health and that they can be united.”
I’m struck with the brokenness of a prayer request like this from a 5 year old. A five year old who watches families broken by curable diseases such as malaria and who wants to be a nurse so she can heal that hurt and save families.
I know a few five year olds and they want to be things like ballerina’s or stunt motorcyclists or firefighters or mommys. These first world 5 year olds want to seek glory for themselves or become someone they admire, but third world Delsys is on a mission to stop disease from wrecking families. The contrast is stark.
We’re at the store the other day and one of my three year olds is throwing a fit over a toy that we simply cannot afford. The other one pats her on the shoulder: “Don’t cry. You can ask for it for Christmas,” she consoles. A part of me dies of horror in response.
I love gift giving and it’s truly my love language, but things need to change around here. I’m not sure how to enact that change, but I know a few ways to start. Stressing the gospel, reading the word, attending the combating materialism parent class next session, teaching the girls to give, and falling flat on my face in prayer.
Delsys, sweet girl, I’m not sure how we thought we could help you… in truth, we need your perspective more than you need our meager $38 a month.
Dec
07
2012I was on my hands and knees back arched and opening myself wide to give. “I’m crowning”, I cried as my doula shot out of the room to fetch the nurse. I wan’t about to wait any longer to give birth and so I did.
And there he was. Red and new and peaceful lying below me. A new person. I was exhausted.
I was standing at the interesection between 9 months of giving my body to grow a new person and 6 months of sleeplessness and nourishing this little person.
Giving is a labor. Sacrifices are made. Pain follows. But God magnifies the joy.
______________________________________________
We scrape together money and buy the girls and the baby boy shoes that won’t fall apart in 8 weeks time. My adventuresome kids break through cheap shoes like so many toothpicks and their feet grow at a rate of only 1/2-1 shoe size a year. We buy a size up and the investment is worth it not to replace cheap shoes every 3 months. A couple weeks later I slip on my sneakers to go to a workout class. There’s a hole in the toe of my beloved 6 year old Asics.
The in-laws they always send us an open check for Christmas. They ask quietly to be told how we spend it. This year we divide it equally 1/3 for Derek, 1/3 for me, 1/3 for the children. I want a camera body and lens combination that costs 10.6 times the amount I now have. I’m burdened with whether to save or spend it. But I spend the children’s on 3 large gifts and a little people nativity. Toys that will cause laughter and magic while I save for my dream.
I dig through the scrap pile and cut up an old pillow for stuffing. Twin dolls for each girl and a pirate for the boy materialize. Matching cards too. An old set of sheets paired with a new set will rise to make a magical reading/play tent with pillows to go in the girl’s new room.
We sell a server: 1/2 the amount I’d need for my camera. We talk about what we need most: to build the girl’s loft bed, to buy Sedryn his full sized mattress. A one button mouse
and a movable alphabet for my girl who just isn’t responding to my current reading curriculum because it doesn’t match her kinetic learning style. We need a toilet fixed downstairs to move the girls to that room.
Christmas will be magical. The joy of gifts given a true sacrifice for the joy of our little people. Giving is love.
______________________________________________
I wonder aloud to Derek last night if we should have some other children over the Saturday before Christmas. If we should throw a birthday party for “the brave little boy, who was God, but made himself nothing”
. To have the children gather around, hear the story of the Christ child, sing him happy birthday, eat cake, and play. But most importantly to ask the children to give Jesus a birthday present. Ask them to bring some allowance, or the coins in the couch cushion, or their piggy banks. To pool their money and buy a playground for children who have no playground. For children like our Delsys from Compassion international.
To teach the children that giving can hurt in the most beautiful joy filled life-altering way. To teach them that giving is love.
Giving is caring for someone more than yourself.
Nov
15
2012
I’m sitting next to the computer sewing a pillow for my girls’ room. The Out to Sea fabric has a print of the world map on it. The pillow is going to help create a whimsical realm for my girls to sleep and play in.
The screen next to me, it’s open to this tale from the Compassion International Bloggers in Peru. Angie has twin girls too. They’re 9 and they’re with her in Peru.
The doors of their whimsical realm thrown wide open to love.
It’s a just a pillow. Just a blog post for me. Simple things perhaps. But seeds.
Seeds to spread the gospel to the ends of the earth.
Sep
27
2012Ricardo is lying over her on the one bed in their tiny home holding a lizard. Dalsys jars awake. He collapses in a fit of giggles.
“Ricardo! I told you to let her sleep! Get that lizard out of the house.” 11 year old Mirna scolds from their little gas stove.
Ricardo rolls his eyes and waves the lizard in Dalsys’ face while she continues to shriek helpless.
“Ricardo Juan, obey this instant! Mama says you have to obey me when she’s not here.” Ricardo sulks out the open door making faces at Mirna’s turned back.
Dalsys feel simultaneously relieved and disappointed. Relieved that Mirna stood up for her. Disappointed that Mama was already gone. It was Dalsys’ sixth birthday.
Mirna pulled a steaming plate over to the bed. “Feliz cumpleanos, Dalsys.” She whispered kindly. “Mama, had me make your favorite for breakfast: eggs and potatoes. Senor Alvarez needed help harvesting cocoa; he was paying a $1 for the whole day. Mama said she loved you and she’ll wake you when she gets home.” Dalsys sighed.
“Eat up Dalsys. You’ll need to walk to Ingelsia Evangelica Apostoles y Profetas soon. It is a school day.” Mirna gave Delsys a little squeeze and stood up. “Now where has Ricardo gone off to…” Mirna muttered as she pursued her 9 year old brother and the lizard she could hear him crooning to outside.
Dalsys ate her eggs and potatoes, hardly tasting them and wishing that Mama could be home for her birthday. She dressed hurriedly in her uniform and started walking to school early. She didn’t want to walk with Mirna, Ricardo, and his new pet Mr. Curly Tongue. Not on her birthday.
Arriving at Ingelsia Evangelica Apostoles y Profetas, Dalsys was surprised to see a letter, a couple pieces of candy, and a box at her seat.
“Feliz compleanos, Dalsys.” Senora Marguerite greeted her. “You have a gift from your sponsor, and a letter too.” Dalsys smiled and unwrapped the candy. She had never tasted something so sweet. In the box she found a pretty little doll handmade locally by one of the other students mothers. She had never had a doll before. She squeezed it tight.
Senora Marguerite smiled. “We’ll read the letter together at recess. The other students are beginning to arrive.”
“Senora?”
“Yes, Dalsys?”
“Why do you think my sponsor sent this? Why do you think they chose me?”
“Oh, Dalsys. It’s because of Jesus. Because He died for them too. And His love motivates them to love more, too. Because they know that you can do great things when you love Jesus, too.”
Dalsys looked down at the other piece of candy. Could she really do great things for Jesus? She heard Ricardo out in the school yard showing his friend Andres Mr. Curly Tongue. She smiled at her remaining candy: she really could do great things for Jesus. Even forgiveness.
*Blogging here for Compassion International. The prompt was the write as if you were your sponsored child. Dalsys birthday is coming up: in her honor, won’t you consider telling another child in poverty that they can do great things for Jesus?
