My mother has been bothering me for years to write a blog. Every year I have the same answer… “What would I have to say that people would want to read?” I tell her when I have an answer for that question, I will write a blog. I seriously don’t know how people have time to write them. I don’t even have time to take a shower. Literally. It’s a problem. I don’t know how all these women out there write blogs. Not only are they writing blogs, they are writing blogs about all the crafts and food they make. How are they finding time for that? And most of them have more than one child. I only have one, and I need a shower, badly.
Now, I have something to write about. It’s been a long time coming and I stay up at nights thinking about it. I have been waiting for the perfect time, and I realized, there is no perfect time. I have to stop wasting time and do it …now. Four years ago, I went to Africa. Four years ago I made promises to people there that I would not forget them, that I would tell their stories. Four years ago. What have I done in four years?
My mom thought of the title “Before and Africa” and I actually love it. There are a lot of things my mom and I agree on, but usually when she has an idea “for” me, I politely turn her down. But this title struck a chord in me. I thought about all the blogs out there about style and fashion and craftiness and I thought about how my blog would probably be the antithesis of that. Maybe I do always buy the same long sleeved shirts at the GAP every three years when the old ones get holes in them. Maybe I do still have the same tennis shoes I bought for 30 bucks 6 years ago. Maybe I do only get my hair cut once a year. Maybe I am in desperate need of a style makeover, but I think this blog is more of a before and after of my soul. My soul before and now my soul (after) Africa…
So thanks mom, for the title and for recognizing there has been a change in me and that even though I have a hard time finding the words, it’s time to start trying.

Sunday, March 31, 2013

Little boys, Lost boys



After a busy Easter, helping out at church, doing some projects around the house and having dinner with family, I was rocking Max to sleep upstairs and he told me to sing him songs.  His favorites are usually the wheels on the bus, jingle bells, and old macdonald, but tonight he asked me to sing “jesus loves” (Jesus loves me) So I sang it to him. Then there was a pause, really quietly he said, “pray.” So I prayed and he said “amen!” I tucked him in and fell onto the couch, exhausted.  

I turned on 60 Minutes and they were revisiting the story of the “lost boys” of Sudan who had walked over 1,000 miles to Kenya to escape their persecutors.  They were interviewing this one young man who had carried his Bible with him on the whole journey and was planning to take it to America…the interviewer said “you carried this from Ethiopia to here?” He said “Yes,…it’s my life,”  and then his eyes lit up and he said, “I have been called a ‘lost boy’, but I’m not lost from God, I’m lost from my parents.”  I thought about how incredible it is that this boy was orphaned and he still knew he was loved and important to God.

 As we take the next steps towards adoption, I will be praying for the "lost boys and girls' of this world.  Even if they are not in our family, they will know they are not lost to God.  And when we do know who this little boy or girl is, and they make it into our home, I am going to do my best every single day to show them they are not lost to God.   After a long day of Easter festivities, I have a quiet moment with a two year old that is already starting to feel the love of God and I am reminded that I am not lost to God.  This is why He died.  So no one would have to feel lost again. Believing in this great love continues to be the best decision I will ever make and I am so excited to see my kids, hopefully one day, make the decision to be found in Jesus.  Happy Easter.