Sunday, December 12, 2010

M

Today he came to the visit.
The eldest brother.
The only one not under the care and protection of the ministry (not for lack of desire on our part).
We saw seeds of bitterness, sprouting resentment, and an ever-more-quickly-growing hardness: a shell of protection from all the rejection.
And it became clear to me that, the person who takes him in, as Rebecca and I did with J., has to be a man.
J. first needed a mother figure, a mother’s love. But M. needs a father. Can’t trust women yet. They have all betrayed him, have never fulfilled what they should’ve done and been. Also, he needs the firmness of male authority.

God, provide!
“The cowering prisoners will soon be set free; they will not die in their dungeon, nor will they lack bread.” (Isaiah 51:14)

Again, I choose to believe this promise that God gave me for M. He is the Lord. In its time, he will do this swiftly. (Is. 60:22)

Love.Hope.Risk.

Today was the Parent Visit. The Monthly Parent Visit. The Christmas Parent Visit.
Emotions were running high. There is an intensity, a tension, that comes along with foster care and the relationship that the children have with their families.
Yesterday afternoon I was going to lie down for a much-needed rest for a little while. The small children were sleeping, and the older girls had some vacation homework to do. I told L., “I’m going to rest. When you finish this section, remember that you need to make a card for your mom. It was her birthday last week.”

I don’t know why I announce my intentions to rest. It seems like whenever I do, it backfires. These kids don’t want me to sleep, or what?

“But why bother if she didn’t even come to the last two visits…” she mumbled.
“She’s your mom and it was her birthday. Besides, she knows that tomorrow is the visit and is going to be there.”
“Are you sure?” she challenged. I couldn’t guarantee her, because her mom spends most of her time on the streets and has little concept of what day it is. But Bibiana saw her recently and the mom did pledge to be at the next visit. “I don’t know why I have to make her a card if she doesn’t even go.”
“I know it hurts, L., but do you know why she said she didn’t go the last two months?” I started, but she was having nothing of it.
The answer, which Bibi had already explained to L. (after the mother told her), is that she’s embarrassed to go without any gift for her pre-teen daughter. Not even a bag of chips. She typically works all day just to pay her daily expenses: her pieza -- the room she stays at, paying a minimal fee per night to have a bed and a place to keep her things -- and a little something to eat. L's mom needs to know that her presence is more important than bringing a gift, but L needs to help her understand by not always asking what she brought.
“I don’t know why you all always have to be like that…” L. covered her ears with her hands to keep from hearing reason. “Fine! I’ll make the card, but if she doesn’t show, I don’t care! Yes, I do care--”
“If she doesn't show up, it will hurt, but it’s important, L.”
Tensions mounted, I sent her to her room to calm down, and went to mine.
We both cried.
Goodbye, nap time.

But after a few minutes I heard her leave to continue with homework, and I kept talking with God, and started reading. At one point I left my room for something and saw her making the birthday card. After re-reading a chapter from a book – one of the times it makes me glad that I pack heavy and bring books – I wrote L. a letter.
I told her how brave she is for making that card, for choosing to love, for choosing to hope, for risking that much. I translated and paraphrased part of Rob Bell’s book, Sex God, where he talks about just that, the risk of loving.

“The story the Bible tells is of a living being who loves and who continues to love even when that love is not returned. A God who refuses to override our freedom, who respects our power to decide whether to reciprocate, a God who lets us make the next move.
Love is handing your heart to someone and taking the risk that they will hand it back because they don’t want it. That’s why it’s such a crushing ache on the inside. We gave away a part of ourselves and it wasn’t wanted. …
Jesus is God coming to us in love. Sheer unadulterated, unfiltered love. Stripped of everything that could get in the way. Naked and vulnerable, hanging on a cross, asking the question, “What will you do with me?” …
The cross is God’s way of saying, “I know what it’s like.” …
This can transform our experience of heartbreak. … If God can continue to risk, then maybe we can too.”

When we love much, when we hope much, it hurts much.
1 Corinthians 13:7 says that love ALWAYS HOPES.
Hopes against hope, against all reason, against all odds, against past mistakes.
That’s why it’s so scary -- so scary to hope, so scary to love. We know that there is a very high probability that we will end up hurt. But Bell also says, “The cross is where we present our wounds to God and say, ‘Here, you take them.’”

I choose hope.

By the way, when we arrived to the visit today, L.’s mom, dad, and older sister were all there waiting for us.
It was still hard for her to visibly express her joy and relief. But sometimes, Hope wins, Faith brings joy, Love is worth it.

"I am not angry."

Sitting by the creek, I asked without words what my problem was;
Both wanted and didn’t want a response.
Hoped that the river’s music would soothe my soul like David’s harp;
That I wouldn’t have to ask the hard questions, nor face the facts.
Knew that when I awoke earlier, I asked a question and received an answer:
What do I need to walk?
What do I need to get rid of in order to walk it?

Idols and idolatry.

I only read Isaiah 27 because that’s where I had left off the last time, but
The Word of God is full of life,
always applicable,
a double-edged sword.

“Sing about a fruitful vineyard:
I, the LORD, watch over it.
I water it continually.
I guard it day and night
So that no one may harm it.

I AM NOT ANGRY.

If only there were briers and thorns confronting me!
I would march against them in battle;
I would set them all on fire.
Or else let them come to me for refuge;
Let them make peasce with me,
Yes, let them make peace with me.

By this then, will Jacob’s guilt be atoned for,
And this will be the FULL FRUITAGE of the removal of his sin:
When he makes all the altar stones
to be like chalk stones crushed to pieces,
no Asherah poles or incense altars
will be left standing.”

One:
GOD IS NOT ANGRY.
I am angry. With myself more than with anyone else. For not being able to live in the present. For not obeying, for my own good. For forgetting again. For having habits that are hard to break.
But God is not angry with me.
I’m not sure what his emotion is… sadness? Wistfulness? Jealous desire?
God is not angry!
Maybe I can forgive myself as well, stop being angry at myself for not being perfect.
Two:
The FULL FRUITAGE of the removal of sin.
In other words: Yes, I’m already forgiven.
But I still have action to take for my atonement to be complete: Getting rid of idols and idolatry.
It would be a lot easier for me if they were physical idols. A statue, a possession…
If I were Hindu, it wouldn’t be easy though. It wasn’t any easier for the Israelites to get rid of their stone altars, because we all truly believe that we NEED our idols.

Thursday, December 9, 2010

I live in the mountains.

I live in the mountains. Beautiful, green mountains that play with the clouds passing by. Within walking distance of a lovely creek, full of boulders and icy water and bordered by trees and moss and flowers. Half-an-hour from a city that is home to more people than live in my entire state of origin, and to which I can easily arrive on public transportation.
I live in the mountains, and I always wanted to live in the mountains. That means some rainy days, which means mud. It means being a bit isolated and maybe feeling out of touch with the rest of the population sometimes. It means amazing views out of my windows.
I live in the mountains, and I want to fully appreciate that. To take advantage of the glory all around me. Today I went to said creek, with the intention of doing nothing other than sitting on a big rock for a while, which I did. (Unfortunately, I have some fears about being alone in nature now... the residual effect of being mugged over a year ago.) I tried to get out to a few different rocks, but wasn't able to, due to the size of the stream after recent rains. I crossed over the log bridge to look for another rock, reached it, and stayed a while.

I live in the mountains and I have a good God. I hope to make more frequent trips to the river, to hear the sound of rushing waters, like the sound of the voice of God. Somedays, like this one, will be when I feel sad. Other days, I hope, will be only to enjoy it and spend time with my Father. To bless his heart and enjoy his presence.