Before the blue-green sphere of the world titled on its axis.
Before the Word was spoken and the world created out of nothing.
As Wisdom stood by and watched and the Spirit hovered over the waters, God saw His work and said, “It is good.”
Before the world, before the foundation of the world, He actually chose you, picked you out, set you apart as His own.He foreordained your adoption before anything. Before the world, He thought of you. He had already chosen to form you in your mother’s womb.
He saw you.
He numbered your days.
He created you, lovely, beautiful, adored one to be a sibling of Christ, The King, the Word made flesh who came into the world, leaving His throne to sacrifice Himself for you.
Even as [in His love] He chose us [actually picked us out for Himself as His own] in Christ before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy (consecrated and set apart for Him) and blameless in His sight, even above reproach, before Him in love.
For He foreordained us (destined us, planned in love for us) to be adopted (revealed) as His own children through Jesus Christ, in accordance with the purpose of His will [because it pleased Him and was His kind intent]— Ephesians 1:4,5
Linking up with Kate Motaung and Five Minute Friday!
Hi, thanks for joining me, the Series “Five Things Your Adopted Children Would Like to Tell You” will be back on Monday. If you missed the introduction, you can find it here. Last month, our focus was PLAY and ways to play or use home therapy for free. We’ll have more posts on that in the future, but the theme for the month of June is “Adoption.” Just hitting the pause button here for Five Minute FridayMY mother- in -law ins having a lengthy surgery today, correcting a complication from a previous surgery. My sister is struggling. I am feeling a bit out of sorts and when I feel like this, I just want to give up. this weeks prompt made me stop and think. I have been recording gifts, my thankful list, a habit I started the first time I read Ann Voskamp’s One Thousand Gifts and read it again. And I keep listing gifts. As I pray for those I love, I think on those gifts.
- Watching my son battle it out with Nerf swords in the front yard with a friend and a brother
- Sitting by the campfire alone, all leaned back watching the trees sway in the breeze
- Talking on the back deck with a family fostering to adopt and laughing ( even though the wait is long and they are jumping through fiery hoops)
- talking to my brother states away and knowing he is concerned and wants to help
Knowing ultimately that God has my best interest at heart and he is in control. he is waiting for me to open the gifts he has already given. He is longing for me to come into His presence.
18 And therefore the Lord [earnestly] waits [expecting, looking, and longing] to be gracious to you; and therefore He lifts Himself up, that He may have mercy on you and show loving-kindness to you. For the Lord is a God of justice. Blessed (happy, fortunate, to be envied) are all those who [earnestly] wait for Him, who expect and look and long for Him [for His victory, His favor, His love, His peace, His joy, and His matchless, unbroken companionship] Isaiah 30: 16
Five Minute Friday- Get the word. Set the timer for five minutes. Write. No stopping. No editing. Then link up with others by joining Kate Motaung by clicking on the icon below. Read some posts. Make some friends.
The house is quiet. The dishes are in the sink. The fire is burning hot and bright. My muscles ache. My body is tired. The Legos are back in their bin. The play doh is moist and safe in the container. And it is quiet. I said that . Too quiet. The grandkids are gone. All three of them headed back over the mountains to Maryland with new brother and mom and dad. The visit was long and short at the same time. As we waited this afternoon for mama to be released from the hospital, playing and reading stories, and me, pouring cups of coffee down my throat. I thought, this is what is like to wait for Jesus to visit. We run through the list of things to do. Read the Bible. Pray. Follow the prayer list. Do it again. And do we enjoy the visit? Or do we wish to fast forward to get on to other things. I knew the kids were tired and probably ready to go home. They had been here for two days. But, I was determined to enjoy that last bit of visit even when kids were cranky and I was tired. I read a book and felt those small bodies leaning against me. STOP
Five Minute Friday::When
Instructions: Get the prompt. Set the timer for five minutes and write. Just write. Go to the link up at Kate Motaung’s site here and join. Read and comment. Enrich your Friday with some new friends and ideas!
When I was a tiny girl, all freckled and toe-headed, I sat on the warm sidewalk outside our home and thought, thought, thought about the expanse of the universe until my brain hurt, I couldn’t imagine what was out there in the darkness beyond the planets. It mad me feel miniscule, insignificant and not there.
Like a speck of dust in Horton Hears a Who.
But, that SPECK WASN’T just a SPECK. It wasn’t true.
I shook that feeling off when Mom walked us kids across the street to the park (Anne, Robert and me). I was a child again. WHEN I forgot about my WHO and I enjoyed BEING ME at the same time. I grinned for the photographer and the reporter on this first day of spring and forgot my last name when he needed one for the caption. I wasn’t embarrassed. (I”m sure my momma was when it was on the front page the next day).
I was a child. Enjoying childhood. Enjoying BEING.
WHEN do you enjoy BEING?
Share is the word. Get our your stop watch. Write for five minutes. No stopping. No editing. Go! Sometimes I close my eyes and just type, so that’s an option. Be sure to check out Kate Motaung and the link party here.
The blogosphere has opened up a whole new world to us moms and sisters. We have access to each other and words of encouragement at the drop of a hat. We simply log in and tada- there it is. Words shared. Words lighten our load.
Encourage us when we are weary. To say, “Hey me too”. You are not alone.
As long as we share the real us. It is tempting to be fake super heroes. To pur our best foot forward and say. I have it all together. to say. Look at me. Wish your could get it all together then we could be friends. Maybe go our of a virtual cup of coffee. Then no one gets healing. No one gets a hand up our of the pit.
Share only works if we tell the truth. Not the ugly complaining, whining truth, but the truth that heals. I am suffering. I know what it is like. I have been there. Experience is the cousin of ministering healing . We don’t heal with platitudes or sappy sayings.
I opened the red front door and watched my daughter drive away to her new life. The remains of her wedding littered the front lawn. The huge white canopy. Bright colored fiesta ware with pieces of carrot wedding cake strewn across the tables. Some of the guests moved inside to escape the heat. Children race around the house chasing puppies, happy to be free of the restraints of sitting still and being good.
Send- my children into the world with what? All the years of our lives intertwined. All the days. The hours. the memories. The books read aloud. The discussions. The meals. Day after day. The laundry. The cleaning skills. The organization. The arguments. The days gone wrong weaved into the days gone right.
Was it enough? Yes, It is always enough when Jesus is part of the growing up. We plant seeds. He waters. We watch. We see the growth. We enjoy the harvest. We send it out for others to enjoy and enjoy it ourselves.
Linking up with Five Minute Friday!
Want to read a bit more on the subject of family? Check out Lynn Cowell’s post today- How to Raise Perfect Children
I stood at the end of the tube, waiting. Holding my breath. Then I saw them. Stumbling. Tired. Weary. From the tube of the plane that had carried half of my family. My family. My four new children carried on the wings of a Lot airliner from Poland. Safe sound.
The welcoming committee greeted them with smiles. Brother. Sisters. Cousins. Aunts. Uncles. Friends. All waiting to Welcome them home. A new home. A new beginning. A new family.
Back at home in a hospital was my dear Bud, Step father. Guide. Advisor. A machine pushing breath in and sucking it out. All of us willing him to live. To be healed. Praying. Hourly. Stuffing our belles with food so we couldn’t think about the dying. The word no one wanted to speak. Spirit leaving the body. A shell left behind.
I wonder if his journey was the same. The tube. Faces. Friends. Family. Welcome. Heaven. One family joined on earth. Another rejoined in heaven. Two welcomes in one week. One leaving. Four staying.
Five Minute Friday-Pop on over to Katemotaung.com, get the prompt and write for five minutes. No stopping. No editing. No perfecting.
Put oup the tree. Light the candles. Read the readings. The Word speaks of the Christ child born in Bethlehem.
Fire up the ovens. Roll the dough. Cut with cookie cutters. Bake the Christmas cookies.
Go to mass. Sing Silent night, Holy Night.
Wrap the presents. Hide them in the closet where everyone can find them.
Eat breakfast together and read the Word again. Angels. Shepherds. Glory to God in the highest and peace on earth.
Make a gift. Smile while you work and think of the receiver. Acting liek the Christ child. Giving. Giving.
Gather round the tree. Sing. Carols- more than one verse. Lungs swoosh air in and out making the sounds of preparation for the savior come to earth.
Prepare. Heart. Soul. Mind.
*this is the Christmas of my childhood. The month of December was full of Advent readings and mass, keeping Christmas present secrets from my siblings!
i squealed out of the driveway, late, only to whip it into drive and zoom back down. Left the front lights on. I yanked the keys out and jerked the car door open with my shoulder, “be right back, need to do something!” I yelled over my shoulder while my son asked what he could do to help from the passenger seat. “Nothing! I got this!”
We were on the way to a Thanksgiving feast to celebrate. I was running late and had spent the morning scurrying around trying to get the house perfect for the potential buyers who were touring while we were out.
I got to the first stop sign in our neighborhood and tapped the brake, before I sailed through. Then, I noticed her. My elderly neighbor pushing his walker through soggy grass towards her mail box. I kept going. The ice. I saw the ice. Around the mailbox. She would walk there. I don’t want to stop, Lord, I am in a hurry. I have had a lot on my plate lately.
I jerked the car into reverse. I had noticed. I couldn’t let her get hurt. I could see her, in my mind’s eyes, slipping, shattering bones. My aunt had just fallen and broken her hip the week before. I backed haphazardly and jumped out of the car saying, “I don’t want you to slip! It’s icy out here.”
“I know, they should do something about that! Thank you!”
I handed her the mail and got back in the car.
“You did your good deed for the day, Mom,” my son said.