tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65076353268017056522024-03-13T23:14:59.493-07:00Heather Elyse
Some wish to live within the sound of a chapel bell; I wish to run a rescue mission within a yard of hell. -- C.T. Studd.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305918071455739536noreply@blogger.comBlogger26125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507635326801705652.post-67594240396629353672014-11-09T11:40:00.000-08:002014-11-09T11:41:25.993-08:00Dear Broken Hearted...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Dear Broken Hearted,</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">It may be one of those days where you don't want to get out of bed.</span><br />
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<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Crawl out of bed.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">It may be one of those days where your soul feels overwhelmed.</span><br />
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<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">It is well with your soul.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">It may be one of those days where you just feel numb and you are walking around in shock.</span><br />
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<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Force yourself to function.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">It may be one of those days where your mind escapes to another place and your thoughts aren't clear.</span><br />
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<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">You have a sound mind.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">It may be one of those days you are living and acting out of trauma.</span><br />
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<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Recognize the trauma and step out of it.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Your flesh may be curled up in a fetal position weeping, but tell your spirit to rise up.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Your flesh may be wanting to run, but tell your spirit to dance instead.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Your flesh may want to seek revenge, but tell your spirit to forgive.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Your flesh may want to keep hurting today, but tell your spirit you are healed.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Your flesh may want to give up today, but tell your spirit to persevere.</span><br />
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<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: americantypwrteritcw01--731025, americantypwrteritcw02--737091, serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><i><b>Dear God heal the broken hearts today. Let them feel you breathe life into their beating hearts. May their heart beat with yours. May they gently feel your restoring hands go deep inside and repair.</b></i></span><br />
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<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. -Psalm 34:18</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><b>He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. -Psalm 147:3</b></span></span><br />
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<b><i><br style="color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /></i></b><span style="color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305918071455739536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507635326801705652.post-52252400403277584982014-06-18T21:11:00.000-07:002014-07-15T21:14:25.183-07:00The Problem of Prideful Parenting<br />
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<span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">The Problem Of Prideful Parenting</span></div>
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I have a friend who used to come to me in tears, talking about her child who just screams all the time for no reason. I never could quite understand her struggle, at least until I had a child that struggled with the same issue. My child's screaming normally turned into some raging, violent tantrum. I remember calling her on the phone apologizing for not understanding her struggle, not validating her, or truly trying to understand her. I just always thought that maybe she was doing something wrong. I made the ridiculous mistake that so many parents make and passed judgment on her without ever walking a mile in her shoes. </div>
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The fact of the matter is that we as parents haven't walked in each other’s specific shoes, so we have no room to judge each other. I think there is this Prideful Parenting Attitude that we can all get caught up in. For example I used to see children act out in stores and I would pass judgments on them thinking they should do this or that. I was WRONG! I had no right to judge these parents. I had no idea what they were going through with their specific child. I didn't understand the struggle, so I didn't have any business judging.</div>
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The Prideful Parenting Attitude is when we see a child acting out and we think,<span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> "Well if this child was in my home, he or she wouldn't be behaving in such a disgraceful manner"</span>, and we are all guilty of this in some form or fashion. We see an outrageous behavior and naturally we want to fix it or offer suggestions on how to fix it. Many of us just pass on our opinions without truly understanding. We think that if that specific child was in our home they wouldn't be acting out. This is wrong, and here is why. </div>
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I am not called to your children and you are not called to mine. I cannot raise your children better than you. You cannot raise my children better than me…end of story.</div>
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God didn't make a mistake when he placed your children with you and my children with me. So we have no business messing with God's purpose and destiny. </div>
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You are the only one called to your child; therefore you are the one that will be able to figure out how to raise your child the best of your ability.</div>
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No person, government, church, school, or professional can tell you more about your child then you already know. </div>
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I want to encourage all my readers today to make sure you do not get entangled in the trap called the Prideful Parenting Attitude. If you see a parent struggling, pray for them, offer to help them with NO judgments. Instead of criticizing them, encourage them. When thoughts come in and you think a certain child would act differently if they were raised in your home, quench those thoughts and get rid of them. Everyone is called to their own children. Be reassured by this. No one could do the job better and no one has the right to think they can. </div>
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If you have been hurt by others judging your parenting let me reassure your heart right now and encourage you to keep doing the best that you possibly can. Shake off the critics and trust in your parenting ability. If you need help with parenting, seek out that help but do not allow it to condemn you, but rather make you an even better parent. May our goal be to continue to better ourselves in every area of our lives. </div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">“Discipline your son, and he will give you peace, he will bring delight to your soul” – Proverbs 29:17</span></span><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305918071455739536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507635326801705652.post-65266370702042316242014-05-17T16:58:00.000-07:002014-06-12T21:30:44.179-07:00Parental Rights<div style="border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; max-width: 99.9000015258789%; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Parental Rights</span></div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">"The government is not always adept at decision-making, and it really does make a terrible parent.”</span></div>
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<i><a href="http://ja20.com/" target="_blank">-Josh Duggar</a></i></div>
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I cringe every time I hear the term "children's rights." I know most of the organizations that say they are for children's rights are simply trying to protect children from abuse, so I am for this 100%. However, I am also for children having rights when it comes to having the freedom from discrimination on the basis of race, gender, national origin, religion, disability, ethnicity, and other characteristics. I believe they should have equal protection of civil rights. What I can't grasp is how there are so many movements out there that are basically placing the child versus the parent. </div>
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I think of my son who wants to be a Lego-spy-ninja-warrior and who could spend his days playing castle in the bath tub, cuddling with me watching Ninjago movies, and playing Legos and doing mock sword fights. So should a Lego-spy-ninja-warrior who has aspirations of defeating everyone with his karate moves be awarded so many rights by the government? Should my Lego-spy-ninja-warrior be battling me in family court? I will let you answer that for yourself. </div>
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I personally would have to vote a... BIG NO. </div>
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I am not on the bandwagon for "children's rights" when it means placing the child against the parent. If there was a bandwagon that I would get on, it would be the one championing "Parental Rights." </div>
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I mean, if I allowed my kids to make life altering decisions, this could get scary…and fast. </div>
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Yes, we should allow children to think for themselves and our prayer for any of them should be that they turn out better than us and don't make the same mistakes we made. But children need speed limits, guard rails as they journey off into this world to grow and learn. There must be certain boundaries in place, and we as parents need to act as those guard rails to our children, as we raise them to be productive individuals of society. </div>
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I love this quote by<span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;"> <a href="http://www.mikehuckabee.com/" target="_blank">Mike Huckabee</a></span><a href="http://www.mikehuckabee.com/" target="_blank">,</a> whether you support him or not. The man has a great point:</div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">“I know this: I know that mothers and fathers raise better children than governments ever will.” </span></div>
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Another quote from <span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="http://www.electtimdonnelly.com/" target="_blank">Assemblyman Tim Donnelly</a></span> says:</div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">“I think the system itself is flawed and needs to be fundamentally reformed from the ground up.” </span></div>
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I agree with these two statements. The system is flawed and governments were never meant to raise children....end of story. </div>
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Today, parental rights are being stomped on. If you just take a small glimpse at the daily news to see what is happening in our family court system, it is heart wrenching. You have people like <span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="http://justiceforjustina.com/" target="_blank">Lou and Linda Pelletier</a> </span>who took their 15 year old daughter, Justina, to get medical care, and then without any notice she was hijacked by the CPS system. They have been battling for their right to decide medical care for Justina for over a year now. </div>
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You have famous families like <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/05/21/will-smith-jada-pinkett-smith-investigation_n_5366162.html" target="_blank"><u>Will & Jada Smith</u> </a>being harassed by CPS over a picture that THEY DID NOT post. </div>
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You have fathers nationwide fighting to get custody of their children that are being so freely adopted out by the mothers without their consent. </div>
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You have children and young teens testifying against their parents and trying to sue them for outrageous accusations. </div>
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You have families in every state fighting and begging for reunification plans to get their children back, children that were legally kidnapped by a government organization we created, an organization called <u><a href="http://www.fightcps.com/" target="_blank">Child Protective Services.</a></u></div>
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You have grandparents nationwide that are battling the court system trying to get custody of their grand-children, but the courts are giving foster parents more rights than actual blood relatives. </div>
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You have families like me who have dedicated their life to the unwanted, hard to adopt children, who are constantly harassed by the government for our specific parenting styles just because they do not recognize RADS (Reactive Attachment Disorder) as a real issue. </div>
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The government should not be able to tell us how to raise our children. We as parents should have the freedom to decide what is in their best interests. If <span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">J<a href="http://www.duggarfamily.com/" target="_blank">im Bob & Michelle Dugga</a>r</span> want to change all their kids names starting with the Letter "Z", decide to un-school rather than home school them, and make them all wear purple and green and walk in a straight line, then so be it. More power to them! If Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie want to raise their children a certain way with the convictions of their hearts, life experiences, and belief system, then so be it. More power to them! It is not for us to judge other peoples parenting beliefs and styles. </div>
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Parents should have the RIGHT to decide the educational, medical, and disciplinary methods for their children. </div>
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-To spank or not to spank? This should be your right as a parent to decide according to your belief system.</div>
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-To immunize or not immunize? This is your parental Right to decide.</div>
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-To send your kids to public school, private school, home school, or un-school. This is your parental Right. </div>
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-To discipline or not to discipline. This is your parental Right.</div>
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-To have your kids eat organic or not to eat organic. This is your Right.</div>
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-To allow your kids to play video games or not to play. This is your parental Right.</div>
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-To watch TV or ban the television from your home. This is your parental Right.</div>
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-To choose doctors and medicine or go the homeopathic route. This is your parental Right. </div>
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-To allow your child to wear tube tops or wear a parka. This is your Right.</div>
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-To decide whether you attend church or not to attend church. This is your Right.</div>
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I have personally had my parental rights stomped on, and I can say that it hurts deeply. It hurts to have your parenting put on display and criticized, and it hurts all the more when those doing the criticizing have not walked in your shoes. </div>
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So I want to send a huge cyber-hug to all those struggling with your parental rights being stomped on. I understand and am joining you in the fight, praying for all states to recognize our parental rights. For more information on parental rights, and to learn about the Parental Rights Amendment and sign the petition, please visit:</div>
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<span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="http://www.parentalrights.org/" target="_blank">www.parentalrights.org</a></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305918071455739536noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507635326801705652.post-46578066328673351512014-04-22T21:06:00.000-07:002014-06-12T21:07:18.941-07:00The Least of These (Why I Started Adopting)<div style="border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; max-width: 99.9000015258789%; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
The Least Of These</div>
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(Why I Started Adopting)</div>
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I had never planned on adopting. I had never really even heard that much about adopting growing up. My family never spoke about adoption and there was no one in my family who had ventured down the adoption path. I was a preacher/missionary kid, had visited many different countries with my father as he did church planting overseas, and knew there were orphanages and orphans, but for some reason I never fully grasped the fact that there were so many children in need. Back then, adoption seemed unnatural, taking in children that were not your own flesh and blood. In fact, by the time I was in my late teens, I was burned out on children. I had been the neighborhood babysitter starting when I was 12 years old, and got my first job working in a daycare just up the road from our home. By the time I was 15 and was a senior in high school, I was convinced I didn’t want children of my own. My mother and twin brother always told me that I should pray at night for God to bring me seven kids...I vaguely remember this, but they were all too ready to remind me of it when I was 26 and adopting my seventh child. </div>
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I will never forget the day someone dropped off four kids at my dad’s church. I saw several families pick the children apart, trying to decide who will go with which family. One family wanted to take the youngest who was a baby, and another family who had some dream of adopting dark skinned children wanted to take the two middle children. But the oldest was left without a home. No one wanted the oldest child. To this day that sibling group of four got separated and adopted by two separate families, and no one stood up for the oldest child and chose to adopt her. I remember I was only 19 at the time and there was no way I was able to myself. Oh, I definitely tried to adopt her, and she lived with me for a while, but I had every door slammed in my face due to my age and the fact that some of the church families refused to advocate for me. I was only 19 when I agreed to adopt this 10 year old and that was the day I was marked crazy. There was a church meeting, I had shown up early and could hear them all whispering and basically doubting me. I got so mad thinking, “well, if I’m not qualified, then why are you not adopting her!?” One of the families refused to take her because they said she acted like she was the mommy to her youngest sibling. I wanted to vomit. Of course she acted like the mommy; most likely she had to take over that role to her younger siblings. I still weep at the fact I witnessed church families all picking and choosing what kids they would take...kind of like the old song about “which doggy in the window?”. I wish someone would have stood up and said, NO, let’s find a family who is willing to take in all FOUR KIDS. I wish the leadership of the church would have gotten involved and tried to keep the four children together, or better yet, restore them with their birth mother. I was also bothered that no one tried to see if there were any blood relatives that could take the children in. To this day the oldest has been tossed around and I wish I could tell you that this story had a happy ending, but it doesn’t. It’s actually quite tragic. That 10 year old girl is the one that birthed such a deep passion inside of my heart for the vulnerable children and the corruption happening in the adoption world. I witnessed the injustice that took place in her life, and I was moved to action. I still can’t quite wrap my brain around how those Christian families who adopted her siblings refused to adopt her.</div>
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I also thought to myself, where is the birth mother? We are a church! Why is the church not rallying around her? Why do these four children need to be adopted anyway? Why can’t we fight for the birth mother to keep these kids? Let's figure out a way to help the mom get her life back on track, and let's spend our money and resources to make sure that she gets a chance to watch her children grow up. </div>
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Because of this 10 year old girl, I then heard about such a thing called foster care. I was shocked that there were actually waiting children in America. I had lived in such a small Christian bubble that I had no clue about the fact that there was a government shelter filled with children just a few miles down the road from where I lived. I contacted the State of Oklahoma, asking them if I could foster. They told me I was too young and to come back when I was married and out of college. You can read about my fostering journey in a blog called, <span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;"><a dataquery="#blog_99E1C6C7" href="http://www.heatherelyse.com/#!Confessions-of-a-Former-Foster-Parent/cm31/3C76D394-AABC-4124-9D15-97A21F16B895" style="border-bottom-color: blue; border-bottom-style: dotted; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; color: inherit; cursor: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">Confessions of a Former Foster Parent.</a></span></div>
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I still weep at the injustice that took place in my father's church years ago and pray that we can somehow learn and make sure these kinds of injustices don't continue to happen. </div>
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For these reasons, among others, a passion was birthed inside of me and this is why I chose to adopt sibling groups, champion around birth parents, and adopt older children like that little 10 year old girl, that precious soul that no one in God’s house could be bothered to take care of.</div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">"<b>The King will reply, 'Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.' – Matthew 25:40</b></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305918071455739536noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507635326801705652.post-60664988592142210242014-04-09T18:41:00.001-07:002014-04-11T22:56:35.355-07:00Dear Fellow Missionary -An Open Plea<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yS0I-lB3Azk/U0X2mzcxi3I/AAAAAAAACYc/zHUfar8Vxc0/s1600/IMG_1806.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yS0I-lB3Azk/U0X2mzcxi3I/AAAAAAAACYc/zHUfar8Vxc0/s1600/IMG_1806.JPG" height="315" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Dear Fellow Missionary,</span></span></div>
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<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">You and I have never met. Let me say that again. You and I have never met. Let’s say it one more time so you truly understand…we have never met. I couldn’t pick you out in a crowd. I do not know you! Even though we have never met, you claim to know so much about me. You cast aspersions on my integrity and encourage doubts about the ministries to which I am attached. Your blog and Facebook comments are filled with negative remarks about me. You spread gossip and you slander my name to your readers, hinting at my misdeeds without offering explanation or evidence to substantiate your claims.</span></span></div>
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<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I have sat back, silently, watching as my name and reputation were drug through the mud. I have listened as the integrity of organizations that I am attached to have not only been questioned, but also slandered and degraded. I have been falsely and baselessly accused over and over and over again. Now, through your influence, other missionaries who have never met me are questioning me. I can no longer go anywhere in Haiti without hearing rumors, whispers, and lies.</span></span></div>
<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">But please know this, I am not going anywhere. I am determined to stand my ground. I have chosen to count it all joy to have my reputation destroyed. My reputation is of no account to me. It is Christ whom I serve. I am ok with being disliked, misunderstood, and even hated. I gladly lay my reputation at the feet of the One who suffered shame and abuse and condemnation for me.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Over these last few months I have sought to do just this and respond with grace to these attacks:</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">When you and your friends persecuted me- I turned my cheek.“To one who strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also…</span></span></div>
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<li style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div class="font_8" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">When you and your friends took my shirt- I offered my coat. “…and from one who takes away your cloak do not withhold your tunic either.” Luke 6:29</span></span></div>
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<li style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div class="font_8" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">When you bore false witness against me- I forgave. “But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you…” Matthew 5:44</span></span></div>
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<li style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div class="font_8" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">When you raided the Giving Hope Rescue Mission crèche and falsely caused the arrest of an innocent man- I stayed silent. “Remember the word that I said to you: ‘A servant is not greater than his master.’ If they persecuted me, they will also persecute you.” John 15:20</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">When you slandered me in front of my missionaries and staff and had the crèche’s children in tears as they watched their “papa” (the Haitian crèche director) drug off in handcuffs- I stayed silent. “Yes, and everyone who wants to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will suffer persecution.” 2 Timothy 3:12</span></span></div>
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<li style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div class="font_8" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">When you trespassed into my personal apartment at Club Indigo and removed a crèche child in front of my children- I stayed silent. “Make sure that nobody pays back wrong for wrong, but always strive to do what is good for each other and for everyone else.” 1 Thessalonians 5:15</span></span></div>
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<li style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div class="font_8" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">When you harbored this child in your home- a child whom we have loved and raised for almost two years- I stayed silent. “Finally, brothers, rejoice. Aim for restoration, comfort one another, agree with one another, live in peace; and the God of love and peace will be with you.” 2 Corinthians 13:11</span></span></div>
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<li style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div class="font_8" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">When you threw around the words “investigation” and “trafficking” at Club Indigo, causing our missionaries to be evicted and costing us thousands of dollars- I stayed silent. “Do not repay evil for evil or reviling for reviling, but on the contrary, bless, for to this you were called…” 1 Peter 3:9</span></span></div>
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<li style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div class="font_8" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">When you called me a pathological liar- I stayed silent.“Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account.” Matthew 5:11</span></span></div>
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<li style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div class="font_8" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">When you claimed the child never had HIV and didn’t find healing through antivirals and God’s grace- I stayed silent. “Share in suffering as a good soldier of Christ Jesus.” 2 Timothy 2:3</span></span></div>
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<li style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div class="font_8" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">When you called me unethical and dismissed and demonized the work I have given my life and heart to do- I stayed silent. “They repay me evil for the good I have done; though I have tried to do good to them, they hurl accusations at me.” Psalm 38:20</span></span></div>
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<li style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div class="font_8" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">When you and your friends sent letters to my own staff actually calling me a sociopath and comparing me to Charles Manson- I stayed silent. “Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all. If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.” Romans 12:17-18</span></span></div>
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<li style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div class="font_8" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">When you falsely reported me, belittled me, and called my motives and my heart into question- I stayed silent. “They repay me evil for good and leave me like one bereaved.” Psalm 35:12</span></span></div>
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<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">But now your accusations and slander are no longer merely impacting me. If it were only my reputation and future on the line, I could still stay silent. If the only cost of your words and actions were more shame and sorrow for me, I wouldn’t say a word. But now things have changed. Now your slander and actions have impacted my adoptive parents and their adoptions, threatening the futures of precious families. I simply cannot stay silent anymore!</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Today I am choosing to speak up. Please understand, I do not do this to destroy you, but to seek reconciliation. To date you have ignored my emails requesting an opportunity to talk and reconcile, so now I would like to make that request public.</span></span></div>
<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I have thrown my sword on the ground and I will not be moved. My armor is on and there is an army standing alongside of me ready to defend these adoptions and these vulnerable children.“Give justice to the weak and the fatherless; maintain the right of the afflicted and the destitute.” Psalm 82:3</span></span></div>
<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
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<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">My fellow missionary, on your blog you speak much about the challenges in Haiti, but let me make this quite clear: It is you and I that are the problem!</span></span></div>
<ul class="font_8" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; list-style-image: initial; list-style-position: initial; margin: 0px 0px 0px 0.5em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1.3em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<li style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div class="font_8" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Yes, Haiti is poor.</span></span></div>
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<li style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div class="font_8" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Yes, education is needed.</span></span></div>
</li>
<li style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div class="font_8" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Yes, there is an orphan crisis.</span></span></div>
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<li style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div class="font_8" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Yes, there is corruption.</span></span></div>
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<li style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div class="font_8" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Yes, there are environmental issues and health issues and employment issues and international issues…</span></span></div>
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<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
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<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">But the truth of the matter is that we are the problem!</span></span></div>
<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
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<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">No wonder so many people don’t want to set foot into church buildings. No wonder so many people don’t want to get involved in ministries. No wonder the word “missionary” often carries a bad connotation and that Christianity often has so little impact and carries so little weight.</span></span></div>
<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
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<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Yes, my fellow missionary, I realize that if we did meet, we probably wouldn’t see eye to eye. Yes, we are very different.</span></span></div>
<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
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<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">But please remember this, we have the most important thing on earth in common. You and I serve the same God! We are brothers and sisters under the same King. “So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God…” Ephesians 2:19</span></span></div>
<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
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<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Yes, you have been serving longer in Haiti than I have and yes, we are from two different generations, but why didn’t you use that wisdom and experience to reach out to me? Why didn’t you seek to discover what was really going on and meet me face to face before you passed judgment? Why didn’t you take me under your wing and seek to pour into me instead of sneaking behind my back, slandering without evidence and accusing without facts? My brother and sister, this should not be!</span></span></div>
<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
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<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">“Finally, all of you, have unity of mind, sympathy, brotherly love, a tender heart, and a humble mind.” 1 Peter 3:8</span></span></div>
<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
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<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">You say you seek justice, but sadly justice here in Haiti often only exists for those who have the most money and influence. I am not interested in such pseudo-justice. I seek what God has to say about justice. I seek His justice.</span></span></div>
<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
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<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">“The Lord works righteousness and justice for all who are oppressed.” Psalm 103:6</span></span></div>
<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Can you imagine how different things would be if you and I simply worked together? Can you picture the impact we could have- you helping mothers keep their children, me helping those who truly cannot?</span></span></div>
<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
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<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">“As a prisoner for the Lord, then, I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received. Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace.” Ephesians 4:1-3</span></span></div>
<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
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<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">So here is my invitation to you:</span></span></div>
<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
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<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I am publicly inviting you to my personal home to get to know me and my children. I will pay for your airline tickets. I will cover every cost. Please, sit in my living room and let me offer you some tea. Judge me by my fruit, by my life, by my children. Please, call up the hundreds of adoptive and adopting parents who do know me and would vouch for my integrity. Speak to my Haitian partners and friends. Please call up my father, my brother, my friends. Research my life and judge me based on what you find. Call up my boss and ask him why he hired me. Call my pastor, sit with him and let him tell you what he knows first hand and has witnessed.</span></span></div>
<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
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<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I am asking you…please do this. Not for my sake, but for the sake of those who are watching us profess a Christian faith that promises that its chief identifier, its very hallmark, is unshakable and unconditional love among its members. Where is that love in this situation? “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” John 13:34-35</span></span></div>
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<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">My fellow missionaries, please put down your stones. If you are willing to seek reconciliation and understanding, please contact me. We have a beautiful, albeit challenging, opportunity to demonstrate the power of Christ over conflict and of love over differences. Let’s rise up and lay aside all these petty distractions and bring our focus back to what we share- a love for and faith in the very same Prince of Peace.</span></span></div>
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<div class="font_9" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-family: 'eb garamond'; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">“Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.” Colossians 3:12-14</span></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305918071455739536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507635326801705652.post-86330705810009586902013-06-20T20:12:00.000-07:002014-06-12T21:36:33.192-07:00Dealing With The Sexual Issues<div style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; text-align: center;">
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>Dealing With The Sexual Issues</b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">What would you do if someone started acting out sexually towards your child? What would you do if someone hurt your child? I asked some of my closest friends and these were some of their answers. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">- Load my shotgun</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">- Call the police</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">- Inflict bodily harm</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">- Press charges</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">- Raging momma bear would be unleashed</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">- I would have to hold back my husband</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Now what would you do if the perpetrator just happened to share your last name? What would you do if this perpetrator was just a child? What would you do if you had committed to this child for life, yet they constantly act out sexually? </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Unfortunately, this is a REAL LIFE NIGHTMARE for many parents. I am one of them, and I cannot even begin to express the complete hell I have been through with this issue. It’s the one topic I despise talking about, probably because I still need some therapy myself due to the traumatic experiences I have had with my own kids. It wouldn’t surprise me to find that I have some kind of severe PTSD from dealing with this issue in my home.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I have mentioned before, but thought I would reiterate that my first six years of parenting were spent in a fetal position crying out to God for help. I wasn’t over exaggerating that statement by any means. It’s been a lonely, exhausting, private, personal hell dealing with all kinds of issues due to adopting children with Reactive Attachment Disorder. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Yes, I am officially exhausted. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The other day someone said they thought my life seemed glamorous, helping all these vulnerable precious children. Let me reassure you….my life is far from glamorous. Don’t let all the cute and vibrant pictures fool you! </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Would I do it all over again? Yes. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Was it worth it? Yes. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Was it the hardest thing I have ever done? Yes... </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Would I adopt another RADS child? God would have to part the red sea again and SHOW UP IN PERSON for me to say YES. I say this because I feel like I will still have to be “working” on touching my children’s hearts even as adults. Parenting RADS children doesn’t stop at age 18!</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Would I wish this life on anyone else? No. Before you adopt a child with sexual issues make sure you fully grasp the level of commitment it will take. It’s not an issue that just magically disappears after one therapy session. You literally have to retrain the brain. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">One day I talked to one of my child’s former adoptive parents and they mentioned that they had to get rid of my child due to the fact this child had perpetrated on another three year old child in their home. I was horrified that this was not in my child’s records. I am not sure it would have changed my mind on the adoption, but it would have been nice to know what I was dealing with. Then the first week of this child being in my home they started threatening to rape and abuse the other children verbally. I was blown away by all that my five year old knew sexually, and I couldn’t believe the vocabulary that they already had in this area. I was in shock when I would hear about the sexual acts that this child had witnessed and endured. Can you imagine me as a young 24 year old dealing with this stuff? </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I started my child on Reactive Attachment Therapy and we attended counseling for these sexual issues every Thursday. I admit I was scared to let them out of my sight. I put alarms on all the doors, and I spent a lot of time sleeping on the couch and in front of this child’s doorway for almost two years. I set rules in place that would protect the children we hung out with, and the other children in my home. I made sure this child was never allowed to spend the night in another person’s home. It seemed we would have great victories and then this child would eventually regress to the same behaviors. I felt like I was on this constant up and down roller coaster, and one with more downs than ups! </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I wish I could tell you that all my methods worked, and we are all living happily ever after. I ended up trying some very creative methods that hopefully one day I will be able to share with you, but I first wanted to make sure they actually worked and my child isn’t going to be in therapy at age 35 because of them! Only time will tell. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I ended up developing a HUGE heart for the children who have to deal with sexual issues and ended up adopting a few more with that same struggle. Crazy? Yes. But I think you have to be a little passionate and a good kind of crazy to take on such behavior issues. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Here are a few things that helped me survive living with the sexual behaviors. </span></div>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I made a schedule for myself. I took 15 minutes every day and just rocked my child praying over the specific sexual issues they have. I pretended my child was a newborn baby that I had just brought home from the hospital, and went to great lengths to try and bond with this child and rebuild the mind, heart, emotions, and self-esteem, to overpower all the disgusting memories with precious, pure, and safe memories. </span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I spent literally two years giving my child who struggled with sexual issues a bubble bath. During that bath time, we would go over what every part of the body was used for. We began to talk about sexual issues and what appropriate touches were, etc.</span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I would sit and do play therapy with the child. We would act out situations and literally practice how to function normally with our bodies and how to behave appropriately.</span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We would read books dealing with sexual issues together at night.</span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We wrote down all the disgusting things that were done to this child on toilet paper squares and then flushed it down the toilet as a sign of getting rid of the past and starting anew.</span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We admitted our own faults and learned about the power of forgiveness. </span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We did a 12 step program dealing with sexual behaviors.</span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We studied what it meant to be a lady and a gentleman. </span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We picked one issue a month and purposely tried to work on that issue all month.</span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We tried to avoid any kinds of sexually charged media/ TV/Movies.</span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We talked about the God approved plan for sex and how sex can be a beautiful thing in a marriage. </span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We set up appropriate boundaries for the child.</span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We made a safety plan.</span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We educated the other children. </span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We sought professional help.</span></li>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Some other recommendations for dealing with this extremely difficult and heart rending problem:</span></div>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Speak life over your child. Surround this child with constant words of encouragement.</span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Separate the sexual issues from the child. These sexual behaviors are NOT the child. The child is not the behavior. Most likely these behaviors are not even the child's fault.</span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Don't ever call your child a perpetrator, sex offender, or label them with these sexual issues. I remember several times my own father called one of my children a sex offender. Well that is 1 out of a million reasons our relationship is estranged to this day. I still love the precious man, but his constant negative and inappropriate words were not breathing life to me or my children. </span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Make sure you surround yourself with a support group and positive people. If there are people in your life that are not supporting you, and constantly criticizing you, take a pair of scissors and cut those relationships out. You can still love them, but love them from a healthy safe distance that will protect your children’s heart. </span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Most people just send their child to a hospital or a special treatment facility, but I was determined to bring the treatment facility into the safety of my own home. I was determined to do whatever it took to see this child healed and whole. You don't have to send your child away; learn what treatment facilities do and bring that specialized help into your own home. </span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Make sure this child never hears you speak about the sexual issues on the phone or in public. If you are writing about the issues like I am in a blog, make sure to never mention the child's name. Always refer to the child as THE CHILD, not a HE OR SHE so it doesn't give any hint to who the child is. I also want to make it clear that I have only recently begun talking about these issues. This is something I have kept private for over 10 years out of respect for my children. My closest friends don't even know which children of mine have struggled with certain issues, and they will never know, because I will never tell. Keep your child's behavior issues PRIVATE. Respect and honor their privacy. </span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Treat your child like royalty and the redeemed child that they are. Don't hold the sexual behaviors over their head like a weapon when you are frustrated with them. Don't ever use the behavior issue against them during family disagreements. Forgive them for the behavior and recognize it’s a sickness not their personality. </span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Don't accuse them of the issue unless you 100% are sure. </span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Allow your child to change. Don't over exaggerate. For example, if your child gives their sibling an appropriate approved hug, don't read too much into it and pervert their purity. Our children can change! Let's not mark them guilty and force them to wear a scarlet letter the rest of their lives. </span></li>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I truly believe that as long as a child is still breathing, there is still hope. Now I want to make it clear that the above issues were with children that were 13 and under. I took different precautions and methods with some of my children who were teenagers and acting out sexually, but that’s for another blog, another time.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">In the meantime, I want to send a cyberhug to all my dear fellow parents who are struggling with children who are acting out sexually. I know this can be a complete nightmare and I share in your pain. Be encouraged today and I wanted to leave you a list of recommended sites and books that have helped me on my journey. </span></div>
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1). <span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="http://www.thriftbooks.com/viewdetails.aspx?isbn=1578566894&gclid=CJ7I8dev9b4CFY0WMgodpgcAIg" target="_blank">Preparing your son for every man's battle.</a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b371b;">2)<a href="http://www.amazon.com/How-Stop-Pain-James-Richards/dp/0883687224/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1402634117&sr=8-1&keywords=How+to+stop+the+pain" target="_blank">. </a></span><span style="color: #ba0000;"><u><a href="http://www.amazon.com/How-Stop-Pain-James-Richards/dp/0883687224/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1402634117&sr=8-1&keywords=How+to+stop+the+pain" target="_blank">How to Stop the Pain</a></u></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b371b;">3)</span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Child-Heart-Louis-Carol-Gordon/dp/0962760900" style="color: #0b371b;" target="_blank">. </a><span style="color: #ba0000;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Child-Heart-Louis-Gordon-ebook/dp/B009YN23WM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1402634069&sr=8-1&keywords=the+child+heart+louis+and+carol+gordon" target="_blank">The Child Heart</a></span></div>
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<a href="http://empoweredtoconnect.org/" target="_blank"><br /></a></div>
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<span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="http://empoweredtoconnect.org/" target="_blank">1).Empowered to Connect</a></span></div>
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To Read my blog on "Battling the Food Issues" CLICK<u><a href="http://www.heatherelyse.com/#!Battling-the-Food-Issues/cm31/17380DB8-60D4-4392-94BD-828077D78BDA" target="_blank"> HERE</a></u></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305918071455739536noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507635326801705652.post-18422932987965665922013-03-09T23:02:00.001-08:002014-05-15T22:28:51.773-07:00Christian VS. Christian<br />
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The <span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">line</span> in the sand has been drawn. You are on one side of the <span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">line</span>, wondering why it has just been drawn before you. You look up to see a group of people whispering and pointing at you on the other side of the <span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">line</span>. This group of people call themselves <span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Christians</span>. Ironically, you call yourself a <span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Christian</span> as well.</div>
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This is a story of the hidden war that goes on daily. It’s a war that no one really wants to talk about. It’s a war between one <span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Christian</span> and another <span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Christian</span>. The <span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">line</span> has been drawn – not by you, but by your accusers, the <span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Christians</span> on the other side. This <span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">line</span> declares that you are guilty, and there is a distinct difference between you and them. You are wrong and they are right. This <span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">line</span> represents discord.</div>
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The <span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Christians</span> who became your accusers begin to pick up <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stones</span>. Now, these <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stones</span> don’t look like normal <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stones</span>, because they are secretly disguised. These <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stones</span> are so wrapped up in deception, that the person holding the <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stone</span> actually believes it is appropriate to pick it up and throw it at you. They may not even realize they are throwing <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stones</span> at you because they are so blinded by the deception that so cunningly hides the true nature of the <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stones</span>. They may not even realize that the process of bending over and looking for a <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stone</span> even took place.</div>
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One of these <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stones</span> is disguised as <span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">“justification.”</span> The person who picked up this <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stone</span> is convinced that they are doing the “right thing,” and has justified their action of picking up the<span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> stone</span>. They are about to throw it at you, continuing to justify why it’s perfectly acceptable to throw the <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stone</span>. And when the <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stone</span> hits you, and you shriek in agony, you hear this person laughing. Why would this person be happy about your pain?</div>
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Another <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stone</span> is secretly disguised as a <span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">“church meeting.”</span> This person has called meetings with other people, and has become convinced that it is acceptable to throw this <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stone</span> at you, because they sought what they would call “biblical counsel.” Unfortunately, it was at this<span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> “church meeting” </span>that you were slandered and crucified. Someone from this group bends down to pick up a stone that is marked <span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">“borrowed offense” </span>and throws it at you. All of a sudden, you realize that this person is a stranger. You look closer, and you start to feel your eyes well up with tears. Why is a complete stranger throwing this <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stone</span> at you? You have never even met this person. How could they throw a <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stone</span> at you without even an introduction? This person has never entered your home, met your children, or gotten one glimpse of your heart. Why didn't they judge you by your fruit? They haven’t even met your fruit, which happens to be your children. They pick up yet another <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stone</span>, which says <span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">“false accusations.”</span> You hang your head as this merciless <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stone</span> is thrown at you. You try to duck and move, so that perhaps the <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stone</span> will miss you, but it comes straight toward your heart. This hit brings deep hurt.</div>
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As you resolutely pull yourself up off the ground, you squint your eyes, because you see your friend, your neighbor, and your family member collecting <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stones</span>. Surely, they are not about to throw them at you, are they? Being betrayed by a friend or someone you love and know well tastes like death. You stand there watching as your lifelong friend quickly collects a handful of <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stones</span>, carefully deciding which one to throw first. One by one, these <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stones</span> rip into your heart. You would rather be physically beaten than watch your own family member, friend, or neighbor holding these <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stones</span>. You try to hide the tears that are flowing so freely now. And before you know it, you see another <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stone</span> flying in the air, marked with words that depict everything you are passionately against. You live out Truth, yet the <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stone</span> is marked <span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">"liar."</span> Your life breathes purity, yet the <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stone</span> is marked <span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">"perversion."</span> You live a life of consecration, yet this <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stone</span> calls you a<span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> "fraud."</span> You cover your face while these so-called <span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Christians</span> continue throwing stones at you. You hear a crowd nearby that has slowly gathered to watch the war. You hear them whispering and you see them pointing fingers at you. You hear your name as people in the crowd start talking about you. You look around, wondering who is going to step forward and defend you. No one steps forward. You start looking around for places where you can run and hide. You hang your head in shame and embarrassment.</div>
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You are numb, weary, bruised, and bleeding. You fall to your knees due to the excruciating pain that has been inflicted upon you by these<span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> stones.</span> You realize that your heart hurts worse than your physical body. You feel misunderstood. You feel like you are going into battle with your armor on. You are on top of a horse, right on the front lines, and yet you have been beaten up so badly that you feel like you are about to fall off. You feel like giving up.</div>
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All of a sudden, you feel someone’s hand upon your shoulder, the hand of a Man who somewhat resembles you. Tears are streaming down His face. He appears to have been in the exact same war as you. Blood is streaming down His body, and you notice that this Man bears the very same scars as you. His wounds match your wounds. His deep cuts are identical to your cuts. He walks over to where the <span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">line</span> has been drawn in the sand, and He begins to erase it. His blood is dripping over the spot where the <span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">line</span> had once appeared so clearly. He walks over to your accusers and whispers into their ears, telling them to drop their <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stones</span>. He weeps because He has to watch His children throw <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stones</span> at one another. Some can’t hear Him whisper into their ears, because their hearts have turned into <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stones </span>as cold as the ones they hold in their hands.</div>
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He turns to you and lifts you up, just as a father carries his beloved child on his back. He tells you that you can rest in Him. He sits you down and begins to wash your feet with His tears, and lets them fall upon your open wounds. He teaches you how to take the very stones that were thrown at you and build an altar with them, where you can simply worship Him. You feel a peaceful blanket of grace surround you as you weep, because you feel a healing balm enter the depths of your heart. This Man hands you His sword, and you realize your strength has returned. It is a deeper strength than you have ever known. You watch this Man go before you, and begin to prepare a path for you. He tells you to be still and know that He is God. Many weapons may be formed. Many weapons may even be used against you – but <span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">none</span> will prosper.</div>
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---to be continued.</div>
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(and now for my rambling...)</div>
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There are many things that grieve my heart, but the fact that Christians can’t get along makes the grieving more intense. I don’t understand why two professing Christians can’t sit down and handle things biblically. Why can’t they talk it out until reconciliation is made? Why are Christians slaughtering other Christians almost daily? Why must there be so much discord amongst Christians? Why can’t we all get along? Why must unity be so difficult? No wonder people don’t want to walk into a church building!</div>
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I have heard it said more than once that many people consider a bar safer then a church. This has got to change! I understand there are some people you can’t reconcile with. You try and try, but for some reason they have a door inside of their hearts that slams shut every time you go knocking. You try to apologize and perform acts of kindness in order to seek reconciliation, but they slam the door shut in your face and choose to hold a grudge. You even try and reconcile when you were the one who was wronged, and yet nothing but revenge drips from their tongues and actions.</div>
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This kind of thing disgusts me. I can’t quite wrap my brain around it. I guess that’s because I grew up in a home where you “duked” it out until reconciliation was made. I love the story of a couple in marriage counseling, who could not agree on some particular issues. The fighting and arguing was fierce between them. The pastor asks them a simple question: “So, which one of you is gonna die today?” Why can't we die daily to our flesh and choose to walk in the Spirit? Why can’t we lay down our need to be right? We have no business seeking what we consider to be justice. We need to touch the heart of God, and find out what <span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">He</span> considers to be justice. If my young children can face their biological parents who did horrors to them, and in doing so still choose forgiveness, then why can’t we? If the mother who just lost her children to a horrendous murder can visit the murderer in prison, and seek reconciliation, then why can’t we all find some way to get along? If the wife can forgive the drunk driver who just killed her husband and newborn baby, why can’t we simply forgive each other? What do we gain from revenge? What does it really prove? How can destroying another Christian truly make you feel like you did the right thing? </div>
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I am sick and tired of church splits, organizations bashing one another, women not being able to bridle their tongues, and people not even talking to their own family members. We say we want revival and for professing Christians to actually <span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">be the Church.</span> Well, then, let’s lay down our need to be <span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">right </span>and start being <span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Jesus</span> to one another!</div>
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To put it simply, I do not have time to put up with discord, unnecessary drama, gossip, slander, or anything that is not holy. There is <span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">never</span> an excuse to talk about another person in a negative light – end of story.</div>
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Let's choose to say <span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">only that which we would want quoted</span>.</div>
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We have three family rules in my home:</div>
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1) First Time Obedience</div>
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2) Sweetness or Silence</div>
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3) Be Givers Not Takers</div>
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I think it’s time we all be Sweet or Silent. Let us become consumed with loving our Jesus, becoming intimate with Him, taking care of our spouses, pouring into our kids, and cleaning our homes and hearts out!</div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">May our hearts break for the things that break the heart of our precious Lord Jesus.</span> May we be too consumed with serving our Lord that we have no time for "unnecessary nonsense." And may we stay away from "idle chatter,” only speaking what is lovely and what will bring Glory to our God.</div>
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And let us lay down our <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stones.</span> Let us not even consider picking one up. Let us not even consider <span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">looking </span>for <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stones!</span></div>
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If you are like the person in my story, and have had many <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stones</span> thrown at you, may you be rest assured that you didn't go through that trial alone. As the leader of an organization, I can testify to the “unnecessary drama” that comes about at times. But when <span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">stones</span> begin to fly, I have learned to pick them up, build an altar, and worship the Lord. Go build your altar and worship the God who goes before us!</div>
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You are called.</div>
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You are anointed.</div>
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You are equipped.</div>
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You are more than a conqueror.</div>
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You are here for such a time as this.</div>
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You are royalty.</div>
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You are a sanctuary.</div>
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You have been called out of darkness and into His light!</div>
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You are forgiven.</div>
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You are cherished.</div>
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You are wanted.</div>
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You are needed.</div>
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You are LOVED! ......and so shall you be treated.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305918071455739536noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507635326801705652.post-6383968508366209362012-12-18T22:54:00.000-08:002014-05-16T09:13:21.302-07:00How to Survive the Mission Field<br />
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~My Personal Top Ten~</div>
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...just another blog written on the rooftop of Haiti.</div>
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So, you want to be a missionary, eh? Well, here is my official missionary advice. Feel free to take it or leave it. </div>
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This advice describes how I have successfully survived the mission field with my bazillion children, along with over 80 employees, over 160 Haitian children, and two organizations I help to oversee – whew! Now of course I probably need to enter some kind of ministry rehab for burnt out missionaries, but thats another blog for another time. Ha- we will visit that topic very soon. ;)</div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">1. The Mission Field Starts With Your Family</span></div>
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Your mission field first begins with your family. If you are having marital issues, child behavioral issues, extended family conflicts, etc., going to the mission field will not solve those problems. Any problems you bring to the mission field will only be magnified. Your mission field must first be your family. So many ministers pour into others, while their family gets the "leftovers." Pastor, teach, evangelize, and minister to your family first before anyone else. When your family is in order, you will find that they are the ones who spur you on to pour into others. Your work becomes a ministry in which the family pours out together, not just the father. If you are aching to go to the mission field, try visiting your extended family members, and practice serving them first. Wash their feet for a season. Seek reconciliation in your relationships with them, even if you have been wronged. Serve them first! Don't ever leave to go overseas with bitterness in your heart. I will say it again – seek reconciliation even if you have been wronged. We have no business going overseas if our home life is not in order – end of story. The Gospel of Jesus Christ needs to be lived out daily around the dinnter table- before it enters the mission field. May the strength of our ministry reflect the strength of our home!</div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">2. Make it Your Goal to Wash Feet</span></div>
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Don't go overseas to promote yourself, acquire followers or supporters, or to teach your ways to the people. Go wash their feet. Let me say that again: go wash their feet! Go carry water for them. Go learn about their culture. Go sit and hand-wash clothes with them. Go help them sweep their dirt floors and bury their loved ones. Sit and tell jokes with them. Go be Jesus in real life to them. Once you build their trust and respect, I am telling you, all doors will be open! Then you can preach the Gospel. Then you can teach them how to garden and make a living for their families. We are not better than the vulnerable and weak. If you think you are, then please don't enter the mission field. You should be able to enter the homes of the poorest of the poor, and treat them the same way you would treat famous kings and queens. Meet their needs before attempting to shove the Gospel down their throats. Don't preach to a hungry person without feeding him first! Live out the Gospel – don't just preach it!</div>
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My darling, dearest future missionaries who may read this, please hear my heart. If you have thousands and thousands of dollars in debt, please spare us all of the plea letters asking for support. Pay off your debt before you touch the mission field. Your finances need to be in order. Those who are good stewards with the little they have will be trusted with more. Those who are not good stewards with the little they have will only make the little debt turn into a bigger debt. Get rid of the extra, and live simply. I know what it feels like to be the single mom who has to work for every penny and take on extra jobs just to put food on the table. If you do not have a good work ethic in the good ol’ USA, the mission field is not your escape. Whether you agree with Dave Ramsey or not, some of his principles have saved us countless of times! Oh, how we love that emergency fund! Many times we had to say goodbye to it – but thankfully, it was there! Live debt-free so that you have the freedom to GIVE, GIVE, GIVE...and then give some more! Give until it hurts!</div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">4. Learn the Language</span></div>
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Learn the Language. I was an ignorant fool before I learned to speak Creole. But once I did learn it, it was like a whole new world opened up, and all made sense. Thankfully, my kids became fluent, and have since become my translators (as I have been told that my Creole is horrendous, with my strong accent and high-pitched voice). I definitely have lots to learn – but I try, and the Haitian people appreciate the effort. I may get more laughs than I would like, but it works! Remember, you don't have to speak the language perfectly, but at least try! Learning Creole has given me the opportunity to sit amongst the Haitians in their dirt huts and connect with them, heart to heart.</div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">5. Say “Goodbye” to the Missionary Handbook</span></div>
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I am ready to throw away all those missionary handbooks that tell you to dress in your worst clothing and leave all your nice items at home. I will never forget attending a "World Blitz" at my church. I was about to go to Bulgaria and Romania, and I had to go through a time of training. (you can read about this in my blog called "Confessions of a Missionary: Part 1") I remember looking the part. I had found my ugliest, oldest, stain-ridden clothes. I was rocking the fanny pack, the missionary braids, and even the missionary bandanna. I had my "Save the World Blitz" t-shirt on with my unmatched long skirt. If I remember right, I was also sporting a pair of Keds tennis shoes – and socks to match the t-shirt, of course! (Oh, and I am pretty sure I had the matching hair scrunchie as well!) I took out my earrings – heaven forbid they get stolen! (sarcasm) I was ready to go save Bulgaria and Romania, and I had the t-shirt to prove it! Well, I will never forget getting off the airplane and being completely ticked off, because all the Bulgarians looked and dressed nicer then me. I looked ridiculous. All I wanted to do was go shopping for new clothes. I was horrified when I realized that all I had prepared and packed for was not what this country needed. Then it hit me. Wait, aren't we representing Christ and the very heart of God? Surely, even Jesus back in Bible times didn’t look as ridiculous as I do! I remember feeling like a complete idiot, going from church to church preaching the Gospel, all the while realizing there had to be more. I can almost guarantee you those churches wouldn’t remember me today! I am thinking it's time for a new missionary handbook to be written. We have got to lay this prideful missionary spirit down that says, "We know best." The truth is that oftentimes, we don't know best, and it’s time to allow God to teach us what it really means to be on the mission field. So Reflect Jesus well on the mission field! </div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">6. Be Willing to Bleed, Suffer, and Die</span></div>
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Don't enter the mission field if you are not willing to bleed, suffer, and die for your neighbors. If you are not there yet, then please save money on newsletters and business cards, and just make your community and family your mission field for a season. I’m pretty sure I don't need to go into any more detail. Be willing to bleed, suffer, and die, or don’t go – end of story.</div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">7. Don't Harass the Churches</span></div>
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Prospective missionaries often go from church to church asking for financial support, and I would love to see that changed! Certainly, there must be another way! Now, I am not saying that it is wrong to go from church to church, but we must be careful to not cast a vision without actually acting upon it. Churches in America have been burned by missionaries overseas who end up abusing the finances they receive. Don't quote me if I am wrong, but I am pretty sure the Bible says, “Go into all the world, preach the Gospel, and make disciples of men.” If that is the case, I am pretty sure that we as a Church have been wrong. Instead of simply going, we are hitting up every church in America, sucking the Church dry for our building projects. We are too busy sending out prayer cards and newsletters when we should be sitting and washing our neighbors’ feet. We need to seek the heart of God and figure out what Scripture says about raising funds – there has to be another way!</div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">8. A Word to the Parents</span></div>
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Dear parents, please stop sending your rebellious teenagers overseas, thinking that living in a third world country will change them. If I had a dollar for every parent who wanted to send their rebellious teen to me, I could possibly feed a section of Haiti! I'm not sure what the reasoning is when you send your teenagers to a foreign country and expect a mission organization to fix them. Can you please just step it up? Go hold them until they heal. Go tackle them to the ground, and make sure they know you are completely for them, and love them. Stop emailing me, because, no, I will not take your rebellious teenager. But I would be glad to pray for you and would encourage you to hold them until they heal. Parenting doesn't stop when children become teenagers. When they hit the teen stage, it simply means that we as parents have to step it up and parent them with a purpose and a passion! Trust me I am parenting 6 teenagers this year, and I personally understand how difficult it is. I feel your pain- but please keep them off the mission field for now. Let their schools be their mission fields. ;)</div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">9. Avoid Zeal Without Knowledge</span></div>
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I had a missionary ask to serve alongside of me. I said “no,” and here is the reason why: I went on a trip with this person, and while I was impressed by their passion and zeal for the people of Haiti, I was disappointed by their behavior in the following situations:</div>
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- During times when I was sharing or preaching, this person would walk away in the middle of the ministry time because they “felt led” to go do something else. I had a hard time believing it was the Holy Spirit’s leading, because it was both rude and disrespectful. </div>
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- This person kept claiming that they had come to wash my feet, but instead they had made lists of things in the ministry that needed to be fixed. One time, this person humiliated me in front of my staff by pointing out all my flaws (as if I don't already know them!).</div>
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- This person would always abandon their post. They didn't receive orders, but only tried to interpret the orders. I remember a time at the market, when this person had been given a specific job to accomplish, but abandoned it to go preach the Gospel.</div>
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- This person was always defensive and constantly played the devil’s advocate, while continuously talking about their strengths and what they could do for the ministry.</div>
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The Bible clearly says in Luke 14:10, <span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">“But when you are invited, take the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he will say to you, ‘Friend, move up to a better place.' Then you will be honored in the presence of all your fellow guests.”</span></div>
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I could possibly write a book titled "What <span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Not</span> to Do with Your Non-Profit.” However, one thing that has definitely helped our ministry is hiring the right people! We have zero strife amongst the leadership and no drama – just pure JESUS and teamwork, having the same mind-set and aim to build God's kingdom, not our own! (Now please note it took me a long time to get there! I have made my fair share of missionary mistakes!)</div>
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So, be careful, my friends. Don't get caught up in hype and zeal. Rather, let's use our God-given brains and allow God to teach us how to survive the mission field in a biblical way! Let's take the lowest place and serve!</div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">10. How I Supernaturally Funded and Self-Supported My Family</span></div>
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Just because you have a business card, website, and a "big dream" does not make you a missionary. I remember when I first went to live in Haiti. I had no business cards (and still don't), no website, no brochures, and had never sent a newsletter. I had a clear word from the Lord to not ask a single person for money. I have only asked for money once, and that was when I asked the church I grew up in, and where my father pastored. I still to this day do not have a single church supporting me or the ministry. I remember one of the board members even sent me a check for $200.00, saying they would get back with me. Well, they never did get back with me. I remember sitting in Haiti, in tears, thinking, How can a church that I grew up in, where my father pastored, not support me? If they could at least send me one dollar a month, that would at least heal this church wound that has entered my heart.</div>
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I had to sit back and watch friends I had grown up with in youth group get monthly support because their family members were on the board. But somehow the single lady with a bazillion kids, whose father was the pastor, gets ignored? I was having a pity party, asking the Lord how was I going to do this if I had no supporters. Well, that is where I was wrong. I was asking God how I was going to do this. But in reality, It should never be about me and you. It's about God – end of story! I was in the wrong mind-set! Somehow I had made this whole thing about me, when it actually had nothing to do with me.</div>
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So, here is how we have survived the mission field: we sold everything! We sold it all. We supported ourselves with the supernatural help of God. We sold our car and our belongings, and traded them in for the Haitian people. We chose to live amongst the people of Haiti for three years, on a rooftop. I have never asked a single person for money other than my father's church – and I plan to keep it that way. God supernaturally provided! The ministry exploded once I finally surrendered! I stepped out and allowed God to step in and run this mission. We need to stop thinking that we have something to accomplish on the mission field. Let us abandon ourselves! Let us crucify ourselves, and choose to die daily to our flesh! May we crush our flesh, and tell our Spirit to rise! May we look, smell, walk, talk, and breathe like Jesus! Amazing and miraculous things happen when we step out and allow God to step in. I am living proof of this! There is no way some young, very broken girl like me could have done this! I did nothing other than crucify myself in Christ! I am not amazing – I simply said “yes” to dying to myself.</div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">(Bonus Advice...) If You Don't Like the People or the Country, Go Home!</span></div>
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If you don't like the country, please don't move there. One of my biggest irritations is when missionaries dislike the native people. As I’ve worked here in Haiti, I’ve constantly been appalled at how many missionaries dislike Haitians. I don't understand it. I know one organization that decided they couldn't trust any Haitians, so they fired all their Haitian staff and only have Americans running the mission. I would like to ask them why they are even in Haiti in the first place! Now, don't get me wrong. I, too, have fired Haitian staff due to lack of integrity, etc. But what I am learning about the Haitian people is that many of them just don't know another way of living. There is such a lack of "men" in Haiti, men willing to step up and do the right thing. But isn't that why we are in Haiti? Isn’t our desire to disciple and reach out to the Haitian people? I am praying for godly masculinity and femininity to be restored in this country! I pray that God gives you an unconditional love for His people! – may you see them through His eyes.</div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">(And a Final Note to Pastors and Churches...)</span></div>
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Here is my advice to pastors who are considering supporting a ministry through their church. What I have noticed is this: many individuals who couldn't survive working in ministry in the U.S. flock to different countries. There are people who were on food stamps while living in the U.S. now making eighty thousand dollar yearly incomes on the mission field. ( I am not bashing people who need govt assistance!- just an observation) We have unstable, unhealthy, and spiritually, emotionally and mentally ill people running ministries overseas. Actually, it is probably the same with many churches today. We have unhealthy pastors – pastoring! The difference is this: it seems that we missionaries can get away with a lot more, due to the fact that we are overseas and just send a newsletter or post a blog from time to time.</div>
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Here is what I recommend you do before you decide to support a missionary:</div>
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1. If possible, go to the country they are in and visit them. Sometimes websites and social media sites do <span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">not</span> portray truth, but only cast a vision.</div>
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2. “Stalk” the prospective candidate on the Internet. Some missionaries tend to “flaunt” their work in a sense. For example, they’ll buy a poor person a plate of food, and then brag about it by posting a picture on Facebook or Twitter. If you see something like that happening, consider it to be a red flag!</div>
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3. If the missionary bashes other people or talks against another organization – run! If they are willing to talk negatively toward their fellow brothers and sisters in Christ, it’s another red flag! There is never any excuse for missionaries to trash one another – end of story! We need to control our tongues! “Out of the heart the mouth speaks” – listen to what is in the person’s heart, and listen with discernment.</div>
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4. I have seen many missionaries start something and then end it after only a year or two. I am tired of seeing marriages fall apart on the mission field. I am tired of hearing about the missionaries who fall into sexual temptation. Before you support someone, make your expectations "over the top" clear! Keep the person accountable! Those of us who have nothing to hide will have no issues with showing you our bank statements and financial dealings. Make sure there is a level of accountability! Also, maybe you are just called to GIVE with no expectations- if that is the case, then obey. Don't listen to me by any means. I am just a professional rambler! ;)</div>
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5). We have lots of dreamers, but not a whole lot of doers! A church should be known for its sending capacity, not its seating capacity! Set a clear "Code of Conduct" for the missionaries your church supports. Have someone in your congregation oversee this area. Make sure communication and organization are extremely detailed and sound. Search the Scriptures, and find out exactly what God has to say about all this. Touch <span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">His</span> heart first, before touching the hearts of missionaries. Once you have touched His heart, He will lead you to the missionaries you are supposed to send, support, and strengthen!</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305918071455739536noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507635326801705652.post-64792264157774825292012-10-18T12:01:00.000-07:002012-12-18T23:47:46.911-08:00Table For Nine - Chapter 2- Victoria<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Here is an <u>unedited</u> glimpse of Chapter 2 from the book.. "TABLE FOR NINE." This Chapter is called... "Victoria." I attached the original letter of when this was written. I still cry/laugh every time I read this. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">ALL I HAVE TO SAY IS THIS:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">If you Invite God into your parenting daily...MIRACLES will happen. ~Heather Elyse</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">****************************************</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Dear<b> Mom,</b></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I came to you from an Institution. <b>You told me I was family.</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I told you I hated you. <b> You chose to adopt me.</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I refused to walk, so I crawled.<b> You bought me knee pads.</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I killed animals. <b> You Forgave me. </b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I broke your valuables.<b> You told me I was more important.</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I carved all over your walls. <b> You placed a frame over them and called it “artwork.”</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I screamed at you and stomped up the stairs. <b> You hollered back....”I love you.”</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I burned down your kitchen.<b> You bought a grill.</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I smeared feces on your walls.<b> You told me no big deal, and bought more bleach and removed the bathroom door.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I refused to shower. <b> You bought a blow up pool, and told me to go swimming.</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I refused to let you hold me. <b> You grabbed my sock and said...”fine I will hold this.”</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I pushed you. <b> You held me tighter.</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I tried not to let you in. <b> You kept knocking at my heart.</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I ripped up any papers you had- just to hurt you. <b> You printed more.</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I tried to run away.<i> </i><b> You quickly packed me a lunch and handed me emergency numbers.</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I screamed at you, hoping you would scream back. <b> You just sat there smiling and singing "oh happy day."</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I destroyed my room. <b> You said it needed to be remodeled anyways.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I was depressed. <b> So you jumped on my bed in the morning- and blasted Worship music.</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I told you I couldn’t get up in the mornings. <b> You told me to crawl out of bed and you would help me brush my teeth.</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I told you I wanted to die. <b> You told me you couldn’t afford a funeral, so why not change the world instead- and die as a Martyr.</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I told you I hated men.<b> You cut them out of all my books and magazines.</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I told you I wasn’t normal. <b> You said....”Perfect I am only raising up extraordinary <i>different</i> Children.”</b></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">~I told you I would never heal.~</span></i></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> You told me you would <u>Hold Me until the pain is gone.</u></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">You promised to continue to hold me even when this pain did leave.</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">The Pain has left.</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I am still being held.</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Thank you.</span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Love, Victoria</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">From the mouth of Victoria:</span><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">You sat me down in the middle of our living room floor. You handed me boxes of matches and tons of paper and said, “I am not sure why you destroy everything you touch, but let’s get it out of your system.” So you sat there and started lighting match after match. You started ripping up paper into small pieces, and I sat there cold hearted and just stared at you. I was angry. I am not quite sure why I was angry. Anger was normal for me. I remember you started to pray out loud. I can’t remember the exact words, but the prayer went something like this:</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">“Dear God, I ask you to walk into this living room right now, and sit down beside our daughter Victoria. You told me to adopt her, I obeyed. She is mine. She is yours and we love her. You also promised that I wouldn’t have to raise her alone. So it’s your turn God. You are her father! She needs daddy time right now! I need you to show yourself real to her. Take her heart and replace it with yours. Take my tears and pour them on her open wounds. Let her FEEL again. Hold her like a father holds his brand new baby girl. Pick her up and swing her around. Let her climb on your feet and hold onto your legs... and dance with her! Put her on your lap and sing to her while you caress her hair. May she feel your presence and even smell your sweet fragrance. May she be so close to you that she knows when her daddy God has entered the room. Whisper those precious daddy words ... I love you to her heart. Tell her how much you adore her, and how beautiful she is to you. Tell her that she was birthed from my heart and came from you. I am certain she has your eyes God. I see you in her. Let her heart beat again. You have seen every tear that she has cried. I happen to know you cried with her. Your word says in Psalm 56:4 that you catch our tears and put them into a bottle, and number our wanderings. Oh Dear God you have numbered our daughter's wanderings. Take that bottle filled with her tears, and pour it back out on her like a rush of healing waves. Go to the deepest parts of her heart and restore."</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><br />
</i>From the mouth of Victoria:</span><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">After you prayed, I began to rip the paper up with you. With every rip the tears began to fall. I could feel again. As I sat there ripping up the papers and lighting the matches, I could feel God rip inside of me, and begin to destroy all the hurt and pain I have experienced. I couldn't control my sobbing. I felt these arms that you claimed to be my father surround me. I thought you were crazy for praying to an imaginary God that you called my father. That is I thought you were crazy until I felt him. You kept telling God that I was His and yours. You always said "Our" daughter when you prayed. I sat there completely broken and for the first time I did feel my feet on top of God's. I imagined my hands around his legs, and He danced with me. Yes God danced with me as I sobbed. I could feel him lift my broken body onto his lap. I felt my hair being caressed and I could even smell this fragrance you spoke about. </span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><br />
</b><b>to be continued..... </b></span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305918071455739536noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507635326801705652.post-81355706632619558342012-09-08T19:06:00.001-07:002014-04-08T22:59:56.501-07:00Top 3 Embarrassing Moments<br />
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<span style="border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">1). Drenched in 10 year old Urine:</strong></span></div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I can handle baby pee, but a ten year old’s -- that’s like an adult dumping a bucket of well urine on you. Yes, I had to walk around smelling like urine/pee/peepee (not sure what is socially acceptable to call it), and no, I didn't have a change of clothes. I greatly apologize to American Airlines flight 951!!! Also, to make things more adventurous, this same daughter who had "the accident" wore little plastic red Dorothy shoes that were donated to the mission. She donated her Juicy Couture boots, and ended up thinking these plastic-high heeled-sparkly shoes were better, so she switched. I normally check my darling kids before they leave the house, but somehow this daughter snuck passed her fashion police momma! So again, my apologies to American Airlines and customs who had to deal with the lady who smelled like pee traveling with a small little country, and a daughter who clicked her heels together as she left the plane drenched in pee (note: I am not a fan of the word pee so please forgive my bluntness. I just don't know a more appropriate word to call it).</span></div>
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I was speaking at a church and my son, "Mr. Alexander" was not sitting still so I gave him my iPhone where he could play a silent game of Tetris. I know that this wasn't the best parenting, but all eyes were upon us, and I was desperate to keep my son quiet. I am not sure how to begin to write the following events that took place. I am blushing just writing this right now. However, I want to ask that you please do not stop reading this once you begin. Read it thoroughly, so there are no misunderstandings, or new rumors started (I already have a nice collection of rumors about me, and this one doesn't need to be added to that list)! Now, back to my story. Imagine you are sitting in the audience listening to my testimony of adoption, when all of a sudden a little boy who is proud he can now read hollers out very concerned, "Mom your drivers license says you have had sex!" -- "mom, it says you got an F in Sex!” How does one even recover from such a thing?? I gently walked down trying to not let the audience see me shake. My son was sitting in the front row and had been bored with Tetris so he decided to dig through my purse. He found my drivers license, and was extremely concerned when he saw SEX was written on it. I had to publicly explain to him that “SEX” means gender and the "F" was for female. Thankfully the Holy Spirit saved me, and all of a sudden I turned the entire thing into a hilarious illustration that had my audience laughing hysterically. What people didn't know was while I was closing in prayer, my thoughts were on how I wanted to get my hands on my son, and how I would need to hire someone to watch him next time I do a speaking event. Dear Grace Church, when you saw me beet red it wasn't because it was hot in the service, but because I was extremely embarrassed. When you saw me motion to my daughter and sweetly smile to her, it was really a secret family code that we have made up to watch the kid next to you. Also, when you saw me gently and ever so sweetly brush my hand on my sons arm, and take the drivers license away that was a secret family code for, "Drink a Big Glass of Self Control or yippeekayay will be happening later!" For those who do not know what yippeekayay means in our family...good.... because you are not suppose to know. ;) Happy parenting everyone!!</div>
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Dorothy Shoes!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My son outside the Denver, Colorado MEN's Restroom!! </td></tr>
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MY "F" in sex!<br />
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<b> Happy Parenting everyone!!!! ;) </b><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305918071455739536noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507635326801705652.post-64433125104113079282012-06-12T20:06:00.000-07:002014-06-12T20:51:28.949-07:00My Top 3 Church Confessions<div style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; text-align: center;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>My Top 3 Church Confessions</b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Yes, I love God. Always have, always will. It's my faith that has gotten me through this insane journey, otherwise known as my life. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">But I have a confession to make...I don't like church. Never have, probably never will.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Maybe it’s because I grew up as a pastor’s kid. I was forced to sit in the front row, where I felt like all eyes were always upon me. I hated living in this glass house that was created for me. Church to me felt like a performance, not some Holy Experience. Now for the record, I was never one of those wild pastors’ daughters. The most I ever did was chew gum in church, well, that and take two communion cups of grape juice (but then, hasn’t everyone done that a time or twelve?). </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Maybe it’s because getting this many children ready every Sunday morning has been years of complete exhaustion. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I am convinced my Pastor needs to have a special handicapped parking space just for me. Because after getting that many kids ready and out the door, by the time I pull into the church parking lot, I am feeling pretty well disabled. Sometimes I think people need to just have a wheel chair ready for me, so after I get my kids dropped off and signed into their appropriate classes they can just wheel me in. I sit down most of the time during worship, not out of irreverence, but out of pure exhaustion. If you ever saw me crying in church, most likely it wasn't because I was touched by the Holy Spirit. ;) </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Thank God my parents taught me what it was to have a relationship with God, not just some Sunday morning experience. I am forever grateful for them teaching me what a quiet time was, how to hear that still small voice, and encouraged me to search out scriptures that provide the daily guidance for our lives. Even though our family was and is known for its extreme dysfunction, I am at least grateful my parents taught us about the heart of God. That overshadows all the rest. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I have learned that church is not a religion, it's a building. The Pastor is not God, nor should he ever be placed on some pedestal. It's a man trying to lead by example, the best that he knows how, both on Sunday and throughout the week. He or she will make mistakes and when they do, the sun will still shine, Big Bird will still be yellow, and God is still on the throne. I mean that's what Forgiveness is for... right? </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><b>I am convinced the church should not worry about its seating capacity, but its sending capacity.</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Church is supposed to be a place where people feel safe to fellowship and unite in worship. My prayer is that churches everywhere become more outwardly focused instead of inwardly focused. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i>365 million orphans in this world, while the church is building coffee shops. May God awaken our hearts to revival not caffeine.</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>Here are my top 3 Utterly Ridiculous Church Confessions. </b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">1). I pop beano into my children's mouths like it is candy before church. While the congregation is praying, I am normally praying one of my kids don't drop a smelly bomb in the middle of service, like they do most everywhere else. I normally have my roll on perfume ready and my fragrance hand sanitizer ready just in case they decide to drop a bomb. If one does get dropped, I just casually apply the hand sanitizer to my hands and pray it helps disguise the smell. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">2). I attend mega churches so I don't have to socialize. Pathetic? Yes, I know. I am well known for showing up late, leaving early, and sitting in the back nearest the exit. I am not saying I am proud of this. I know it’s ridiculous and utterly childish, but I just can't help it. I have the personality where everyone asks me to do this and lead that, and I just struggle with the concept of just saying NO. I try and tell my children to not mention what their mother does for a living, for fear they will have me come speak in some women’s group, make a video, lead a small group, do some mission special, or head up some children's programs. Is this selfish? Probably. I just get exhausted because in this family, we can’t help but make a scene pretty much wherever we go, and people always want to know "OUR STORY." Next thing I know it people want to know how to adopt, how I can afford having so many children, why I am still single, etc. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">3). I text in church. Not proud of it, and I don't recommend it. Ever since it was cool to open your Bible using the YouVersion BIBLE APP on your iPhone, I have found that it has also been so tempting to catch up on an email or a text message. I have had text conversations with my pastor’s wife, and other friends who are pastors’ wives in the middle of church, so obviously I’m not the only one that is guilty in this area. I normally don't text when my Pastor is speaking, but when there is a guest speaker… GUILTY! </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Well there you have it….my Top 3 Church Confessions. Thank God his mercy is new every morning!</span></div>
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</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i>For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you. Just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. - Romans 12:3-5 </i></b></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305918071455739536noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507635326801705652.post-70066481571848481492011-11-14T20:33:00.001-08:002014-05-16T09:04:42.017-07:00Just another case of UNSOLVED MYSTERIES<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>Just Another Case of Unsolved Mysteries</b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> This blog is hard for me to write because frankly I am not proud of it. As parent’s we all have <i>pet peeves </i>and one of my biggest ones is not being able to walk down the hallways in my home. I just don’t understand how they get so messy. For example, where does all this shredded paper come from? There is always that one sock and hair bow that magically appears, and of course no one knows where it came from. Out of my entire baseball team, choir, cheerleading squad, and drama team no one will own up to anything that is in the hallway. I can feel my heart beating faster as I trip on a lego and find one of my kid’s underwear lying in the middle of the floor. Can someone please tell me how my important paper just happens to be in the hallway all crinkled up? </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Keeping a house clean with a massive amount of kids is no easy task. I have spent years trying to find that perfect solution. I feel as if I have tried everything and begged God for creative ideas. However, the weird thing is there are always things showing up, or what we like to call <b>"Unsolved Mysteries."</b> I hate even asking the kids who did it, because I am not interested in hearing them deny and point blame on someone else. Do the kids just throw whatever they don’t know what to do with in the hallway? I apparently need to install video cameras or those baby monitors that show video in all my rooms!</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">My second biggest pet peeve is my pillow. The other night in Haiti, I went to lay down and couldn't find it. I started to throw my hands up because all I want to do after a long hard day is rest and sleep with my pillow. My pillow constantly gets stolen, and on this particular evening I was at my breaking point. I don't demand much. I slept on a roof top in Haiti for almost three years so I don't need the comforts of this world. I can sleep in a rocking chair and rock babies all night, but the one thing my tired self desires is for a pillow. Some mom's need peace when they use the restroom, and I just need my pillow.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> My pillow somehow ministers to my aching, stressed out to the max body. I walked from bedroom to bedroom with my flashlight determined to find my pillow (this wasn't one of my finest mommy moments). I began to wake everyone up proclaiming that it is so hard to live with kids who break, destroy, and ruin everything, and all I want is my pillow. I began to announce that my kids can have anything they want, but do not take MY PILLOW!!!!! The Lord knew that I was losing it and thanks be to Him I eventually found it. Someone decided to use it to mop up water in a bathroom from a toilet that overflowed, and of course it was a mystery as to who did this. It is pretty sad that I have to hide my pillow, but oh the joys of motherhood.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Below is a list of all our “Current Mysteries.” If you know or have heard about any of the following whereabouts, please help this ever growing list of mysteries that are unsolved.</span></div>
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<li style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">- Where did all these candy wrappers come from?? I don't even buy candy from the store? </span><span style="font-family: Times; letter-spacing: 0px;"><br />
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<li style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">- Why is there an apple on the tank of my toilet? Seriously, this one concerns me! </span><span style="font-family: Times; letter-spacing: 0px;"><br />
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<li style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">- Why are there more toothbrushes on the bathroom counter than there are children in my house???? Are we brushing dolls teeth now? </span><span style="font-family: Times; letter-spacing: 0px;"><br />
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<li style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">- How do all (and I mean ALL) the lights in the house get turned on??? Even the closet under the stairs?? </span><span style="font-family: Times; letter-spacing: 0px;"><br />
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<li style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">- What happened to all the 7, 8, and 9 multiplication flash cards? For some reason, we only have 0, 1, 2, and 3 flash cards. </span><span style="font-family: Times; letter-spacing: 0px;"><br />
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<li style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">- Where did all my pens go? </span><span style="font-family: Times; letter-spacing: 0px;"><br />
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<li style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">- Why do I even buy games? All the pieces mysteriously disappear! </span><span style="font-family: Times; letter-spacing: 0px;"><br />
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<li style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">- Why are my belts and scarves being used as leashes for your dolls? Do we need to enter into therapy again? </span><span style="font-family: Times; letter-spacing: 0px;"><br />
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<li style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">- Who keeps stealing my Sharpee markers? </span><span style="font-family: Times; letter-spacing: 0px;"><br />
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<li style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">- Who stole my pillow this time? </span><span style="font-family: Times; letter-spacing: 0px;"><br />
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<li style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">- Where is my hairbrush (and no I am not singing a version of veggie tales)? </span><span style="font-family: Times; letter-spacing: 0px;"><br />
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<li style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">- Why is there a Puma sock that always reappears in our bathroom? I have never seen anyone wearing the match. </span><span style="font-family: Times; letter-spacing: 0px;"><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Please tell me I am not the only one with <b>“Unsolved Mysteries”</b> in their home??? I would love to hear your stories. Praying that God gives us all the grace we need today as we continue to live this crazy but wonderful life of parenting. </span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305918071455739536noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507635326801705652.post-86630988943691428442011-11-10T08:44:00.001-08:002014-05-16T09:03:13.938-07:00Keeping Faith <span style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; letter-spacing: 0px; text-align: center;">Keeping Faith</span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I am sitting on a rooftop in Haiti writing this now, and my heart hurts deeply this night. I can't even begin to accurately express my heart wrenching day. I can still smell the wood from the little small coffin that was built, and the sounds of the hammer beating the nails into the coffin still haunt me. I can still smell the dirt as I watched our workers dig a deep hole. I tried to hide my pain, but couldn't help the tears that seemed to flow so freely as I watched one of our babies being lowered into the ground. I could barely stand as I watched them cover her tiny casket with dirt. Thankfully there was a chair nearby, but once I sat down, I realized just how exhausted I really was. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">They planted a palm tree where baby Faith was buried, and even though this tree was meant to honor baby Faith, it just didn't seem right. No mother should have to bury their child. As I walked down the pathway to our mission home, it felt like a journey without end. I still can't help but replay the images….bathing her lifeless body…getting her dressed in the prettiest dress I could find…searching for the softest blanket I could find…having to force her eyes closed, as my hands shook. Wiping the blood that seemed to just be draining from her tiny body….trying to see through my tears as I put little frilly socks on her tiny feet. Oh how my heart hurts. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I broke down as I saw each one of my Haitian kids place their favorite toy and stuffed animal into her coffin, already filled with letters from my kids and beautiful pictures they had colored. Today was a day of mourning. Someone emailed me and told me I should throw a party and celebrate her life, but somehow throwing a party for a baby who only had the chance to live for a couple months didn't feel right. There is a time for mourning and this is definitely that time. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Baby Faith died at 1:05PM today… in the arms of her loving nurse and her favorite caregiver who happens to be a pastor’s wife. She now rests safely in the arms of her daddy God. I can see her smiling and waving her arms, and I am reassured that baby Faith is no longer in pain. She suffered from Hydrocephalus and was scheduled for a lifesaving surgery in January, but unfortunately, it just wasn't soon enough. She was one of our babies that we had placed in our nursery for the terminally ill. For those of you who may not be aware, we have started a hospice nursery for Haitian babies in honor of my late mother. We of course fight for their lives both medically and through prayer... but if for some reason they do die, they die with full bellies, cherished, and in the arms of family. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We have a scripture on our wall in our office at the mission, and it reads: "We walk by Faith, not by Sight." - 2 Corinthians 5:7. Even when things don't turn out the way we hope, we are reminded, encouraged, and commanded to always Keep the Faith, even through the darkest of nights.</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305918071455739536noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507635326801705652.post-74464999278834280892011-09-11T17:48:00.000-07:002014-04-09T19:26:07.354-07:00I Killed the Tooth Fairy<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /><br />So I am officially the worst mommy in the world. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Maybe there is a badge I can wear!?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b>I killed the tooth fairy last night. Yes, the tooth fairy is dead now, well at least in my home the tooth fairy is dead. </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I grew up in a house where We didn't believe in the tooth fairy. When we lost a tooth it was like </span><i style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">"oh gross, throw it away please!" </i><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Unfortunately, that lack of compassion for teeth that I experienced growing up passed down to me. Honestly, I cringe through my crooked smile as my children come running to me with beaming toothless smiles,</span><i style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> "mommy, mommy- look I just lost a tooth!" </i><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> They hold this <i>bloody </i>tooth in front of me, and I am silently responding with an ugh! Yes, I play the nice mommy role and respond with,</span><i style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> "oh thats great woo hoo!" </i><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> Now you may be reading this thinking I'm just heartless. I have been parenting for 14 years now. I am sure there was a time (maybe) I wasn't so heartless towards teeth. I just seriously think teeth are gross! I can't be the only mommy out there that feels this way. I know some people don't like feet, well feet don't bother me like teeth do! I don't know if I am just traumatized from all the dentist appointments I have had to go through with all my children or exactly why I am this way. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I remember one of the adoptive parents came to visit their child in Haiti- and their daughter lost a tooth. I remember how sweet the father was and he was so excited that he felt like he got to experience this memory with her. I watched him sweetly wrap up his daughters tooth while taking pictures from his phone trying to capture the beauty of the moment. I was completely <b>convicted</b> by his amazing <i>"daddy tooth fairy role!"</i> If only I had "<i><b>tooth</b> compassion"</i> like his! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">So it is official, the tooth fairy is no longer living in my home. The tooth fairy didn't just retire, it<i> died.</i> I can't keep up with being the tooth fairy. <b>I am a horrible tooth fairy.</b> My kids all came to me believing in the tooth fairy. As a young adoptive mommy, I didn't want to crush their excitement, so I played this exhausting game for years and years. <i>Oh the stories I could tell! </i> The tooth fairy has caused more <b><i>drama</i></b> in my home and even some strife. So I officially announced that the tooth fairy no longer lives. <b>I will count my children's teeth and Pre- PAY!</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /><b>Top Tooth Fairy Drama of the Month:</b><br />Forgot to "visit" Annelysia last night! <i>Oh the drama!</i> Oh how she is feeling so very neglected by me. :(<br /><br />Last week Camden decided to switch beds with his twin sister, so I visited the wrong kid. Once Madison woke up she announced <i>"I owed her"</i> also for a time last year when I forgot! So Camden comes to me wanting to collect his tooth fairy money as well, since he is a twin to Madison! <b>Ridiculous! My kids can't bill me for teeth they have lost! </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b>I just simply can't keep track!</b><br />I accidentally gave a child in our mission a ten dollar bill instead of a one dollar bill... I've never seen a child more excited to lose teeth.<br /><br />Victoria decided to teach all the Haitian children about the tooth fairy! Grrrrrrr I can't even begin to tell you how many teeth we lose every week. Oh and they all want to save their teeth! If a tooth gets lost, <i>oh the tears.</i> I found myself in the dirt two weeks ago looking for a<i> "lost tooth."</i> We never did find that lost tooth. :(<br /><br />Praying today that your<i> "tooth fairy"</i> adventures turn out better then mine!<br /><br />Love, a very tired and officially retired- <i>buried</i> in the ground <b><i>tooth fairy mommy</i></b>,<br /><br />Heather Elyse</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305918071455739536noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507635326801705652.post-36708892091852895192011-09-10T19:24:00.001-07:002014-05-16T09:02:06.637-07:00Holding Grace<br />
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At 7:11 our Grace went into the arms of Jesus. There are just no words that can quite express my heart right now. She died in my arms and surrounded by my children and several of our older Haitian children that are being adopted. She died listening to worship music as we all poured our tears and prayers over her. I will never forget the day I met Grace. Her young mother was desperate and on her way to throw her into the ocean. Her mother was just a child herself....only 15. Grace suffered from Hydrocephalus. I came outside and saw two missionaries and two Haitian directors deny Grace saying they couldn't take her in. I of course was horrified that they denied her, and Scooped her into my arms and began to visit with the mom. The very people that denied her told me I was crazy for taking in a child that would die. They explained that I would be responsible paying for the funeral, medical care, medicine etc. They tried to warn me saying that this mission would look bad having a child die. I of course didn't listen to them, and told them they should remember why they are in Haiti, and what being a Christian really means. I went ahead and made the decision to take her in with the mothers agreement that she would go before the judge, sign our creche requirements a d papers, sign our integrity agreement, and provide a birth certificate. The mother fulfilled her promise and was very grateful that we did everything we could to save her. We have kept in touch with mom and have had the opportunity to minister to her on several occasions. We had a mission team visiting us that day and they quickly began to clean her, feed her, and make her as comfortable as they could. We took Grace to the hospital that day and we were told by the doctor that there was nothing they could do for her, and that she would die. They provided us with a medical certificate stating she needed to go to the US due to Haiti not being able to help her. As we were in the hospital a little girl died all alone in the middle of a hallway, while we were there waiting for the doctor to get us information. One minute she was alive and we were loving on her, and within thirty minutes she died. She had blood all over her. She was filthy and was an orphan by abandonment. She suffered from multiple things including Aids. I couldn't help but touch her and whisper into her ears.... I so wanted to scoop her little body into my arms, clean her, wipe the blood, and just simply hold her. No child should have to die alone in a hospital bed without someone mourning and pouring love over them. So I wept for her that day. I mourned for that precious innocent child that died all alone, in the middle of a hallway, in a hospital bed. We ended up taking home another little orphan baby that day who we were told by the doctor, would die. He had heard we had just become a legal Creche in Haiti and had asked us to take her. She was six months old and only four lbs. Diagnosed with HIV, congested heart failure just to name a few. After the medical director signed papers for us to get her, she was released into our arms. We named her Hope. As we were on our way back from the hospital with our baby Grace and now our baby Hope, I had just gotten the call that my mother didn't have very long to live, and that I needed to come home. So when we arrived back to the mission, we booked a ticket back home. That morning my mother went home to be with Jesus, after a long battle with cancer. I told my staff that morning that we would open up a terminally ill nursery for haitian children, and name it after my mom... And a week later that is exactly what we did. We have a full-time nurse that runs it, and we just hired a doctor. We are basically like a Hospice here in Haiti. Grace was our first child in our nursery that now can care for terminally ill Haitian babies. Someone asked me the other day why I would take a child in that is suppose to die and my answer is this: I would not just take a child in that is suppose to die, but I would adopt one. I will die trying to help save them. I of course believe in miracles and have experienced Gods healing Power. So my Faith can move mountains. We of course always believe for healing. If the child is about to die, then at least that child will die having a family that completely adores them. Grace died with a full belly, she loved her new crib, new toys, her special pillow, loved being touched, and completely cherished. She loved it when we would sing over her, and one of her favorite nannies would dance with her. Grace loved getting baths and loved her build a bear bunny that her family back in Oklahoma bought her. She had a family in Oklahoma that completely adored her and considered Grace theirs. This amazing family had found a surgeon that agreed to give free surgeries. This family had told the US embassy that they would be her host home and handle all the costs. Grace was scheduled to arrive in Oklahoma next week on a medical visa. Holding Grace when she died made me realize that .... She was worth it. She was worth all the work, research, time, money and blood, sweat and tears... LOTS OF TEARS... and I would do it all again. We bathed her one last time this morning, put on the most beautiful little dress. She loves to have her feet washed and massaged...and special lotion. So this morning we did this one last time pouring our tears upon her as we literally washed her feet. We all our completely heart broken, but we choose to fall on our knees and worship our sweet Jesus. Dear Father God, just as we washed Grace's feet this morning we wash yours. I dry them with my hair and I minister to your heart. We just want to touch and feel your heart beating, catch your tears, and take care of your precious orphans. Wrap your healing arms around all those close to Grace right now. We are desperate for more of you and we are nothing without you. Thank you for your Grace! We need your Grace everyday. I know you are holding Grace right now and I thank you for the opportunity here on earth to simply be YOU in the physical. Her funeral is scheduled this Wednesday here in Haiti.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305918071455739536noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507635326801705652.post-41145339779204293042011-05-08T20:38:00.000-07:002014-07-15T21:23:15.107-07:00My Top 3 Church Confessions<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
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<span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">My Top 3 Church Confessions</span></div>
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Yes, I love God. Always have, always will. It's my faith that has gotten me through this insane journey, otherwise known as my life. </div>
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But I have a confession to make...I don't like church. Never have, probably never will.</div>
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Maybe it’s because I grew up as a pastor’s kid. I was forced to sit in the front row, where I felt like all eyes were always upon me. I hated living in this glass house that was created for me. Church to me felt like a performance, not some <span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Holy Experience. </span> Now for the record, I was never one of those wild pastors’ daughters. The most I ever did was chew gum in church, well, that and take two communion cups of grape juice (but then, hasn’t everyone done that a time or twelve?). </div>
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Maybe it’s because getting this many children ready every Sunday morning has been years of complete exhaustion. </div>
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I am convinced my Pastor needs to have a special handicapped parking space just for me. Because after getting that many kids ready and out the door, by the time I pull into the church parking lot, I am feeling pretty well disabled. Sometimes I think people need to just have a wheel chair ready for me, so after I get my kids dropped off and signed into their appropriate classes they can just wheel me in. I sit down most of the time during worship, not out of irreverence, but out of pure exhaustion. If you ever saw me crying in church, most likely it wasn't because I was touched by the Holy Spirit. ;) </div>
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Thank God my parents taught me what it was to have a relationship with God, not just some Sunday morning experience. I am forever grateful for them teaching me what a quiet time was, how to hear that still small voice, and encouraged me to search out scriptures that provide the daily guidance for our lives. Even though our family was and is known for its extreme dysfunction, I am at least grateful my parents taught us about the heart of God. That overshadows all the rest. </div>
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I have learned that church is not a religion, it's a building. The Pastor is not God, nor should he ever be placed on some pedestal. It's a man trying to lead by example, the best that he knows how, both on Sunday and throughout the week. He or she will make mistakes and when they do, the sun will still shine, Big Bird will still be yellow, and God is still on the throne. I mean that's what Forgiveness is for... right? </div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I am convinced the church should not worry about its seating capacity, but its sending capacity.</span></span></div>
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Church is supposed to be a place where people feel safe to fellowship and unite in worship. My prayer is that churches everywhere become more outwardly focused instead of inwardly focused. </div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">365 million orphans in this world, while the church is building coffee shops. May God awaken our hearts to revival not caffeine.</span></span></div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Here are my top 3 Utterly Ridiculous Church Confessions. </span></div>
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1). I pop beano into my children's mouths like it is candy before church. While the congregation is praying, I am normally praying one of my kids don't drop a smelly bomb in the middle of service, like they do most everywhere else. I normally have my roll on perfume ready and my fragrance hand sanitizer ready just in case they decide to drop a bomb. If one does get dropped, I just casually apply the hand sanitizer to my hands and pray it helps disguise the smell. </div>
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2). I attend mega churches so I don't have to socialize. Pathetic? Yes, I know. I am well known for showing up late, leaving early, and sitting in the back nearest the exit. I am not saying I am proud of this. I know it’s ridiculous and utterly childish, but I just can't help it. I have the personality where everyone asks me to do this and lead that, and I just struggle with the concept of just saying NO. I try and tell my children to not mention what their mother does for a living, for fear they will have me come speak in some women’s group, make a video, lead a small group, do some mission special, or head up some children's programs. Is this selfish? Probably. I just get exhausted because in this family, we can’t help but make a scene pretty much wherever we go, and people always want to know "OUR STORY." Next thing I know it people want to know how to adopt, how I can afford having so many children, why I am still single, etc. </div>
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3). I text in church. Not proud of it, and I don't recommend it. Ever since it was cool to open your Bible using the YouVersion BIBLE APP on your iPhone, I have found that it has also been so tempting to catch up on an email or a text message. I have had text conversations with my pastor’s wife, and other friends who are pastors’ wives in the middle of church, so obviously I’m not the only one that is guilty in this area. I normally don't text when my Pastor is speaking, but when there is a guest speaker…<span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> GUILTY! </span></div>
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Well there you have it….my Top 3 Church Confessions. Thank God his mercy is new every morning!</div>
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<br /><span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="border: 0px; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you. Just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. - Romans 12:3-5 </span></span></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305918071455739536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507635326801705652.post-58731078045501328942011-05-08T20:22:00.000-07:002014-07-15T21:20:35.017-07:00Adoption Etiquette (My Personal Top 5)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Adoption Etiquette</span>: (My Personal Top 5)</div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">1). Biological vs Adopted</span></div>
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Do not refer to your child as the "adopted child." Do not refer to your child as the "biological child." If your name is on the birth certificate or adoption decree, then just claim them as your children. Someone once had the audacity to ask me if these are my real children. I didn't know how to respond so I just gently pinched my children real quick and said "Yep, these are my real children.” When people in the public say ignorant things, just shake it off and make sure the heart of your child is honored over what strangers think. Unite your biological and adopted children and become one family.</div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">2). Adoptive Mother vs Mother</span></div>
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Do not refer to yourself as the “adoptive mom” or the “adoptive dad”. I had a precious friend that would always refer to herself as the adoptive mother when she would sign for things in school or fill out applications. Being just Mom or Dad is perfectly acceptable and highly recommended. There is no need to place the adoption label on your name. </div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">3). Children vs Labels</span></div>
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If your child struggles with any kind of behavior issues, do not add that label to them. For example, many people call their child “my RADS child”. Try and separate the label from the child. I know it’s hard, but your child isn't the behavior. Your child may suffer from Reactive Attachment Disorder and may be diagnosed as RADS, however please try to refer to them as the healed, whole, redeemed, and precious child that they are. Separate them from the label. If you know someone that struggles with a porn addiction, you wouldn't refer to the person as Porn Bill, right? Give your child the room they need to heal.</div>
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One day your child will be an adult and they won't want to Google themselves to find that their parents talked openly about their behaviors, personal details about their adoption, etc. Make sure to leave your child an appropriate legacy. Don't be venting about your child using their names on your blogs and social media sites. Respect their privacy. If you are like me, and use your personal struggles to help others, make sure that you do not attach your child’s name to your stories. Also, don't post anything that your child wouldn't approve one day. I have many stories about my kids that I will take to the grave with me. I have had many ask me to share all my specific adoption stories through blogs, but this is something I will not do out of simple respect for my children. I may make reference to them from time to time, but no one will ever know what child belongs to what reference or story. </div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">5). Announcing Your Adoption vs Surprise Adoption</span></div>
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I have always had a rule that I wouldn't post any pictures of my adopted child until after a year or two of the finalization of their adoption. I am known for not announcing my adoptions until years later. I would encourage you to not post pictures of your child when you are in the adoption process. Many adoptions fail, and there is so many things that could go wrong in any adoption process. I have so many friends who set up adoption fundraiser sites and blog all the time about their adoption journey, but I would encourage you to limit the pictures until the child is actually in your custody. Adoption is already an emotional roller coaster; I would not recommend taking all your friends and family on the ride with you. It will only cause more questions, expectations, and drama. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305918071455739536noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507635326801705652.post-40899686415334809042011-04-21T13:18:00.000-07:002014-05-16T09:10:59.963-07:00Dear Child, I miss you. Love, God<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
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Originally Written 4/21/2011 at 1:18pm in Montrouis, Haiti</div>
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t's a hot afternoon in Haiti. </div>
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I am exhausted.</div>
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I am currently sleeping on this "rooftop" so I can hear all the children’s’ cries. I have been up for the past few nights making sure some sick babies made it through the night. I am currently sleep training a bunch of Haitian children as well! </div>
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My very first child we helped rescue is Eliana. Baby Eliana is 7 months old now. I have had her since birth. </div>
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She is gently sleeping on me. My heart is hurting for the precious Haitian people. </div>
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I am confessing publicly that is has been a few weeks since I was able to really have a quiet time with the Lord. I got so busy with schooling my kids, and with running the organization, that I haven't had the time needed with my sweet Jesus. I even lost my Bible! </div>
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I have been missing my Bible reading time! I think I know what happened to it, but that's another story for another time. Thank God my sweet friend Natasha came to my rescue and sent me another BIBLE!!! (Thank you!) </div>
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As I gaze down at sweet baby Ellie, I can hear my darling kids in the background memorizing their spelling words. It's so hot here, but sometimes a cool breeze comes through and it’s like stepping in a cool stream. I can't help but tear up as Eliana gently sleeps peacefully in my arms. (Maybe it’s because I need a nap and I am a bit over emotional!) Eliana looks so content in my arms, her belly is full and she obviously feels safe. Her every need is met now. She knows that when she cries I will hear her and come running to her rescue. </div>
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I hear the Lord whisper into my ears as I gaze upon her... </div>
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I hear him say....</div>
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My arms are waiting to hold you just like you are holding Eliana.</div>
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My eyes gaze upon you like you do with her. </div>
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I can’t help but weep for you. </div>
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Oh how I miss you. </div>
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The times we danced across your bedroom floor. </div>
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The times you would sneak downstairs and sit at My feet and just listen. </div>
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The times you would spread your blanket and worship. </div>
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I miss the times you would crawl into My lap and just be still.</div>
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How could I forget the day you decided to let Me inside of your heart?</div>
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Do you remember the times we would talk all night? </div>
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I miss those journals and letters you would write to Me. </div>
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I miss the time when you reached out and grabbed the hem of My garment and wouldn’t let go. </div>
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I will never forget the times you washed My feet with your tears and dried them with your hair. </div>
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You touched My heart. </div>
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Oh how I long for those times again.</div>
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I long for the day you will finally trust Me with everything.</div>
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I am the one that can meet your every need, heal, forgive, and restore.</div>
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One of my favorite stories is about a man who was so in love with this woman. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He had a date with her at a small cafe outside of the city. As he sat there drinking his coffee waiting for her to enter the cafe, he kept thinking about how much he loved her. How he longs to be with her. Time went by and she never showed. The waitress tried to persuade this man to move on and find someone else. But, this man was loyal and said that this woman was worth it all. This was the fourth night in a row that she stood him up. The cafe was about to close and there sat this man still drinking his coffee waiting for her to come through those doors. She never showed. The man paid for his coffee and asked the waitress to hold the table for the next night. The waitress begged the man to give up on this woman, claiming that there were plenty of other women that wouldn’t treat him this badly. But, the man gently shook his head and said...no she is worth it. Just as the man left the cafe, the woman he was waiting for just got dropped off by friends. She had decided to go and hang out with friends that evening. She was tired from her fun evening and decided to go straight to bed. As she pulled the covers over herself and was about to turn out the light near her bed she saw a note that read: TIME WITH GOD… 7:00PM…. She quietly thought, “Oh no, I missed it again…oh well, there is always tomorrow night.” </div>
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God is that man. He is so in love with us that He is waiting for us to dine with Him and commune with Him daily. He loves us so much that He died for us, sacrificed it all so that we could be free. We serve a God who can open blind eyes, free the captives and move mountains!</div>
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God is gently wooing us back to Him. It’s time for us to go back to the day we first met Him. We can get so caught up in our crazy busy lives that sometimes we even forget to acknowledge Him. He is there when we wake up waiting for us to say good morning. He wants to commune with us all day long. As a mother of, well, a whole lot of kids(!), things are busy...I mean really busy. I will never forget the day I was in my Indiana home and we were all going through a really rough grieving time. My heart was hurting and I honestly was too depressed to move. I felt the Lord walk into my house and completely take over. He filled in for me while I was hurting. He held me and got me to a place where I could function again and be the mother and minister I am called to be. </div>
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I heard God tell me years ago, that if I invited Him into my busy day of parenting He would do miracles. My days with my kids always go smoother when I first allow God to go before me. When I let Him walk right into my home, and my kids and I seem to always find more time to read and touch the heart of God. Now of course, I still have rough days but I know that I can always get on my knees that night and ask God to intervene, and He always does. Just like my sweet baby girl always trusts that I will hear her cries. We need to trust that God hears our cries. It’s time we crawl in the arms of Jesus and let Him hold us. God is wooing us back to Him. He is whispering into our ears. Can you hear Him? </div>
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I waited patiently for the Lord; he turned to me and heard my cry…..He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand….. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear the Lord and put their trust in him. – Psalm 40: 1-3</div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">This is a sneak peak of Chapter 1 from our book coming out called: Table For Nine</span><br />
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<span style="color: rgb(100.000000%, 15.294120%, 7.058824%); font-family: 'Helvetica'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">The Night I Met My Father
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">by Mackenzie Elyse and family</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">I will never forget the first day with my adoptive family. My mother told us she was taking
us to a fancy restaurant for a “family night.” I remember walking into this classy
restaurant and hearing her say, "A table for nine, please.” I was a bit confused, because
I counted, and there were only seven adopted kids, plus one single momma. I had
heard my new mom was a bit eccentric, so I just thought this was one of her moments.
</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica'; font-size: 12.000000pt; font-style: oblique;">Shouldn't we have gotten a table for eight? </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">I thought to myself. I counted one more time,
and was simply confused.
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">As we all sat down, my mom saved a place for someone right next to her. I began
looking around, wondering who in the world was meeting us for dinner. Who was joining
us for our “family night?" At the time, I was too scared to even talk, so I just sat there
curiously, wondering what was going on and expecting someone to join us for dinner.
My mother ordered the food, smiling and carrying on as if nothing was wrong. She
began to seriously get on my nerves, and then I couldn't take it anymore. I had to find
out who she was saving the seat for. I will never forget the words that came out of her
mouth. "Kids, I want to introduce you to your Father. I have invited Him to have dinner
with us tonight, and would like to tell you all about Him."
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">I was shocked. </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica'; font-size: 12.000000pt; font-style: oblique;">I thought my new mother was single! </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">I quickly glanced back at the door,
expecting a man to walk in. I was stunned as my mother began to talk about a man who
would never leave or forsake us. She talked about His heart and His character. She
began to describe how He had saved her life, and continued telling us all about Him.
She said she would like to introduce Him to us. I will never forget that moment. The
tears just fell from my eyes. I had become so numb, and this was the first time I could
feel again.
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">As she began to describe who He was, I felt as if I had already met Him. It was a
familiar feeling. I can’t describe it, but there were many (and I mean </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica'; font-size: 12.000000pt; font-style: oblique;">many) </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">nights when
I lay bleeding and in pain, and yet felt His presence. I had wanted so much to just die,
so that the pain would stop. When I say “pain,” I mean </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica'; font-size: 12.000000pt; font-style: oblique;">severe </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">pain. My body was used
as a cutting board. I not only felt physical pain, as my biological
parents would do horrors to me, but I felt such deep heart pain. There were many nights
when I felt as if someone was carrying me, keeping me warm, and whispering words of
hope into my ear. I then realized, as my mother began to describe this person she had
saved a seat for, this man she claimed to be my father, was the same person who had
held me, wiped my tears, and mended my open wounds.
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">That night, in a restaurant in Tulsa, Oklahoma, I met a Man who has forever changed
my life. He has truly healed me. He is my Father and my Doctor. With tears I accepted
Jesus into my heart that night. I will never forget the evening when God came to dinner
with us and I officially met Him. I will never forget the prayer and tears streaming down
my newly adoptive mother's face as she introduced us to the Man who had once healed
her as well. I will never forget the embrace I received from my mother – I didn’t want to
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">let her go. I didn't just feel her arms around me, but God's arms. When she prayed and
cried over me, I promise you this, I saw my Father God in her eyes. I didn’t just get
adopted by a new family – I got adopted by a Father who knows how many hairs are
upon my head. To think that I was once the abused child whose story was plastered all
over national television.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">I will never forget the day my caseworker told my mom not to adopt me because I was
too old, too much work, and too sick. I will never forget turning on the news and hearing
the reporter say I had one of the most severe cases of sexual abuse, in which the child
actually survived, that she had ever heard of. I remember listening to my teacher as she
told my mom that I was considered mentally retarded because I couldn’t read or write at
age eleven. I remember listening to my foster parents whisper about how “homely”
looking I was, and how messed up my body and teeth were. I remember when my peers
at school would tell me they weren’t allowed to play with me because they were afraid to
catch a disease or that I would hurt them.
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">I write this to say that God still performs signs, wonders, and miracles. I am now a
daughter of the King. I was once lost, but now I am found. I was ashes turned into
beauty. I was once damaged and broken, and now am restored and whole. God is
reaching His hands out to you today. He has seen your tears, He has cried with you.
Let him heal and restore you.
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica'; font-size: 12.000000pt;">I will never forget the day when my mom said the words, “A table for nine, please.” </span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305918071455739536noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507635326801705652.post-73542266214237406062010-08-24T06:01:00.000-07:002014-06-12T20:44:14.916-07:00Confessions of a Missionary Part 1<div style="border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; max-width: 99.9000015258789%; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
Confessions of a Missionary: Part 1</div>
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It was a cool spring Sunday morning, and our church had just announced that the last Sunday of every month would now be a “Mission Sunday.” I was intrigued as I sat in the first row, pretending to be completely engaged in the sermon that had since begun. My mind lingered on the particular announcement about the mission trips our church would begin doing every summer. The pastor had just announced that this year, there were three mission trips to choose from, and that missionaries would be coming to speak to us on each “Mission Sunday.” I grabbed my Bible and quickly stuck the church bulletin in the spot where I was supposed to be reading along with the pastor. I think he was preaching on Ephesians that morning, but I honestly don’t quite remember because my mind was racing. My eyes eagerly scrolled down the church bulletin, and there it was – a list of three mission trips in three different countries, open to all who were interested! I guess I was making a little too much noise, because I remember getting a pinch from my mother who was sitting next to me. It was as if my mother knew I needed some extra attention. She could have chosen any of my four siblings to sit with, but for some reason she always felt the need to sit by me.</div>
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Now, maybe I forgot to mention that the pastor just happened to be my father. And yep, we were sitting in the front row, where my mom liked to gently pinch us if we were misbehaving during the service. She quickly took away the bulletin I had become so engrossed in and gave me “the look.” So, I sat there staring at the pages of my Bible as my mind continued to race. I began to wonder which mission trip my best friends, Sara, Grace, and Shannon would go on. I wondered if there was an age limit. I wondered how I would pay for it. I even began to daydream about packing the new camera I had just received for my birthday, and started thinking through all the outfits I was going to pack. Next thing I knew, my mother was pinching me again, as it was time to stand up for the closing prayer.</div>
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At that age, my views of a missionary were romanticized and completely warped. I had glamorized the word <span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">missionary </span>and assumed that all missionaries did was live in third- world countries and gracefully save the nation while wearing all the cool native outfits. I still vividly remember all the missionaries my father invited to visit the church. They all dressed in those bright, colorful native outfits. They stood in front of the congregation and showed slides of all their adventures overseas. It seemed like they were living out a real-life adventure movie. I remember the stories they told, and had listened closely as they talked about the country and its stark differences from America. I remember my father always taking up a special offering for them afterwards, and how we would pray a “sending out” prayer of safety and blessings. I remember seeing Diana, the woman who always had this outrageous reddish-orange hair color and always sat behind me, dry her eyes and put away her checkbook after being so moved by the stories. I remember staring at the bright, colorful tables that were set up, and how I would spend at least five minutes trying to decide what to spend my babysitting money on. It was quite the decision at the time, deciding whether I wanted the colorful bracelet or the small coin purse. I remember signing my name on the clipboard so that I would receive updates about all the missionary adventures.</div>
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I remember seeing all the colorful newsletters that would come in the mail. My mom would open them and sometimes even hang them on the fridge. Some missionaries sent “prayer cards” with their family portrait on the front. I was fascinated as I skimmed through all the newsletters, looking at pictures of the missionaries holding and smiling with native children who appeared so destitute. My parents would tell me stories of how I spent my younger years on the mission field while they held huge crusades, hosted medical clinics, and evangelized. I would look through all the pictures from those trips, but I honestly just couldn’t remember the exact details. I remember seeing pictures of myself as a young girl, handing out Christmas stockings filled with toiletries and special treats to needy children. Though I could still remember the taste of an orange Fanta out of a glass bottle (which we’d then have to return to the little drink stand) my memories of being on the mission field were quite vague. <span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Oh, how I wish I could experience the mission field as a young teenager,</span> I thought.</div>
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Well, let me skip forward a few months. I had just finished something called "World Blitz" at my church. I was about to leave on a trip to Bulgaria and Romania, and I had to go through a time of training. I remember looking the part. I had found my ugliest, oldest, stain-ridden clothes. I was rocking the fanny pack, the missionary braids, and even the missionary bandanna. I had my "Save the World Blitz" t-shirt on with my mismatching long skirt. If I remember right, I was also sporting a pair of Keds tennis shoes – and socks to match the t-shirt, of course! (Oh, and I am pretty sure I had the matching hair scrunchie as well!) I had taken out my earrings – heaven forbid they get stolen! I was ready to go save Bulgaria and Romania, and I had the t-shirt to prove it!</div>
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Well, I will never forget getting off the airplane and being completely ticked off, because all the Bulgarians looked and dressed nicer then me. I looked ridiculous. All I wanted to do was go shopping for new clothes. I was horrified when I realized that all I had prepared and packed was not what this country needed. Then it hit me. <span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Wait, why am I even here? Is it really for the people, or was it to fulfill some need inside of my heart? I mean, aren't we representing Christ and the very heart of God? Surely, even Jesus back in Bible times didn’t look as ridiculous as I did!</span> I remember feeling like a complete ragamuffin, going from church to church preaching the Gospel, all the while realizing there had to be more. I can almost guarantee you those churches wouldn’t remember me today! I began to ask myself the hard questions: 1) What is a missionary?, 2) What does God have to say about missionaries and how they should conduct themselves?, 3) What does it truly mean to be on the mission field?, and 4) What does the heart of God say about the missions?</div>
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I am thinking it's time for a new missionary handbook to be written. We must lay down this prideful missionary spirit that says, "We know best." The truth is that oftentimes, we <span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">don't</span> know best, and it’s time to allow God to teach us what it <span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">really </span>means to be on the mission field and what is looks like to be a missionary for Christ. So, join me as we journey through the heart of God and look at what the Scriptures say about the missions.</div>
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Until next time...Confessions of a Missionary: Part 2 (Coming Soon)</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305918071455739536noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507635326801705652.post-25402244062024415412010-04-20T16:58:00.001-07:002014-05-16T09:06:50.068-07:00My HUGE, MEGA MISHAP of the WEEK!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Dear Reader,</span></div>
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Have you ever had one of those days where you just wanted to press the rewind button? Do they even have rewind buttons anymore? Moving right along….I had one of those days yesterday. What I wouldn’t give for a Delete button that would allow me to just wipe certain parts of the day from my mind’s hard drive permanently. My cheeks are still flushed red from the extreme embarrassment. Being a single mom is difficult, and I don't have anyone to call when I get myself into these predicaments, so honestly my nerves are a bit shot and I remain a little stressed out even as I write this. I wish I could say what follows was exaggerated for laughs, but I assure you it's not. I hope that one day I will be able to look back and laugh at my single mom insanity.</span></div>
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My friend and dear sister Melissa came to visit us over the weekend. After an incredible time catching up and hanging out in Chicago, I was scheduled to take her to the airport yesterday so she could return home.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Her flight was leaving out of a city called Fort Wayne, which is located in a corn field that is still foreign land to me….Indiana. Well, my trusted navigation systems Mr. TOM TOM and my daughter’s friend Mr. Garmin didn't come through for me, and sure enough, we ended up in the middle of nowhere, and I have never seen so many dead end signs in my life. I firmly believe that “Dead End” is Dept. Of Transportation code for “loser”.</span></div>
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Melissa was just rolling her eyes and laughing nervously, a dead giveaway as to exactly how deep the frustration needle was buried over the fact she was going to miss her flight and we were completely lost. </span></div>
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Just when I thought things couldn't get worse, my daughter screams, "Mom, it says you have zero miles left!" Not to our destination, but to an empty fueI tank. I couldn't believe I had not filled up before I left. I remember telling myself I needed too, but didn't! I was beyond frustrated, but for some reason I just couldn't stop laughing. I am well known for making mental sticky notes in my head and then not following through with them. Or have you ever read a text message that someone sent you, and replied to it in your head, yet didn't actually text back? Well, I am famous for that. Okay, maybe I am the only bizarre one that does this. I personally blame it on my busy single mom lifestyle instead of the color of my hair dye. But I digress….</span></div>
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Now Melissa didn't find this predicament funny at all. She just started praying out loud, asking God to give us mercy and somehow rescue her from my stupidity. I began to drive like a mad woman looking for a gas station, but just found myself going in circles.... to make a long story short here are the next crazy events that took place.</span></div>
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<b>- We finally found the airport. Melissa was safely dropped off.<br />
- The vehicle died….in the Delta Airlines Departure Zone…. and gently “tapped" a security vehicle. (OUCH!)<br />
- I’ll never forget the officer asking “Ma’am, are all these kids yours?” If only you could’ve seen his face...priceless.<br />
-Of course it is impossible for that many children to exit a Dodge Durango without creating a scene, not to mention walking around trying to get a taxi that would fit all of us!<br />
-Once we found a taxi, we tried to cram all of us in the back! Which of course means another HUGE scene. Pretty sure that was majorly illegal! We are a two and three taxi family.<br />
-Our taxi driver looked like he was on America’s Most Wanted. (Dear Taxi Driver, I apologize for my judgment) He told me how much he "loved kids," and how I could just leave them in the car while I went inside a gas station to purchase a gas can. YEAH RIGHT!! I "sweetly" told him... “Um, NO!!”<br />
- So we made another scene as we piled out of the taxi car and headed into the gas station on our mission to obtain a gas can. Of course my girls are all matching wearing polka dots! We looked like the circus had come to town!<br />
-Once said gas can was purchased, we went to fill it up, but instead I ended up wearing most of it.<br />
- Soooo, back into the taxi cab, with mama smelling like gas. I am holding two kids in my lap while juggling my purse and gas can. We of course made another scene because suddenly we had trouble fitting everyone back into the cab. Adding fuel to the fire, my normally well obedient children decided to pick this particular moment to start arguing with each other. I finally just had to give them the, "I am about to go Pompeii” look, which is in every mother’s repertoire. My sweet son decided to drop a very fragrant "silent bomb" on all of us in the confines of the cab... by this time all I wanted was to be able to pinch myself and wake up from this nightmare of a day. Either that or crawl under the nearest rock. I’m not picky.<br />
- Eventually my older kids decided to all work together and hold kids on their laps, and we were off to go fill up our vehicle and go home.<br />
-We arrived at the airport and I paid the taxi driver (who decided to take financial advantage of me and my situation….of course you couldn’t blame him). I wasn't about to complain, I was just grateful to be back to the airport.<br />
-So here we are piling out of the taxi cab... for the last time. We walked over to our car, and I told the kids they had literally 10 seconds to get in the car, put their seat belts on, and keep quiet.<br />
- I spent a good 2 minutes trying to figure out how to take the cap off of the gas can that I had put on. Ridiculous, yes, I know. Eventually I mastered the concept of righty-tighty, lefty-loosey, filled up the tank with two gallons of petro, drove to a gas station, and filled up properly.</b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>-On the way home, we stopped at Chick-Fil-A and I let my kids order whatever they wanted... consider it a peace offering for my being so irritable! </b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">You may be wondering if there is a moral to this story, and there is…..several in fact…..</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>1). Turn down the "RIGHT" roads when traveling to unknown territory.<br />
2). Be nice to your kids when stressed. SWEETNESS OR SILENCE!!<br />
3). Don't throw your TOM TOM with an AUSTRALIAN accent out the window in a fit of frustration when it says REROUTING!!!<br />
4). Put gas lid back on gas can when putting gas can back into vehicle!<br />
5). PRAY! PRAY! PRAY!<br />
6). When traveling for long periods of time, give your children "beano" or some kind of gas medicine.</b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">No children, motorists, animals, luggage, automobiles, taxi drivers, gas station attendants, fast food employees, or adult siblings were harmed in the making of this post…..amazingly. And the stress points described herein have magically morphed into memories that I wouldn’t take a dollar and a quarter for. Find the joy in the journey, especially when you feel hopelessly lost! Happy Parenting!</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305918071455739536noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507635326801705652.post-59246532039675323422010-04-12T21:33:00.000-07:002014-05-15T22:42:40.107-07:00My Encounter with Batman<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">My Encounter with Batman</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I have always had a love/hate relationship with bats. I can handle spiders, lizards, bugs, rats, or any kind of critters, but bats literally freeze up all my moving parts. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">In our household we call bats...BATMAN. It’s a universal, one size fits all moniker.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Batman has come to visit us personally many times. I want to share with you my first encounter with Batman. I had no idea that when I bought this gorgeous Victorian home, built in the 1800's, that we had encroached on Batman, his cousin Vinny, and all his relatives. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I will never forget the first night I heard a screeching noise in my bathroom. I woke up thinking it was my son Alex who is known for trying to sneak in bed with me at night…it's like a game to him. He has this mental alarm clock that goes off at 3:00am and next thing I know, he is snuggled up to me the next morning. So of course I thought this was another attempt to sneak into my bed. I began to call out his name telling him he needed to get his little cutesy bumbosity out of my bathroom and go back to his own bed, and I remember telling him to wash his hands, assuming he was just using the restroom.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Well, I was wrong. Next thing I know, Batman comes flying in my room. He didn't even wash his hands. This was the first time I had ever seen Batman and he looked like a little demon/ gargoyle/ rat with wings! I thought I was seriously going to die. I jumped out of my bed and screamed like I had just won a prize on the Ellen show. I ran up to the stairs and could still see Batman flying frantically around my room. Next thing I know another bat flew across my head. We would later determine him to be Batman's cousin and name him Vinny. As I ascended the stairs I was beside myself, shaking and still screaming. I ran into my daughter’s room, jumped on her bed and threw the covers over my head. Of course, my kids were all awake by, roused by my ridiculous screaming, and gathered around me trying to calm me down. They of course were all perfectly fine, stroking my hand and trying to reassure me that this was just a bat and not a big deal. Next thing I see, Victoria comes out dressed like she was going into battle. She had put on our “Armor of God” plastic helmet, was carrying a plastic racket, and had a baseball bat in her other hand. Of course the baseball bat was some silly plastic thing shaped as a carrot (don't ask). She then loudly proclaims... "Mom, don't worry, I GOT THIS!" Then she goes marching off to defeat Batman. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Well, I am happy to report Batman, his cousin Vinny, sister Sally, Aunt Betty, wife Millie, and mistress Jezebel have all been defeated. I of course am still a little traumatized by these unexpected nocturnal visits, and I still have a little trouble sleeping in my room now...ok, maybe not a little….a lot! On more than one occasion, I have been rocking out the couch in the living room. I know…pathetic, right? I asked God the other day why is it that I can travel to the most dangerous countries, rescue lots of orphans, endure major persecution, and not be fearful. Yet a little scrawny disgusting BAT has more of an effect on me. I might need some therapy. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Batman has been officially banned from our household!!! :)</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Be strong and let your heart take courage, all you who hope in the LORD. – Psalm 31:24</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305918071455739536noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507635326801705652.post-15681782000240491832010-04-07T06:27:00.000-07:002014-05-16T08:58:28.286-07:00Confessions of a Former Foster Parent<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>Confessions of a Former Foster Parent</b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I was 20 years old and started calling my state to inquire about these government run shelters that I had heard about, and exactly what this "foster care" thing was all about. I heard my state ranked number one in deaths due to child abuse, so I was deeply moved to get involved. I was instantly turned away because my state required a certain age, and I wasn't old enough. I then began to research about foster care and was deeply moved. I watched many emotionally charged videos that were available online, and they brought me to tears. I stalked websites like Adoptuskids.org and began to print out pictures of kids who were awaiting adoptive homes, began to pray for these kids, and became their advocate. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I visited the National Heart Gallery in my state and began to weep as I walked past these pictures of beautiful children all up for adoption. I began to encourage everyone I knew to start fostering and adopting. Unfortunately, at the time I had only investigated one side of the foster care system, and didn't realize that for every foster child there were also two parents and an entire extended family attached to that child. I was just young and ignorant and my heart was so burdened that I was moved to action.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The day did finally come, however. A Christian therapeutic foster agency said “YES”….to me! I was their youngest client. They allowed me to start taking the classes months before I was of legal age. The average age of all the other soon to be foster parents was 45, and I felt slightly ridiculous sitting through the classes looking like a foster kid myself! </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I sat through the grueling 40+ hours of training, did the fingerprints, CPR/ First Aid, attended all meetings, watched the videos, read the books, did the homework, and allowed these social workers to have a very nosey glimpse into my very personal young life. I followed every rule set before me, and I was determined to become a licensed foster parent.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The day finally happened - I became officially licensed, and I was the youngest licensed in my state.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Then the phone calls started, and I didn't turn down a single one. I didn't care if the child was 400 lbs, wet the bed, masturbated, and played with knives. My burden for the foster child was so great that I just wanted to turn it into action. Now I have so much to say on this topic, but because this is a blog and not a novel, let me skip forward a few years.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">By the age of 26, I was finalizing my seventh adoption, and had fostered over 30 kids. My home was constantly "overfilled." I was the home that when caseworkers couldn't find placement…they called me. I took kids in at all hours of the day or night. I started out fostering the teenage girls that no one wanted. I took in the kids with all the issues. I took in the kids that were victim to other foster parents disrupting their placements. I took in the kids that had tons of labels and their files were so thick with diagnoses. I took in the kids with juvenile records, and the ones that were chronic runners. I remember getting calls all the time that my new foster daughter was caught doing what I call now the Jason Derulo "talk dirty" on the bus ride home. I remember showing up for school scheduled IP meetings, and school officials thinking I was the foster sister, or that this was some kind of joke because I was so young. I was literally fostering children I couldn't possibly have given birth to, and that were just a few years younger than me.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I felt like at times it was the blind leading the blind. Other times I felt like it was the broken parenting the broken. Many times I felt like it was the kid parenting the kid, again because I was so young. Yes, I had many break throughs and victories. I learned much and it truly changed me for the better. Fostering children was not a walk in the park. It was difficult. It was like a marathon that I wasn't properly trained for. I mean my 40+ hours of training never covered what I should do when your foster child locks you out of your own home, and then once you break in, they put you in a choke hold because they are twice your size! My 40+ hours of training never prepared me for how to clean up smeared poop, and how to properly dispose of your pet that was just killed by your foster child. I didn't know how to handle the fear of my teenage foster daughter who again was twice my size, who I thought might just be the twin sister of Emily Rose. There were many nights I slept in front of my foster kids’ and adopted kids’ door or on the couch to monitor bizarre behaviors, even while fostering recent hurt. It was a lonely, silent hell for me fostering and adopting children with severe issues. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Most of the kids I fostered all had severe trauma, PTSD, and depression issues. I remember getting these kids to a place of wholeness and good mental health, but then it seemed I would suffer from some kind of post adoption depression. I felt like the doctors needed to add on a few more initials to my already PTSD etc. I mean, fostering broken children is traumatizing....end of story! Now add on the letters "RADS" to a child, and this equals pure hell. Now if you have never fostered or adopted a RADS child, hang tight and check out my blog called <b>"Dear RADS Child"</b> that will pretty much explain the hell one goes through with parenting in this situation.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Now I am happy to announce that 90% of all the kids I fostered were reunified with either a family member or a biological parent! Yay! I mean this is supposed to be the goal, right? Doesn't Child Protective Services preach reunification?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I eventually switched out of my comfort -bubble -Christian therapeutic agency to regular state foster care. That's when I noticed so much that just wasn't right. Too many things just didn't add up to me. I then took more of a behind the scenes role in adoption and foster care and that's when the other side of the story finally became clear to me. It's taken me years to express the following publicly, so please bear with me as I try to muddle my way through a different side of foster care that was never taught to me. There were no training classes or emotionally charged videos teaching me on how to deal with the following issues. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Here were my top three RED FLAGS concerning Child Protective Services.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">1). The Caseworkers</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I want to make it clear that 75% of my caseworkers were just lovely. They changed my life, and I am forever grateful for them. Many I still keep in touch with and are dear friends of mine, but unfortunately there was that 25% that was pure hell. It was like walking on egg shells with some of them, as they controlled the cards of not just your license, but of your foster child. I remember one caseworker and I disagreed over movie choices and a few other issues, and out of spite she removed the child from my home without any warning. Another caseworker had the nerve to ask me to help her out on her mortgage that was late. She had access to my finances and knew how much I made and took advantage of that knowledge. She completely manipulated me and I felt trapped. Another caseworker asked me out and was beyond inappropriate with me. Yes, he was single and seriously good looking, but really???? I wish I could tell you I didn't go out with him and kept a level of professionalism, but I ended up going on one date with him and let's just say..."he told all." He must have not read the part about keeping confidentiality. I ended it the next day because I was completely convicted! Another caseworker would come into my home smelling of smoke and other questionable odors. I'm pretty sure that caseworker has since moved to a state like Colorado where they legalize weed. One of the caseworkers literally tried to convert me to their religion. The caseworkers also constantly changed. I couldn't believe the turnover. Some caseworkers followed the rules. Some did not. I remember one who was always bringing their children with them to visit my home. Whatever happened to professionalism? I remember the constant lies that caseworkers put on reports, it was honestly exhausting hearing my caseworker lie about a visit etc. I remember showing up to court for one of my foster kids, and I was asked to stay outside. Of course I didn't listen and I was shocked at the lies that CPS told in front of the court room. I watched the devastated biological family leave in tears. I watched caseworkers with personal vendettas and opinions judge these birth families and basically call them guilty without getting proof.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I was too afraid to speak up back then. I was afraid of causing an issue. I wanted to be the peacemaker, and honestly was afraid of what that caseworker could do to me. I was trying to finalize my personal adoptions and didn't want to "rock the boat" and cause issues. Looking back now, I wish I would have not only rocked the boat, but sunk that ship! Also, I really felt sorry for the many legit caseworkers who were doing the right thing. They were overworked, underpaid, and had overwhelming caseloads.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And here I was just a kid myself, taking on something that most young people my age don't normally do. While my friends were all signing marriage certificates, I was signing adoption decrees. So to keep the peace I stayed silent. Since I signed my seventh adoption at age 26, I became automatically controversial. My critics started hounding me and they have only grown louder with each passing year. I'm the type of polite gal that when I find a chunk of hair and an old band aid in my food, I don't make a scene. I just stay silent. Well, now that I am a tad older, learned a few things, and could write the book of what not to do, my silence has turned into a passion that is fairly bursting out of me. I'm a little late on rocking the boat, but better late than never, so I am now ready to sink this ship if need be. I already have quite the list of detractors and I am fully prepared to let that list grow.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">2). The Foster Care Payments</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Foster parents constantly claim they don't do it for the money. We as foster parents all have these common quotes we say to make ourselves feel better about the fact we get paid by the state to babysit kids. It was the constant common theme among us. We all got together and complained how expensive it was, and made sure each of us knew it wasn't about the money. Now what I am about to say will most likely offend most foster parents, but I'm not here to gain anyone's approval. Now the going rate in my state for a therapeutic foster parent was 900-1200 per month per child, depending on the specialized needs involved. I remember the screaming and rage that took place when foster parents hadn't received their checks in a timely manner. I was always alarmed by this, because we aren't doing it for the money, so why are foster parents cursing out their caseworkers because their checks were late? </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I have been disappointed with the whole foster parent subsidy. I know regular foster care is around $300-400 depending on the state per month per child. This whole government paying families to care for legally kidnapped children seems warped to me. When I fostered, the payments were at an all-time low, and I still have check stubs of a little over $200 for my drug baby that I eventually adopted. Now yes there are foster parents who don't do it for the money. I am friends with tons of them that are legit, but I will have to confess there are many that DO do it for the money. I took in kids "off the record" all the time with zero reimbursement just to help my county out. I look back now and see how dangerous that was, and completely illegal on the caseworkers part. In order to get paid when I was a therapeutic foster parent I had to turn in paperwork and, well, that never happened! Writing up bogus incident reports just wasn't my cup of tea. ;) So even though foster parents say they don't do it for the money - I happen to know for a fact it was a way for the wife to stay home and not have to work. Even worse, not all the money goes directly to the child. Many foster parents rely on these checks. If the government stopped giving them subsidies, I guarantee that many foster parents would not continue to foster for free. So if you are a foster parent who is truly not in this thing for the money then props to you. If you are a foster parent doing it for the money, then please use that money on the kid! Put them in ballet or karate- prove to the state the money is actually being put to good use in the child's life. I even started accounts for some of my foster kids and turned those saving accounts straight over to the biological parents when the kids were returned. Let's invest this money into the child's life…nothing else. Let's invest this money in making sure the child is reunified with their biological families.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">....And for my number three very controversial red flag... I have saved the best for last.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">(Drum roll please…..)</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I call it:</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">3). Reunification (my Acee-holee)</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">(Forgive my slang cussing….it was purely intentional….)</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I remember sitting through the classes and everyone is preaching reunification, reunification, reunification! Unfortunately, thus far in my 14 years of personally dealing with CPS, I am not convinced they are for reunification. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I am however pretty convinced CPS should no longer stand for Child Protective Services, because I am not seeing a whole lot in the way of protection or services happening. I have personally renamed CPS as Corrupt Profitable Secrets. Yes, that may seem very disrespectful and many of you know me as a conservative person who gets convicted when I don't return a shopping cart. Yes, I drive the speed limit and follow all the rules. Yes, I am a law abiding citizen who pays taxes and has a flawless background check. This topic just happens to get my blood boiling. I know in every state CPS is called something like DCS, DHS, DCF etc. but in my blog we are just going to generalize it, and call them CPS. Now hear me out, I mean no disrespect to the government of the United States of America. But I would also like the Government to understand that they are funding and started what many consider to be a very corrupt organization called CPS. I mean, God Bless America, but let's be honest here. Our US government needs help. Would you agree that all humans make mistakes? If so then we have humans who make mistakes running these government organizations. So CPS can't be perfect if imperfect people are running it....end of story. I personally believe everyone sins. We all just sin in different ways. How dare we judge other peoples’ sins and mistakes? We are not perfect! I pray God shows our government system a wealth of mercy, because we need it desperately.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It's time for CPS to get a facelift or at the very least, some Botox. CPS has gotten away with outrageous crimes, and desperately needs to be held accountable. Like I said, every human being makes mistakes, but we have people who make mistakes running an organization that deals with something as sacred as a child's heart. Let me please recommend some plastic surgeons to CPS, because ya'll need some drastic changes. CPS, it is past time for your laws to change. It's time for reform, baby. It's time that CPS starts recognizing the parental rights that are being stomped on daily.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The day I realized that CPS was not the innocent, angelic, Mother Teresa that I thought it to be was when I was doing something in my state called Bridge Resource. The goal was to have the foster parents helping the birth parents. We as foster parents interacted with the birth families. My eyes were awakened to something they never taught me in my 40+ hours of training. Not only was there a foster child but there were two other hearts that were beating that gave birth to this foster child. Not only were there biological parents, but there were grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and a whole community attached to this foster child. Once I got personally involved with the birth families of these children, my views drastically changed. Once I sat with the birth mom that was too depressed to get out of bed and function, my life changed forever. It led me to a sight that is no longer in existence, but it was compared to the website.... <a href="http://www.fightcps.com/"><span style="color: #1155cc; letter-spacing: 0px;">www.fightcps.com</span></a>. On this website I saw something that touched my heart in a major way. It was a story of a desperate parent crying out for help because their child had been adopted without their knowledge. I froze as I read the first name on the comment section. That was one of my birth mom's names. I freaked out when I saw that they lived in the same state as I did. Then to my horror they mentioned that rights were terminated over some kind of posting in a newspaper? What is that? Then I about collapsed when I read the words that are forever engraved upon my heart....</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">...<i> My child was adopted by a single mother who is younger than me. My child's new mother could be my child. But just because she had a house, a job, and finances she apparently could do the job better than me.</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">There were pictures attached to the statement and sure enough. This was my adopted child.</span><span style="color: black; letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I wept.</span><span style="color: black; letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I still weep.</span><span style="color: black; letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I can barely talk about it because I grieve for this family. I remember that night I had a Christmas party for all the foster and adoptive parents to go to. I remember listening to all the mothers and fathers sitting around weeping over having to return their foster children. I remember one foster mom was so determined that her foster baby shouldn't be returned with birth mom. She had listed all the reasons why the birth mom shouldn't get the child back, and I remember listening to her absolutely sick to my stomach. She was keeping track of all the things birth mom did wrong during the visits. She had researched the birth mom online and had her lists of reasons she was going to fight against her. She claimed she had rights before any birth family because the child had lived with her since birth and the child was bonded to her. This was not right! We as foster parents should not be focusing on ourselves and our emotions. It's not about us! It's about the child! I remember foster mom's crying because their foster child had to return to a relative and I was screaming on the inside.... This is a good thing!!!!!! I felt kind of bad because I never shed tears when my foster kids left. It was like a huge celebration that they could return to a blood relative or back with biological parents. I was thrilled for the birth families! I remember I fostered a child who had been with me since birth, I was the only mother he knew, and then all of a sudden a relative came forward. So many other foster parents wanted me to fight it, saying I had rights, but I was determined to love the child enough to think of his best interests. I truly believe it was in the best interests of the child to be with relatives, not me. So here I sat at this Christmas party confused, hurt, and I felt duped. I was surrounded by foster parents that just wanted to adopt children, and they were not truly grasping what foster care is really about. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I got my original paperwork from the adoption and started reading the disclosure where it talked about the birth family. I talked to my adoption worker who was so gracious and helpful, and sure enough they couldn't find one of the parents so they put some ad in the paper to prove that they tried. The more I researched, the more I became paralyzed on the inside. I finally decided to boldly try and find this birth parent and at least reach out. The website wouldn't give me info, but I had enough info on the disclosure forms. I googled this birth parent and saw that they had a Myspace account. I quickly made myself a MySpace account and we began to converse back and forth. Long story short…I ended up driving to her town which was about an hour away. I brought all my kids, and I was greeted by weeping faces of uncles, cousins, neighbors, and extended family. I sat there on the front porch and listened to their side of the story, the one that I was never told. I wept. I am still weeping. I watched as this birth mom started cuddling on my adopted child and saw the tears falling so freely from her eyes. I listened to her struggle. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I felt her pain. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She couldn't make the classes because she didn't have a car. She didn't have a car because she couldn't get a job due to her recent criminal record that CPS gave her. She couldn't get the help she needed because her baby was kidnapped from her by CPS, and she couldn't get out of bed. She couldn't afford an attorney because she was already behind on bills. She was given a public defender that wasn't cheering her on. She was assigned a worker that didn't agree with her lifestyle choices and marked her as guilty. She missed court appointments because she was too depressed to even take a shower. Her family and friends all marked her as guilty because she was hanging out with the wrong crowd and dating what they considered to be a loser. CPS didn't offer this woman any help. They didn't come along side of her and figure out a healthy treatment plan so she could get the help she needed. She was alienated from CPS. She was marked guilty until proven innocent. CPS said she was uncooperative with them and hostile but the woman gave birth and instantly lost her child…of course she was angry! Who wouldn't be? She was never able to share her side of the story in court. Her poverty suddenly turned into neglect and an awful crime. She was in a state of desperation. She had many relatives that could have taken the child but instead they placed it in foster care. CPS never made efforts in contacting birth father. They just put unknown and slapped an ad in the newspaper thinking that this was acceptable. This woman was set up to fail, and the system set her up for that failure. She didn't stand a chance against CPS. She was too uneducated and had made too many past mistakes. Now this precious family and I ended up healing and getting to know each other on a personal level. They ended up giving me their blessing to continue raising their child, and we remain close friends even to this day. I talk to her monthly and I have given her </span><span style="color: #232323; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">visitation rights</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I wish I could tell you that this was the only isolated incident. But I have adopted a lot of kids, and I have another story for you on a blog called: <b>"Dear Birth Mother."</b> This story is about my first adoption. I actually fostered her birth mother and it’s an incredible story I hope that you will read.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> I also want to make a disclaimer that my adoption was legit. The mistakes that were made were not done by my adoption worker. She was told one thing. The files reflected everything was in order. Permanent planning meetings were in place and everything seemed to be on the up and up. It's the system that messed up. It was the original caseworker who removed the child in the first place who made the mistakes. The current CPS system is simply not working. This whole reunification thing is a bad joke, because these poor biological parents are the ones that also need to be taken care of. I mean, foster kids get case workers, attorneys, social workers, free Medicaid, guardian ad litem's, foster parents, therapists etc. What do the biological parents get?!?????? A public defender that is often not supportive of the biological family. They are told they have to take classes, get drug tests, and are given a ridiculous list that is literally impossible for some of them to complete.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I know I am just one person and this rambling blog may not fix anything. I am going to put down lots of links at the end that I would encourage everyone to research. I am not a fan of people reading blogs and claiming them as TRUTH! Please research this for yourself. Don't take my word for it. Do your own homework. I also would recommend that you read the late Senator Nancy </span><span style="color: #232323; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Schaefer's</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> report that she did on the corruption of Child Protective Services. Now I do not agree with everything the former Senator believed in. She was an ultimate conservative to the extreme on some other very controversial issues. But I respected her for speaking out on the issue concerning CPS and she was one of our leaders in the fight for change and reform in Child Protective Services. I encourage you to Google her and listen to many of her speeches on CPS.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I know there is at least one thing I can do:</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I can apologize.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I am a former foster parent and I am an adoptive mother so on behalf of all foster parents and adoptive parents nationwide, I repent to you for the following:</span></div>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I want to humbly apologize to any birth family who is a victim of legal forced adoptions that take place in CPS. I am so sorry. I am praying for change in this area.</span></li>
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<li style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #232323; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> If your parental rights were terminated and you never had a fair trial or </span><span style="color: #232323; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">received</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> due process, I want to apologize to you.</span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">If you are a grandparent, aunt, uncle or an extended relative and you never had the chance to take custody of that child before they were placed in foster care. I repent to you.</span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> If you are a biological parent that never got a fair chance to fight for your child due to a divorce or separation, I am so sorry.</span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> If you are a victim of parental alienation, I am sorry. I am praying for the day when Parental Alienation can be recognized in courts as one of the worse types of abuse. </span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> If you were falsely accused, I repent on behalf of this messed up, so-called Justice System. I pray that God sweeps in and redemption happens. I am praying for JUSTICE on behalf of your situation. </span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> If your children were kidnapped and hijacked by the police department or CPS without a proper investigation. I repent to you. </span></li>
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<li style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #232323; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">If the foster parent that your child lived with abused or neglected your child, I humbly repent. I am horrified by the fact that so many children get abused in the states foster care system. I truly believe that children are better off being raised by their families then the </span><span style="color: #232323; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">government. </span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">If your child died while being in the custody of CPS, I am so grieved for you and repent deeply. </span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">If the foster parents responsible for your child did not champion around you and support you in reunification. I am so sorry. </span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">If people have judged you, and tried to mark you as guilty without hearing your heart, I understand and I am so sorry. </span></li>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">...and to my dear friends at CPS who I am probably flagged in every state: I am working on getting you a facelift but until then, please remember these things before removing a child:</span></div>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">More children die currently in foster care due to abuse and neglect.</span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">In most cases children are safer in their original home rather than a foster home.</span></li>
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<li style="color: #232323; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The amount of damage and trauma it causes on a child when you remove them will take years to fix. Most likely, your removing them will cause more damage than any biological home could.</span></li>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">For those caseworkers who are doing the right thing, then I thank you and encourage you to speak out if you witness anything in your department that is happening illegally. Don't stay silent like I did; be brave and blow your whistle loudly.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">To my fellow foster parents, I hope you didn't feel bashed while reading this blog. I have a soft spot for you because I understand what you are going through. Please just remember to foster children because it's all about them. Don't make foster care turn into something that is about you. I understand someone has to do it, because there are legit cases that need attention, but please make sure to do whatever is possible for reunification. You have never walked in these biological families’ shoes, so let's not judge. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Adoptive parents - I'm going to address you in a separate blog. ;) :)</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Until my next controversial post….Happy Parenting everyone! </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them. - <b>Psalms 139:13-16</b></span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 7.5px; letter-spacing: 0px;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: xx-small; letter-spacing: 0px;">I would encourage you to research or speak with Assemblyman Tim Donnelly. He has done extensive research on Cps and is asking for change. He is well respected and understands the side of CPS that not many are willing to talk about.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: xx-small; letter-spacing: 0px;"><a href="http://arc.asm.ca.gov/member/AD33/?p=article&sid=427&id=255550"><b>http://arc.asm.ca.gov/member/AD33/?p=article&sid=427&id=255550</b></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Nancy Schaefer wrote a report called "The Corrupt Business of Child Protective Services." I would encourage you to download this report and listen to her speeches on youtube. I would also encourage you to research her life, and really sit down and listen to her public speeches that can be found on Youtube. </span></div>
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<a href="http://arc.asm.ca.gov/member/AD33/?p=article&sid=427&id=255550"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b>http://arc.asm.ca.gov/member/AD33/?p=article&sid=427&id=255550</b></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Linda Jo Martin is a respected woman who has done extensive research on CPS. She started a website that helps thousands of victims. She is the leading lady that has helped thousands with exposing CPS. </span></div>
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<a href="http://fightcps.com/"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b>http://fightcps.com</b></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">Rev. Patrick Mahoney is on the front lines fighting for parental rights. I would encourage you to read his blogs </span><span style="font-family: Lucida Grande;">and he is the Director of the Christian Defense Coalition in Washington. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b><a href="http://revmahoney.wordpress.com/">http://revmahoney.wordpress.com</a> </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">I would also encourage you to research the following website and join AFRA as well. Fascinating information. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><a href="https://www.govabuse.com/">https://www.govabuse.com</a> </b></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305918071455739536noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507635326801705652.post-3606343394124725982009-08-09T18:38:00.000-07:002014-07-15T21:24:57.328-07:00Battling The Food Issues<div style="border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; max-width: 99.9000015258789%; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Battling The Food Issues…</span></div>
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It was 1:40PM on a Tuesday afternoon when I got a phone call telling me that my daughter was missing. I had dropped her off at school that morning and apparently she had asked to go to the restroom and wandered off. The entire school was on lock down and the faculty was searching everywhere for my daughter. I remember my heart was pounding as I got into my vehicle to drive to the school and help with the search. As I entered, the counselor asked me if my daughter had a tendency of running off, and I quickly told her to check behind every trash can, the cafeteria, and wherever there was food. She had been displaying many bizarre food issues since I adopted her.</div>
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They found my daughter in the kindergarten room. The lights were out because the morning kindergarten class had already left. I looked up at the wall where my child was standing and saw all this artwork with dried glue dots on them. Then I looked closer at the colorful construction paper and realized there were colorful crumbs stuck with glue on the paper. I looked even closer to realize it was FROOT LOOPS! Then I looked at my daughter and was horrified, she had glue and crumbs of cereal all over her. She had just eaten all the kindergarteners’ artwork! She literally picked off all the cereal pieces and ate them. I guess the kindergarten teacher used cereal as some kind of counting activity, and my daughter couldn't resist the temptation. I was speechless. I couldn't even muster up the words to apologize to the teacher. </div>
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The counselor started telling me that my daughter continues to steal from the other kids’ lunches, and she started asking me what my portions of food looked like, as if maybe I wasn't feeding her enough. I remember trying to frantically tell the counselor that I do feed her, but she continues to steal whatever food she can, but the counselor just looked at me like I was a complete and utter failure of a mother. I was so hurt that she didn't believe me. </div>
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I remember walking what I call the "walk of shame." All the mothers in their fancy SUVs were lined up outside to pick up their children. I had to walk by them all with my five kids who clearly wanted to trade me in. One of my foster kids had decided that she wanted a different back pack instead of her TJ Maxx clearance that I had bought her., so she started screaming as we all left the school building. I was juggling my baby in one arm, and three other kids, plus my screaming foster child. I was mortified. I remember listening to my foster child screaming at me because I wouldn't let her have the Dora The Explorer back pack, screaming that I wasn't her mother. I will never forget the glares I got as I juggled children that clearly didn't look like me. My African American/ Indian daughter did not want to hold my hand. My Asian baby kept losing his lovey blanket that he carried everywhere. My two other children were trying to tell me about their day and the birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese that they had just been invited too. And then there was my brand new precious foster child, still screaming about the Dora The Explorer back pack she wanted. I remember getting to my vehicle, and after strapping all my kids into their car seat, wanting to fall on the cement ground and cry a river. I was stressed to the max, beyond worn out, and felt every emotion about to burst forth from me.</div>
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I remember going home, turning on cartoons, and sticking snacks in front of the kids to give me a moment of peace. I looked at the laundry room, piled high with dirty clothes, and I remember climbing on top of that clothes pile and having a meltdown. </div>
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This was hard. What have I done? I felt like no one understood the struggle I was having. I didn't understand why my daughter kept stealing. And I had tried everything, to no avail.</div>
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I was beside myself. I would sit at our therapist office every Thursday and beg for more ideas. She would sneak down the stairs in the middle of the night stealing whatever she could get her hands on. I would find melted ice cream under her bed. She would come home with her panties filled up with all kinds of empty wrappers. I would get phone calls from the school stating that my daughter had stolen other children’s lunches. She would claim to have to go to the restroom and then would somehow get into all the lunches that were in other kids’ cubbies. She would hide the food in her pants and then quickly run to the bathroom and stuff her face in the bathroom stall.</div>
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Now, I was taught to not ever use the three basic needs of a child (food, shelter, and clothing) as punishment. I know that food should never be used as a weapon, and I preach this!!!! I have never denied my children food! I would never deny them food! I was so hurt that I was constantly being criticized for not feeding her enough. I would intentionally take pictures of all my meals just to show my adoption caseworker that they were in fact, being fed, and fed well. I would save all my receipts just to prove that I spent a small fortune on groceries. At the time no one taught me that this was normal with newly adopted children. At the time I had never heard of Reactive Attachment Disorder, and this was before the whole social media thing. As a result, I had little or no support. Nowadays there are groups of mothers who get together on social media to support each other, but at that time I felt very much alone. </div>
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The food issues continued. What was I doing wrong? I found myself constantly criticized by church members who never saw the meals I prepared for my children, nor were they with her 24/7 like I was. They would just see how hungry she was in Sunday school class and were convinced it was my fault. She would show up to family events acting like a child that just got out of a concentration camp, following folks with her eyes if she saw they had food. I remember watching her stuff her face as fast as she could around our family, and then stare at everyone knowing that she would be offered seconds and thirds. I saw her personality change when it came to anything to do with food. I felt like a failure of a mom, living some secret private hell that no one understood. I tried letting her sleep with food, posted a menu on her door of meals, let her have her special basket of snacks, and let her go grocery shopping and pick out her own special foods. I tried to remind her she was hungry for love not food, and tried so many different parenting techniques that were recommended to me. </div>
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I remember the day when I pulled into a QuikTrip in Tulsa, Oklahoma to gas up. My daughter stated she needed to use the restroom and couldn’t hold it. I pulled up close to the door after I had gotten fuel, and had her and an older sibling run inside to go to the bathroom as I juggled my younger children. I remember my son was throwing a fit about being in his car seat, as he was tired and hadn’t had much of a nap that day. I was weary and exhausted as well. I had just picked up the kids from daycare and their schools. All of a sudden my oldest daughter came running out screaming that my daughter had stolen something. I was horrified. I asked my oldest to keep an eye out on the younger children as I darted inside the gas station. I was greeted by the store manager who told me that my daughter had stolen the hot dogs and taquitos that were on a stand heating up, then locked herself into the restroom. I remember sweating bullets as I knocked on the door, pleading with my daughter to unlock it. I remember just apologizing to the store manager profusely as he began to retrieve his extra set of keys for the restrooms. As he opened the door, I was in horror as I saw my child stuffing her face with food she had just stolen. I walked the "walk of shame" again that day as I left that gas station. I tried to pay for the items stolen, but I think the manager sensed my desperation as he refused to take any money from me. I felt all eyes on me as I began to walk back to our vehicle. There was an older lady standing by my car on the phone screaming at me and stated she was going to call CPS on me for leaving my kids in the car. I couldn't catch a break!!!!! I was trying to get my daughter to gently hold my hand, but she was being defiant so it looked like I was dragging her out of QuikTrip. My daughter of course wouldn’t let me braid her beautiful African American locks that morning, so her hair was going in all different directions. I looked like the white momma who didn’t care about learning how to care for her child’s ethnic hair. By the time I got back into my vehicle and got the kids settled, I wanted to just fall apart. I drove to our house moving the mirror up so the kids couldn’t see the tears that were flowing so freely down my face. I turned up the music and tried to just get lost inside the lyrics, hoping that today was just a bad dream. Unfortunately, the realization came……this was my daily reality. </div>
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I felt trapped. </div>
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I took her to every available doctor trying to see if I could get her some help. Someone diagnosed her as PICA, so I then made sure she was getting enough minerals and nutrients. But then someone else told me she didn't have PICA, but something totally different. </div>
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I was so confused. </div>
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It seemed like no one understood. I had never seen a child so obsessed with food. She literally showed no emotions and the only way to get her to have any emotional reaction at all was to stick food in front of her. I started the 12 touch program with her and also did some Reactive Attachment therapy sessions to help her heal. </div>
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<span style="color: #0b371b;"><span style="font-family: open sans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">If you are an adoptive parent or someone who is dealing with a Child with Reactive Attachment Disorder,</span></span></span><span style="color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"> I just want you to know I understand. I have been there and back and watching the re-runs currently. You are not alone. </span></div>
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I wish I could tell you that all my RADS stories ended with a huge stamp of success, but I am going to be honest with you…my first six years of parenting children with RADS was spent in a fetal position crying in the middle of our hallway once the kids were all finally asleep.</div>
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I do however want to share with you something I was taught on that day when my daughter stole the Froot Loops off the kindergarten artwork. This was when I was sitting on the huge pile of laundry just having a breakdown. </div>
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I realized that I had become an accidental parent. I wasn’t parenting with a purpose, simply because I was so stressed out all the time and dealing with so much. I wasn't taking care of myself or making sure I was mentally and emotionally prepared. Teachers have to prepare lesson plans for their students. Here I was their mother that was just handed the great responsibility of molding and shaping these young lives, and I wasn’t even trying or preparing or thinking things through. I was a parent who crawled out of bed exhausted in the morning, made sure my kids had their lunches, brushed their teeth, made it to school on time, school projects turned in, and showed up for all the school performances. I wasn’t parenting with a purpose. I wasn’t thriving as a mother or an individual. I was just surviving each day, hanging on to this imaginary thread, and wishing for the day to end. I was just surviving not thriving, and traumatized from dealing with all my kids’ bizarre behaviors. </div>
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Yes, this job of motherhood was hard. Yes, adopting so many children with special needs was difficult. </div>
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It took me years to finally get to the point of parenting with a purpose. </div>
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So how do you begin the journey of healing? Here are a few things to remember. </div>
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When others call you crazy, shake it off.</div>
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When others criticize you for not feeding your child, shake it off. </div>
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On the days you don't want to get out of bed, crawl out of bed.</div>
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On the days you want to crawl in the closet and hide from your messy house and children, force yourself to function. </div>
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On the days you want to roll up in a fetal position and just scream, tell your spirit to rise up!</div>
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Tell your soul that this too shall pass. </div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Find something inside of your child that gives you hope, and hang on to that hope for dear life. </span></div>
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These trials are temporary, and the struggles are but for the moment. Staying the course and remaining faithful to the call, even when the call looks uncertain…that is the only way to reach the goals that are set before you. </div>
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Children do not come with instruction manuals, and the problems are almost always going to be unique, something out of your frame of reference. Remember that God set you apart for this purpose, and that He will make the way where there seems to be no way.</div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="border: 0px; font-style: italic; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord. - Ephesians 6:4 </span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305918071455739536noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507635326801705652.post-86108420999604237482009-08-09T18:25:00.000-07:002014-06-12T20:35:22.440-07:00Parental Alienation<div style="border: 0px; color: #0b371b; font-family: 'open sans', sans-serif; font-size: 12px; max-width: 99.9000015258789%; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Parental Alienation</span></div>
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Parental Alienation is something I had never heard of growing up. If you have never heard of the term, let’s take a quick little field trip and learn exactly what it is. </div>
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Parental Alienation:</div>
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is a form of emotional child abuse where a custodial parent belittles or vilifies the other parent to the child. The victims of parental alienation do not have direct access to their own children. The parent who is targeting the victim uses different tactics to alienate the children. </div>
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is a significant legal issue worldwide, and occurs when one parent convinces the children that the other parent is not trustworthy, lovable or caring – in short, not a good parent.</div>
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The person who is performing the alienation is very controlling, and will monitor every interaction that the child has with the other parent. They want to make all the leading decisions concerning the child. </div>
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destroys the present and future relationship between a child and the alienated parent. </div>
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is very effective because it literally brainwashes young, emotionally vulnerable, and impressionable minds.</div>
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<i>The parental alienation syndrome (PAS) is a childhood disorder that arises almost exclusively in the context of child-custody disputes. Its primary manifestation is the child’s campaign of denigration against a parent, a campaign that has no justification. It results from the combination of the programming parent’s indoctrinations and the child’s own contributions to the vilification of the target parent. </i></div>
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<i>Parental Alienation can seriously distort a child’s developing personality and subsequent life adjustment. The sooner it is identified and appropriate interventions are implemented, the better the child’s chances of avoiding its worst long-term effects.</i></div>
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<i>PAS children feel empowered and are rewarded for attacking the other parent. They are conditioned to feel no remorse or shame for doing so. The parent who is performing the alienation justifies any and all actions. They are the master manipulator, convincing themselves and the children that they are doing what is in the best interest of the child.</i></div>
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<i>The person who is alienating also continues to believe the lie that their child is somehow better off without the other parent in their life, and is doing this for the safety of the child. Those who commit Parental Alienation basically are known as “know it alls’ and like to act as the prosecutor, judge, and jury. </i></div>
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<i>Often the parent who is guilty of Alienation suffers from mental disorders such as anxiety, depression, and other mental illnesses. </i></div>
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All of the above were my personal definitions mixed in with information off of this <span style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="http://www.duhaime.org/LegalDictionary/P/ParentalAlienation.aspx">LINK.</a></span></div>
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So now that we are through with our quick field trip, let’s grab a quick coffee or tea and have a little chat about this issue. Let me start by saying that I first personally experienced Parental Alienation when I was a young pre-teen, and I remember it like it was yesterday. My parents were having some marriage issues and I will never forget the night when I heard my mother scream at me to call the police as she was smashing dishes on the floor. I then heard my father scream at me to find his keys. I was completely distraught. My father was loading up his stuff in the car and my mother was trying to stop him. I remember seeing the keys on the table, but I was too afraid to tell him where they were. I didn’t want my mom to be mad at me. I loved her, and I remember also looking at the house phone, not about to call the police on my father whom I loved as well. So I stood there as I witnessed this hostile “dispute” between my parents. Eventually I ran off and hid, and my twin brother who normally would defend me and make sure I was safe took over. </div>
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Thankfully my parents ended up restoring their marriage, but I will never forget the parental alienation that took place. I was forced to write my father letters of disgust. They were not my words. I didn’t hate my father. I was forced into “Jesus counseling” which was basically a complete joke; with me just saying whatever they wanted me to hear to suffice everyone. I remember my mother dropping me off at my father’s apartment and telling me what to say. I was humiliated as I was forced to knock on the door and then try and repeat the things that were placed in my psyche. I remember feeling caught in the middle of my parents’ marriage issues and while I didn’t understand all the dynamics, I did understand that it didn’t feel right. </div>
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My heart goes out to the many children who get caught up in custody battles. Children should never be used as weapons against a parent or family member. Children shouldn’t have to choose which parent they want to be with, and they should never have to listen to one parent or family member bash the other. </div>
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I experienced Parental Alienation again in my early thirties, but unfortunately my alienation came from a blood relative who deceived me. I remember vividly the day this relative sat in my living room feeding me all kinds of lies, for the purpose of convincing me to hand over a signature. You can read about my Parental Alienation nightmare in a blog called: Betrayal Tastes Like Death.</div>
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So how can you stop Parental Alienation? </div>
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Here is my personal advice:</div>
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-Don’t make your child choose. Children are not allowed to drive cars for a reason, so why would we allow them to drive their relationships with their parents? Let’s not make them make life altering decisions such as choosing whether or not they want to speak or see a parent or family member.</div>
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-Recognize the relationship. First of all, you need to recognize how this child is related to the alienated parent. Is it a father, mother, aunt, or grandparent? Don’t minimize the relationship with past actions. Recognize the relationship and then do whatever possible to reunite it and reconcile it. </div>
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-Direct the sacred things of a child’s heart to the parents. While I loved my years being a children’s pastor, I often felt more like a “parent pastor.” I made it a rule that if ever a child complained to me about their parents, I would direct their hearts towards their parents and towards reconciliation and understanding. Children see things so very differently than their parents and I wanted to make sure they saw things from a parent’s point of view. </div>
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-Lay aside all judgments. It’s never ok to judge the other parent, especially in front of children. We don’t have to even like the other parent, but we need to respect the relationship. Parenting should never be a contest on who can do better. </div>
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-Sweetness of silence. Don’t waste words on your child’s other parent. They don’t need to grow up listening to you belittle someone constantly. Rise up and handle your situation with dignity and class. Honor your child by honoring the people in their life. </div>
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Well, my cup of tea is almost gone. I do however have so many other things to say about this topic. Until we can meet again and discuss this issue that has been a huge problem in the Family Court System, I would encourage you to do your own research on Parental Alienation. If you are someone who is a victim, my heart goes out to you and please know you have my deepest level of support and empathy. Don't ever give up fighting for that relationship. <b><i>Die trying.</i></b> </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03305918071455739536noreply@blogger.com1