I Walk the Line

When we were making the decision to move from the Catholic church to Covenant, it was a struggle for us. Mind you, the Catholic church was not the ideal place for us. We were uneducated ritual followers who liked the conformity of tradition. It did serve as a platform to "wanting" to be have faith and trust in God, but it lacked so much that we were seeking and equipped us with nothing except a nice group of catholic women that taught me about catholic traditions, rules and guilt.

The biggest hang-up for me (and sometimes still is) of joining a Protestant church is not having to pray through a priest and determining how I am comfortable worshiping. Three years ago when we tried our new church we felt odd. We felt like it wasn't reverant enough, too casual. Where were the robes, organ and holy water? Where were we supposed to kneel?? We should have rules here people, and there certainly shouldn't be any hand clapping or hand raising.

But you see, in our Catholic church we felt distanced from God and it felt like a "safe" place to be. After all, the priest did all the work. He handled the praying, forgiving my sins and gave out the bread of salvation every week so I could start out new. There really wasn't much expected out of me besides maintaining the guilt and serving Saint Vincent de Paul.

Now, three years after joining Covenant church, I find myself in a much different place. I am called to be the seeker, an active participant, holding myself accountable, being missional and knowing who God really is. We are responding to our faith through an adoption, we pray regularly, we are learning the Bible. Our eyes are opened to what has been done for us and how deeply we are loved. We've changed. Our actions are more deliberate, our smiles more genuine, our time better spent.

That said, there are some days I want to go back to taking a back seat. It was easier. Some Sundays I look around and think to myself all these people have noodles for brains and want to go back to the kneeling bench, rosary beads in hand, repeating Hail Marys. Furthermore, I admit, sometimes I want to hide, call the whole thing off. It was easier being the follower. I could claim to something I wasn't because it was more mainstream, and acceptable. I admit that somedays I don't have any idea what I am doing and clinging to "Jesus" feels off the wall and crazy. I would willfully be what "the other guy is" because it I am fine with being in the middle of the road. Sometimes, I feel doubt and feel like I am too far behind my Christian friends who can recite scripture and seem to have it all figured out. Faith just doesn't seem like a convincing way of explaining the world. God doesn't seem to be near or answer my worries and sometimes I lose hope.

Does this mean I have doubt to where I am, or am I just tired? Do I want acceptance more than I want God? Are the questions I ask normal or have I just earned myself a ticket on the next train to Hells-ville.

Here is what I think...I think the doubt is good. 

Somedays I think of my faith as a castle—safe, comfortable, familiar. But what if God doesn’t want me to be comfortable and safe? What if comfortable and safe keeps God at a distance?
Doubt tears down the castle walls to force us on a journey. It may feel like God is far away or absent when in fact doubt is a gift of God to move us and grow us.

But it is scary and painful because I feel like I am moving away from Him. But actually I am only leaving behind the idea of God I like to surround myself with—the small God, the God I control, the God who agrees with me.

God is teaching me to trust him, not myself. He means to have all of me, not just the surface, going to church, volunteering part. Not just the part people see, but the part no one sees.
Not even me.

I’ve heard this many times: “Let go and let God.” It’s true—but “letting go” might be more than I bargained for. I must be taught, for I absolutely will not willingly go there myself. When we are not letting go, when we try to stay in control of something, that’s when God turns off the light and makes it dark—not because he is against us, but because he is for us. When we are out of control, that is when God can speak to us—without all of the layers of stuff we have piled up inside of us. God puts us out of our control so that we can learn to trust—not “believe” or “have faith” but something deeper and harder:

Trust.

You can only trust when you have let go completely, when you don’t try to control. When we learn to trust God out of our emptiness, we become liberated from our attachments, from our fears, and we learn to live with freedom and joy. That is the Christian journey.

So, friends I will continue my internal saga and I will come out alright. I will arrive a little disheveled and messy, but I will get there in the end.

I've been really having fun with our new fundraiser. I have mastered the art of pie making! After many practice pies, we have our recipes nailed down and pie dough and whipped cream no longer intimidate me.  All three pies offered have exceeded our expectations of a pie in terms of taste and presentation. So if you are in my area, consider purchasing a pie from me this Thanksgiving and supporting our adoption. All pies are made with much love and help bring our little boy home from Ethiopia through the blessing of adoption. I can't wait till he is older and I can tell him all the crazy things I did for him before I even learned his name. 

Thanksgiving pie offerings include:

* Classic Maple Pumpkin
* Mom's Apple Pie
* Old Fashioned Chocolate Fudge

Suggested donation is $17 per pie.

Please make checks payable to "LifeSong for Orphans" with "Farrington #2562 Adoption"
in the subject line.

To place your order, please email farrington76@verizon.net with the following information:
1.) Your name, address, and phone number
2.) The quantity and flavor(s) you would like
3.) Preferred pick-up day and time (pies are available the entire month of November)

All Thanksgiving pie orders must be placed by Sunday, November 11th.
Pies will be available for pick up at my home on Wednesday, November 21st.

Being a Mom in the Mundane

When I am buried under never ending piles of laundry or sweeping crumbs off the floor for the 15th time in a day it can be easy to forget how being a mom is one of the greatest adventures of my life. I have hard, yuck days at home with the kids just like everyone else. I have days when I am counting the hours until bedtime and days I would rather cry than intervene in one more fight. Those are days and moments I try to get through and move on.

Thankfully, the yuck is far outweighed by the simple goodness of being a mom. Not much compares. I love that I get a front row seat to watch as 4 kids grow into the people that God created. Talk about creativity at the ultimate level! My favorite times are usually found in the mundane. The thing about the mundane is if you are too busy with everything else in life you miss out on it.

Simple. Memorable moments.






When I am too busy I can easily notice the fighting among my kids…and not notice developing friendships.



The mundane, day-to-day life….just killing time in the backyard. Life is too fast paced, I want childhood to be slow. I want to celebrate the mundane and recognize that most of life is made up in the mundane.



I want to be in the little moments with my kids maybe even more than I want to be in the big moments.

When I slow down and walk along side them in the mundane I recognize things I might not otherwise. Things like how my 2 year old puts stickers on his legs upside down to the world, but right side up from his perspective. Celebrating the day to day can often seem upside down for our culture, but it seems right side up to me.

Make A Wish

I must admit. I am having an off week. My sensitivity is in overdrive and I have an embarrassing long list of misfit problems - all small, making me no less than somewhat cranky.

The first two weeks in October sting my heart. For the past 6 years these weeks are spent designing Make-A-Wish Foundation's Report to the Community. This booklet celebrates the generous contibutions and sponsors of the year and it points out the children who have received their wishes from the previous year. I break down every time I read a child's wish and see their face. I imagine the child's family and admire the strength, faith and fortitude needed for battling the emotions that must come with a sick child.

Each year I spend more and more time praying over this project. Tears flow and such sorrow is felt for each family. As each child's face comes up and their wish statement, I feel a rip on my heart. I wonder if the families have the strength of Christ or are they doing this alone. I wonder how many times they questioned and doubted if there was a God that allowed them to experience such pain. I wonder if they have people lifting them up and standing beside them as they experience the greatest loss of all...a child.

Make-A-Wish® Philadelphia & Susquehanna Valley grants the wishes of children with life-threatening medical conditions to enrich the human experience with hope, strength and joy.

Every year I read that mission statement, pause and think about how great that it really is. There are so many facets to the wishes these children receive. Yes, I believe the program's intent is to give these children happy memories and solid family time with their loved ones. But I think the words "hope, strength and joy" are extremely powerful and all point me to Christ. I see Make-A-Wish as a bridge for helping families cope with losing a child, celebrating what is important and memorializing the life we are given. The words are all qualities of our heart. Hope, is for that smile and laughter that tells us it will all be fine. Strength is pointing fully to Christ because we can't do it alone. Joy because the perspective is different and the priority has changed and the smile wins out.

I would personally like to add peace to the statement because it would add a closure to the loss. We need peace to move on. I need peace every October in knowing that God has it all taken care of. I have no doubt that each of the names I type to receive remembrance have been here for OUR benefit. They DID something. Changed someone's heart, attitude, or mind.

Nonetheless, the way I look at my day is different every October. I can not stand the thought of laundry, meal planning, and homework when people are really facing something big and painful. My compassion is stepped up a notch and I get ultra sensitive about world issues and get sarcastic about "the little picture".

It is all about perspective. So every October, I get all prayer centered around sick childen and the families that face the loss of a child. So where are my thoughts the other 11.5 months of the year? Am I apprecitive to the health of my family? You bet! And do I get all sentimental when I am faced straight on with tragic loss, yes! I don't know if that is condescending or just pain ridiculous on my character.

Now here I am at adoption. I went on Rainbow Kids last night took a hard look into the faces of children who already faced loss and needed a family to love them. It is interesting to see the big picture, see where God is working on me and seeing how my sensitivities are often wrapped around what is closest to my heart.

Torn

I want the absolute best for my children. I want them to have a patient mother who takes things in stride. Thinks before she speaks. Listens intently. I want them to feel safe, to know whatever they do they will be loved in return.

Why is it that while I feel so strongly about these things, I still get impatient? I still loose my temper. I tell them I don't care when they whine incessantly. I tell them to be stronger, to try harder, I give them tough love that has no resemblance of love.

Our heavenly father is perfect. He has gifted me with these children that remind me of innocence, true love, absolute patience, and moment to moment gratitude. They teach me what is important. They teach me about forgiveness. These children of mine don't hold grudges, they don't have resentment. They look at me with honest eyes that have trust and confidence.

I never knew being a mom would be so humbling. And I never anticipated that the fatherless would so enrapture my thinking that I would completely overturn the picture of a traditional family. Adoption, at first to us, was a means to grow our family even more and by also caring for a child who needed a home. We have a heart for the fatherless so adoption makes sense. Over the past several months on the waiting list, something has changed. What I thought was going to be an appendix of my life – parenting – and what I perceived was one of the things that caught my eye – orphans – has taken center stage.

I've always wanted a large family. A big chaotic loud bunch has always inticied me. I knew I wanted many children but I can't say I handle it like a mom who "goes with the flow". I know that I will look back on this time and scold my past self on what I held to be important. Really, I have it easy. My husband is an amazing dad who encourages the spiritual growth of our children and let them be who they are. He has no control issues what so ever and has complete trust in our children. As I write this I have put all the kids to bed and I am snuggled up with a soft blanket listening to the football game two rooms away.

The problem with living such a cushy life in America is that there's an impulse to pretend that most everyone else lives the same, or close to the same. To look hard at the face of injustice and abuse - especially toward children - threatens our own coziness, somehow.

It's difficult to wrestle with the dichotomy of have/have not. It can't be tidied up and tucked away in a labeled box. It messes with my head. It kicks me in the gut when I should be sleeping. It's hard to process the lives of children in third world countries. Their existence involves crippling poverty. Hunger. Slavery. 

This Saturday, my children will wake up thrilled to the ends that Dad has the day off. They'll argue over whether we go hiking, golfing or swimming. We'll pay for one meal what over half of the families in the world live on for a week.

At the moment our children are sleeping upstairs in warm beds dreaming no doubt of Elmo, cows, and ice cream and will wake up with a mom who serves them warm oatmeal and waffles. I can not tell you how much this hurts my heart. I feel so torn in knowing that my children will wake up to a mom who complains of dirty laundry on the floor and spilled toothpaste when there is a child of mine out there who has basic needs that aren't being met like the warm embrace of a parent.

It is all about our attitude, isn't it? I ask, am I worthy of parenting another's child? It is very humbling noticing our own flaws and contemplating on how others see us and furthermore seeing ourselves as God intended us to be and noticing how we fall short. I pray that in our time waiting, God changes me by reminding me to be more grateful and less efficient. Gather with me to take the time and anchor this moment in gratitude and selflessness. Join me in praying for the children across the globe who lack everything we take for granted.

And then it was time to play...

It's happened. They're back in school, and I'm not sure how that slippery summer slid past so slyly.
It's the perpetual groundhog day experience, each year at the end of school I wonder what in the world we're going to do for the whole summer to keep everyone busy and happy and then before we have a chance to check off everything, it's time for fresh stacks of notebook paper, spotless shoes, and the scent of newly sharpened pencils.

This year is new for us. We have a middle-schooler. What?! We quickly learned that junior high is a WHOLE NOTHER THING. We went to school before school started so he could practice his locker combination. Do you ever have those recurring nightmares? Mine is always that I'm back in high school and can't remember my locker combination or my class schedule. I wake up panicking every single time.

This year was hard for me putting them on the school bus. Middle school has got me all sentimental on how fast my children are growing up. Sweet Cole is in 4th grade and not a day goes by that I worry about his progress in school, however all his friends are in his class so he thinks his year is golden. Hmmmm. Clare happily skipped off to 1st grade. She could not be more ready for full time school. It is so strange to not have her around. The absence of her giant personality has Clark filling in the blank space with idle chit chat. He cracks me up. 

He reminds me to play because we happen to be right here next to each other. :)

Stand Firm

SO, I’ll go ahead and tell you–if you plan to adopt…put that seatbelt on…

I have heard it before...things start to break when you have both feet going down the adoption route. A few months ago, our frig broke, then the well pump needed to be repaired, then the water softener went and the tractor broke. Then just recently, our neighbor's tree fell on the trampoline and left a huge mess for us to tend to. Last Friday, Troy's car got hit and damaged while parked (no note left). Yesterday, my dad discovered that our circuit box in the basement had come away from the wall and was literally hanging by wires. That is the same day I saw smoke billowing out of the chimney, because of a furnace clog. Meanwhile, the kids seem EXTRA hard. The littlest ones seem to listen less, throw more tantrums, and fight more than ever. Our parenting strategies look like they are mere threats falling on deaf ears.

Sometimes I feel so weak and spread so thin. Sometimes I want to hide under the covers.

But I remind myself...

We are not called to back away…to chicken out…or lay low–but to TAKE A STAND.

Ephesians 6:10
Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. 

Some days I let frustration get the best of me. I grumble loudly, wear a scowl and only remember myself. I forget to appreciate my husband's efforts at work or the kid's desire to learn. I forget how thankful I am for our health and our house and our opportunities.

That, friends, is grace. And I don’t deserve it. I’m too busy wearing my Mary nametag and acting like Martha. Bustling around with worry and doubt.

We are called to be prepared–to know hard things WILL come our way and to STAND through the battle of faith not fear. We will not give up.