That Day Again

It's that day again. 

The one filled with the most confusing and contradicting of emotions.

It's her birthday. 

For three of my four kids, we don't actually know the day they were born - we celebrate their birthdays as "celebrating the day you were born" knowing it's most likely not the actual anniversary of that date.

For this one - we have a high degree of certainity about her actual birth date. 

There is confort in knowing the day.

There is joy that she was born.

There is excitement about celebration. 

There is also sorrow for the loss. 

There is wonder about the mom who birthed her. 

There is sadness for her - that she will never know how amazing this girl is. 

There is a woman on the other side of the world who brithed the most amazing kid. Her reasons for not parenting her run a range of possible options - some sad, some criminal, some hard hearted, some political. I will never know - and most days I don't give it much space in my brain. 

But once a year, this day comes. The day I am powerfully remindered that while we paint adoption as the beautiful picture of redemption and love and redemption that it is, we can never, ever forget that it is born of the greatest tradgey a child can ever, ever experience - the loss of their mom. The best I can hope for is that my girls can create enough emotional space in their heart to carry both of the conflicting emotions within their hearts at the same time. 

But we can celebrate the girl today - and all the wonderfully things go into her - her nature and her nurture! 

The Gift of Being Seen (or..saying Goodbye to Heather)

There is beauty in sight - the colors of creation, the splendor of the majesty, the twinkle in our child's eye, the bride as she approached the bridegroom. 

There is beauty in feeling seen by someone - that they see not only the "me" that I carefully project to the world, but the me that is underneath all that. Only those that can be trusted with the mess underneath the exterior can see. 

There is beauty in a relationship where we are seen. It's not the relationship of "in each other's business every day" but the relationship of "you are a safe place for the real me". 

This was driven home to me recently.  My friend Heather is moving today. To Brazil first, than to the Isle of Mozambique to tell people about Jesus. She is moving her family. She sold her possessions. She is leaving - probably for good. I am profoundly sad for myself. 

I have know Heather for a long time, but we don't see each other too often even though (until today) she lived 2 miles away. I love her and her family and we love their hearts for their mission. I knew I would miss her, but was caught totally unprepared for the depth which my heart hurts. 

It's because she sees me.

She sees past my projected image into the my heart. And she loves me anyway. 

Heather knows how horribly hard it is for me to ask for help. Looking back, she never said "no" when I asked - I am now pretty sure it wasn't because she was sitting around available, but because she knew how hard it was for me to ask and met me there. She saw the risk I take in asking - and she moved mountains to meet my need. 

She was one of a small handful of people who would take my hardest kid. I didn't ask often, but she always would. She saw my need and met it. 

She showed up when our baby left unexpectedly. Just walked in and hugged me - because she saw past the Christian rhetoric of "God's in control" and into my broken and shattered heart. She saw my heart. 

The gift of being seen - there is no better way to reflect the love of Jesus than this gift. And there is no one that does is better than Heather. 

I suspect that the Isle of Mozambique shall be forever changed for the kingdom because of Heather's gift for seeing people. I am blessed that she chose to see me -