Is Your Talk Fogging The View Of Your Walk?

"Oh, I would never."
"You should"
"You shouldn't"
"Just pray for healing"
"Cheer up"
"Have more faith"

Trite answers. Ever heard any of these before? Ever used them on someone else? Guilty. In our made up minds, things seem so simple sometimes. I just engaged in a vaccine debate where a mother was upset that unvaccinated kids would pass their sicknesses on to her vaccinated and vulnerable children that might cause hospitalization and/or death. That's a scary place and no mother likes to think about her child suffering in that way. I'm on the other side. I've watched my son almost die from seizures that were vaccine related...so I would never push vaccines on anyone. Ever. You know why? Been there done that. I faced hospitalization and near death with my child because of vaccines.

I've heard the "just have more faith" or "we just believe that God is going to heal everything our children have now and in the future so we won't seek medical care". I've heard it all. Words are so cheap, though, until you've had to back them up with your own life and actions. You mean your child had a cold and you believed God for healing? Good for you. That's level 1 on this Wii game we call life. Wait until your child is facing life or death, walking or wheelchair, seizures or no seizures and then please by all means tell me your thoughts on life. I will want to hear every nugget of wisdom you will pass my way. Really -- I will!  I DO always love to hear the stories of when "the rubber meets the road" for people. In that meeting, wisdom occurs on a whole new level.

It's all about the whole "walk a mile in my shoes" thing. Sympathy vs. Empathy. Been there done that vs. I've never been there but I do care. I can understand people wanting to vaccinate their kids for health and safety reasons. I can also see the other side of it. When I look at both sides, I see children suffering. Or as a believer I can also understand wanting God to heal your child more than anything in the world. Been there done that. I understand  pleading with Him to not only let your child live, but live well and prosper. But you know what? God didn't let me get in the way of His healing plan for my son -- He healed him through a few excellent doctors. It doesn't have to be all or nothing. God is too big for that box.

Who are we to tell a chronically depressed person to "cheer up"? Who are we to tell a grieving person how grieve and when to be done with it? Empathy shows up when I can look at a person and say, "Me Too" (to quote my totally awesome church's motto). Sympathy looks at a person and says, "You know, I've never faced what you're facing but let me walk it out with you as best I can." Rarely is anything black and white, sweet and simply summed up in short close-ended responses. Thus, I am well to remember that no matter which category I find myself in -- sympathy or empathy --  there should always be less talk and more walk.

Don't Be A "Lukewarm No-Go"

Have you ever considered -- much like the list of "qualities" we look for in a mate -- making a quality list for friends? I'm not saying writing it down, it's just the mental list we make for what we are looking for. I know I have. I've also considered advertising! Much like someone considering the prospect of the dating game -- the task of finding friends seems arduous and too time consuming. Especially to just get to the point where you look at the friendship and realize it probably won't work.

One time I made a list of qualities I wanted in a friend and then focused on being the embodiment of it to my own friends. In doing that, I quickly realized how short I fall a lot of the time. In a world of superficial, fast, fast, fast, our relationships seem to stay that way too. But if we had a listing, a set of soft criteria, it seems like it would weed out the "no-go's"....or would it?

Do the "no-go's" realize they aren't loyal or are gossipy or unkind? We never think those things about ourselves, right? We tend to think more along the lines of, "Who....me, no...not me." We look out into the crowd and point fingers elsewhere. I recently wrote down 3 things that are critically important to me in my own friendships. These are my "must-haves" of intimate friendship: 1) Confidentiality, 2) Kind but truthful, and 3) Spiritual maturity.

The first criteria of confidentiality is not because I have secrets to keep. God knows nothing much is a secret in my life anymore after Restorative Grief came out. So, it's not about the secrecy. It's more about respect. My life and my stories are mine and mine only to tell. I get that people who share my book with others will also share tidbits of my story -- that is not the type of talk I'm speaking of. I'm more speaking of the catty, chatty coffee time banter. **Sidenote -- we recently became the proud owners of some chickens...they are noisy and catty to eachother...and now I fully understand the saying about women being a bunch of "hens". They cluck for no apparent reason ALL OF THE TIME. Who needs a rooster when you have a loudmouth hen that starts clucking at 5:30am???** And that is where my point lands -- loudmouth hens that cluck and cluck just for the sake of clucking. Well, and to make themselves feel better about their own lives, right? Hey, I've done it and before God whapped me upside the head on the issue, it just felt normal and comfy. The words I would speak of others would become a warm blanky I could wrap and soothe my own soul in and think, "At least I'm not like _________, at least I don't  __________."

My next criteria is the balance between truth and grace. I am a blunt person. I prefer blunt people as friends because us blunties, we just spit crap into the air, let it fall on our listener's ears and hope to move on in the next breath. Air it out and move on. I remember when I was a teenager my mom and I fought alot. ALOT. Did I mention I like to fight it out and be done? My mom's personality is more apt to have it out a bit longer so she would get really mad when I would say my peace and then act like nothing happened. **Another sidenote: my mouth used to be my weapon of choice so "my peace" wasn't so peaceful** She always hated that I was ready to move on afterward but to me it felt normal. I am still that way, whether it's normal or not I don't have a clue. I know for myself I don't want a bunch of "yes (wo)men" in my life. I want my friends to feel comfortable bringing truth to the table even if it's not what I want to hear. I don't like being called out, but it is better than the alternative. Plus, now that I'm more mature, I know I can take the things people call me out on to the cross and work it out with God to test it's validity.

My last criteria is that I want my intimate circle of friends to be coming from similar moral and spiritual backgrounds. The same was true for me even when I wasn't following Christ well. I wanted others who were at my level so I didn't have to hear any one chiding me for my lifestyle. **Misery loves company** Nowadays, however I don't follow advice or opinions unless they line up with what I read in Scripture. I enjoy going deep into Biblical conversations and I want friends who enjoy the same things -- nothing makes me happier than time spent talking about the Lord!

3 things...that's my list! And God has blessed me immensely with a handful of friends that meet and exceed these things. I love that! See, here's the thing, though -- it's not about them -- whether they are good or bad. It just isn't. We can't control them. Here's our tendency...my tendency: before I rate myself on the friendship meter, I put my stylish rose-colored glasses on so that the light shining in the mirror doesn't reflect back and blind me! I (We) look good, right? Mmmmmm Mmmmmm Mmmmm. Yep, we got it goin' on. Anybody would be blessed to call us a friend. Our glasses fog up a bit when we look at others, though, so we take them off. Bleck, the colors aren't as brilliant and we can see more detail without them. That's just how we like to see them...isn't it???? It's the difference of  the 50x magnifiying make-up mirror and standing back to take a full body shot from a distance. We must look at ourselves and our friends using the same standard of measure.

My son recently asked me, "Why are you doing this for her when it doesn't seem like she's a good friend to you?" My reply was this, "It doesn't matter how she treats me. What matters is what kind of friend I am to her. And I always try (doesn't mean I don't fall short sometimes) to be the friend I would want to to have." Does it feel like I am always the one doing the giving? Yes, but is it the rose-colored glasses speaking? **My glasses are like my chickens, they are noisy and usually not saying anything worth listening to**

If I've fallen short in a friendship with you, I am truly sorry. I'm workin' on that! And here's an "I'm sorry" in advance to those friends I will fail in the future. Being a friend takes work and investment so let's be intentional and honest about who we want to enter into that with. If we treat others in a flippant, "take them or leave them" manner, we are lukewarm in our friendship. Be hot or cold, but leave no room for lukewarm -- it's colder than the cold.

Prophetic Words Spoken Over My Teenage Self

In the summer of 1995 my Grandma drug myself and my friend to hear a man by the name of James Spencer speak. I was 17 at the time and absolutely did not want to be there. However, my Grandma loved to torture me back then. On a side note, all that "torture" was really God's prep work in my life. Anyway, there I was in a conference room full of people just waiting for it to be over with. I was trying to be inconspicuous, but God singled me out. From my perspective, it seemed James Spencer honed in on me randomly and wouldn't let go. By the end of it all, I remember crying, accepting the Lord, and I remember him speaking what would end up being prophetic words over my life. He told me "God had big plans for me". Some would say this is just a vague reference, that could be said of anyone. I get it. I really wanted that to be true and I held it tightly in my heart all these years; often telling the story after I saw my conversion in the Lord begin to happen. When he spoke those words, I couldn't imagine it being true but I held fast to it anyway!

The next month, my Grandma told me Mr. Spencer had written about our encounter in his newsletter. I don't remember caring a whole lot and by then was probably already back to my old ways but I've never forgotten about his newsletter either. As I grew in my relationship with Christ, I began to get more and more curious as to what it was he wrote about me.

 I was speaking of Mr. Spencer this past weekend with some friends and it got me thinking. I began to wonder if I could contact him and get a copy of his writing. It was nearly 18 years ago for one, and for two he would have to remember something about it to be able to recall it. "What are the chances of that," I asked myself. Well, yesterday I decided to give it a shot. I looked him up, shot him an email briefly describing our encounter and had a response from him within a few hours.

He recalled that night vividly! He said he wept when he wrote it and he wept when he revisited it yesterday just seeing God at work! I know I've said this before but when God writes a story, He writes a story! Now I can look back on a day in my life and gain heavenly perspective written by a mere human who dared to be the hands and feet of God in my own life. The story immediately dropped me back into the dark place I resided in at the time, but more than that, it filled me with overwhelming joy at God's redemptive powers and the restoration he provides in our lives regardless of how many times we fall or how broken we are.
Take a peek into a day in my teenage life written by James Spencer, author, speaker, hands and feet of Jesus:

The turn out in Twin Falls was small and the audience was tired.  So was I.  Have you ever tried to dig up concrete?

          Don’t get me wrong, these were good people in a good church with a good pastor.  But it was hard that Sunday night just this past month.

          Before the meeting a woman came up to me, escorted by two teen-age girls.  “I saw you when you were in Buhl,” the woman said.  One of the girls obviously was her daughter.  The other one hung back and looked at the floor.

          As I began to preach my prepared text, I was struck by how bored we all were.  The congregation was bored, the pastor was bored, and I was bored.

          That’s when I knew something was up.

          See, I am not bored about preaching the gospel.  Neither is the pastor nor his people.  But that night we were.  Hello?

          When the kitchen sink comes flying through the window—when the devil is working overtime—its time to get excited!  Something is up.  Opportunity is afoot.

          I didn’t know what was up.  But I have been preaching long enough to know when to shift gears.  I began to pray in the Spirit, even as I preached.  What’s going on here, Lord?  What are you trying to do?  Where should I go?

          I began shuffling the deck.  Searching the faces of the people as I allowed God to move me through several ideas in rapid succession.  I was fishing.  I was looking for direction.  Then it came.

          I saw the young girl in the back, sitting hunched over, face to the floor.  The devil wants to keep her in bondage!

          I swung into a salvation message.  At that point I didn’t care about anybody else in the meeting.  Although I didn’t look at her, I preached to her.  (Nothing obvious, no one in the room knew what was going on.  I doubt that even she knew I was focusing on her.)

          You was unmoved by my preaching.  However, the congregation woke up.  I woke up.

          The pastor looked at me like he knew I suddenly knew where I was going.

          When I gave the altar call, several responded, but not my girl.  I prolonged the invitation.  “Don’t let this moment pass.  Don’t leave here and allow the sensitivity you are feeling in your heart dissolve away.”

          Still nothing.  Eventually I had to bring the meeting to a close.

          However, the pastor and I (who work very closely together in the Spirit) both knew the meeting wasn’t over.  He led the congregation in a couple more choruses.

          He called a man out of the congregation and we prayed for him.  We prayed for a family in which the grandparents were raising three grandchildren because the mother was unable to do so at this time in her life.  As we prayed for the children, they began to weep.

          Suddenly, I had eyes in the back of my head.  What I mean is that in the Spirit, I saw my teen-age girl who was seated several rows behind where I was standing.  I turned around and she was still sitting with her face lowered to the floor.

          Do you know you can be in the flesh, even at these moments?  I knew I should go back to where she was.  The draw was almost irresistible.  Is it just my pastor’s heart?  Will I make the situation even worse by publicly embarrassing her?  Will I simply harden her to further ministry?

          I walked back to her and said, “Miss, stand up.”  She stood up but looked at the floor.  Is she a hard case?

          “Miss,” I said.  “Have you accepted Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior in your life?”

          She shook her head.

          “Would you like to do so?” I asked.

          She looked at me for a long moment and then said, almost inaudibly, “I said I wouldn’t do that.”

          Said it to whom?  Said it to me?  Said it to God?  Herself?

          “I didn’t ask you that,” I said.  “I asked you if you wanted to accept Christ.  Do you want to do that?”

          Tears came to her eyes.  She nodded her head.

          “Why are you afraid? I asked.

          She didn’t know.

          “Is it because someone in your family will be unhappy with you?

          Apparently not.

          “Can I pray with you?”

          Yep, I could.  And I did.  And she broke and wept and fell into my arms.  And I broke and wept—and am weeping now as I write these words…

          Listen, God wants to send me to lost people to bring them His message of reconciliation.  He sends me in seminars, in books, and through radio and television.

          Why am I telling you this?  Because I can’t go unless you send me.  Please send me.  How much is the soul of a teen-ager worth?

Sit Tight

Not a day goes by that God doesn’t whisper into my ear saying, “Be still”. The word, “still”, by definition goes against every fiber of my being. Until the last 5 years or so, I haven’t understood what that would even look like. However, God never fails to present these situations that in the past would cause me to squirm, fidget, or even run. Given that I am such a socially awkward person you can imagine how many moments I have in one day!

On any given day I am prone to have multiple situations I would prefer to run from. Somewhere in my life I developed a coping mechanism for each awkward moment. In silent moments, I always had to interject something. In tense moments, I always had to make a joke. In teary moments, I would emotionally separate and probably still make a joke. In moments of disagreement or situations requiring confrontation I would run. In moments of strife, I would jump in and “fix”.

In the last few years though, God has been working with me on this and just really asking me to “sit tight” and feel whatever is presenting itself at the moment – asking me to just let there be silence, let there be tension or tears or whatever may be. Naturally being a “fixer”, it was hard to resign myself to just being present but not coming up with solutions. The idea of just being surrendered to what comes and to be sensitive to the idea that it may be just what the Great Doctor ordered; no matter how uncomfortable it feels to me.

It has itself playing out when I visit my hospice patients – just listening to what they are saying and what they aren’t saying – and staying with it regardless of how uncomfortable it is. It plays itself out in my friendships, just sitting tight and praying for friends or family when they hurt my feelings or gossip or whatever the circumstance may be. This was the point I used to run. Now I feel God asking me to just stay and wait it out. How hard this is! I find myself asking the Lord how long I have to wait. How many times do I have to hear a friend gossip before I can be done? **That was a lesson I learned years ago from a best friend – I loved hearing her juicy gossip about others, but was somehow blindsided when she gossiped about me** Now when I spot a gossip I am the first to turn my head and disengage – let alone pursue friendship. “Lord, you really want me to be a sitting duck just to be obedient to you?”

God is funny that way, though. Somehow He brings people and situations in and uses them to refine us. I can complain all day about others and how they’ve wronged me, hurt my feelings, or gossiped or cheated me -- but it isn’t about others. It’s about me. It’s about what I’m going to do with it. How am I going to handle it? Am I going to sit tight and trust God? And no matter which way I turn, I feel God gently asking me if I’m going to sit tight and trust in Him; to be still and know…that He is God.

I’m convinced it’s Satan voice I hear when the words “run” or “give up” nowadays. I won’t say that God will never tell us to steer clear of someone or some situation – I know better than that. But many situations in life are just that – temporary situations that God is working on behind the scenes. We just have to be willing to sit in the uncomfortable hot seat as long as it takes. It isn’t always pretty, but honestly, the view from that seat is raw and real and most definitely perspective changing.

The Game of "Life"

It’s family game night. Much is riding on the game as it’s coming to a close. Usually, in this competitive family, it’s a race to the finish. Normally, the kids are clasping their hands together with anxious laughter, hoping to get the best of their parents; especially dad. Oh how they love to beat the man of the house!

That man symbolizes half their heritage. Half of who they are and who they will become is shaped by their dad’s life – for better or for worse. By watching and listening, he both consciously and unconsciously tells them how to be, who to be. His kind and loving words, though sporadic and sparse, are felt to their core. They know that when he says them, he really means them. He is the one that teaches and guides. If the hours clocked teaching little boys about fast cars could build a stairway to heaven, this daddy would have reached the gates in just a few short years. The time spent hunting, fishing, and wrenching with his kids would be enviable by any parent’s standards.

At the beginning of the game, dad was so far in the lead it seemed no one was going to catch up to him. His game plan seemed so strategic and his confidence unshakeable. It was one of those games that seemed destined to go on forever. With each spin of the wheel, the excitement would build. For the kids, the anticipation of what the end would look like was almost too much to bear – with both fear and victory filling their insides until it felt like they might explode!

Towards the middle of the game, dad’s lead started to slow. The kids were beginning to see the holes in his game plan; the flaws in his strategy. With each turn, they began to catch up and even gain on their father. They watched intently, turn after turn, as dad lost his lead. They prodded and pressed forward with the hopes of coming in first. At one point in the game, they got so focused on the end in sight, they nearly forgot about their dad even being in the game. When they looked back to see how much of a lead they had, they quickly realized that somewhere on the multi-colored squares of the “Life” board, their daddy’s car had crashed. Nobody had even noticed the tiny black square dad’s car had landed on…it said “Meth Addiction”.

Our dad was stuck. It was as if his little, blue plastic car had landed in a tar pit and we weren’t sure how to help him get out. We hurriedly checked the directions that came with the game, but it offered no suggestions on how to get off that little black square. All we could do was sit and stare at each other. Feeling helpless, we kept spinning, hoping to land on the right answer to move our dad further along in the game – or better yet, to just keep him in the game and moving. Our worst fear being that dad would give up. Will he throw in the towel because the game has gotten too hard? Will he quit on us, leaving us to finish the game alone? Why are there so many rules to “Life”, yet when someone gets stuck on this one black square, the game suddenly becomes an urgent mystery?

Here we sit…at the end of the game. Crunch time. The time we normally relish. The time we are usually oozing with cockiness and loving every minute of it. Of course we learned that from our dad! We three kids are in the red zone of the game of “Life” but the chances of a tragic let down seem more likely than a score. We have now stopped spinning, even with the finish line in sight. We have quietly decided we will settle for a stalemate because we don’t want to win. Even more importantly, we don’t want to know who loses. We can spin and spin on our turns but it won’t matter. The driver of the car stuck on the little black square has to take his turn. He must spin and then emerge extremely ticked off that he’s lost so much ground in the game. But will he?

Has Anyone Seen My Thankfulness?

     When reading the story of the Israelites being led through the desert, provided for at every turn by God himself, I have admittedly thought to myself, "How could they doubt with all the Presence they were blessed with?" How could they, how could THEY, how could they? It seems so implausible given the circumstances, that they could actually complain, grumble, and doubt the fact that they were being Divinely cared for. The day's manna hadn't even digested before they were doubting and grumbling again. And again. And again.

     Four months ago, a doctor asked me if I wanted a chaplain to come sit with me while she and others tended to my son's medical emergency. Two words a parent never wants to hear in the same sentence...chaplain and son. She said, "This could get dicey". For about 20 minutes my little world became a monstrosity of emotions. When they came to get me from the waiting room, a flood of thankfulness overtook me as she said, "The ventilator tubing had kinked itself inside of him. We never see that." Thank God. The problem was not with my son but with the equipment and it was an easy fix. Thank God. Thank God. I wish I could say that was the first time I had seen medical staff have to perform resuscitation on my son. It wasn't. With his seizure disorder, I had seen it before. It looks the same in every doctors eyes. The first time it happened, no one had time to remove me or my mom from the room. We just sat and watched. We watched him seize for over half an hour. We watched him turn ashen gray.

     All of this to say, today, he's a healthy 14 year old boy with nothing medical looming over his future. I have witnessed miracles. Huge miracles. I have been fed daily manna from my God just the same as the Israelites. I have clung to God as my world threatened to crumble around me and asked Him to just stay beside me and give me what I needed to get through that moment. And the next...and the next. Here's the kicker: I have turned right back around and grumbled. Grumbled that I didn't have enough. Grumbled that I wasn't enough. Grumbled because I couldn't feel Him. Grumbled because He wasn't fixing some problem for me. I have grumbled and complained to the very God that has spared my son's life over and over again.

     Hi my name is Cynthia and I am like the Israelites. How could I? How dare I?

     How quickly I can forget the tender mercies of yesterday. The miracles I have been witness to. I have personally seen God do big things! I have had some of the best seats in the house and yet, I have found myself telling God I need more, I want more, show me more. Someone said something today that got me thinking about this. I have seen such great wonders of God. The Israelites had seen such great wonders of God. What if, because they saw such huge and obvious blessings literally pour from the heavens, they became addicted to the constant shower of Presence and the rush of adrenaline God provides. What if the greatness of what they saw made everything else about life mundane and boring? Laborious and monotonous. Thus came the grumbling and complaining. What if they had seen God provide so much they wondered in their humanity when God would stop showering them with blessings and do away with them because of their lack of faith or disobedience?

     I would be lying if I said I never think those things for myself. I have experienced the Presence of God in huge ways -- as if He were sitting next to me. So in between those huge experiences, I find myself asking Him why I can't feel Him. As if He has left me. Yeah right. It's my attitude that has tried to leave Him. It's the world, Satan, that has crept back in to my thoughts telling me I don't have enough, I'm not enough, I will never be enough.

     So, what is enough? When has He done enough? When will I stop complaining? When I force myself back to the beginning. When I pull myself out of my stinkin' thinkin' and grab hold of my foundation again. Christ dying on the cross just for me is enough. I know that, it's huge. Yep, that's enough. But He didn't stop there for me and He doesn't stop there for you either. He's already done enough but He keeps doing. He spared my son's life multiple times when the reality is He didn't even spare His own Son's life.

     I tend to read the Israelite story with disgust at how they could lose heart with God right there, providing just because they were His chosen people. And yet, I, four months out of my son's surgery found myself losing heart and becoming frustrated with life's situations. I found myself asking God where He was and why I couldn't feel Him. Once I get my heart right, I realize He's still here, still right next to me. Still doing big things, but how could I notice when I won't pull my head out of my worldly "ars" and look with my heavenly eyes? God never abandons us, but too often our perception does.

Meet Kelly...Absolutely Awesome, Adorable, Admirable, Adoptive Mom!

This year I am participating in The Adoption Blogger Interview Project. Anyone in the adoption blogging realm throws their name in the mix and are paired with someone else to expand all of our adoption horizons a bit :) I am blessed because I was introduced to someone on the other side of the fence and got to know a little about a woman living out the heart of God with regards to adoption. Her name is Kelly. Her story is one of an adoptive parent, adoption advocate, wife, and child of God. **Not in that particular order**

I had the pleasure of asking her questions about being an adoptive mommy, the non-profit she and her husband started, called The Sparrow Fund and also a great little store called The Nest, that helps adoptive families all over the world. This is one busy woman to be sure! Read more about her life, mission, and passion in the following interview questions.


1) For you personally, what was the biggest challenge to adopting?

We did a lot of training. I read a lot of books, read a lot of blog posts. I was prepared for our daughter to have challenges attaching. I was not prepared for my own response to those challenges. It was hard when she didn't see me as her mommy. It was hard when she preferred my husband's care over my own. We danced a bit with our attachment process. When I acted like her mother and she'd showed any sign of responding like my daughter, I'd respond in kind, and the cycle would continue. It took a good while for us to dance well together as mother and daughter. But, we got there. Some days we aren't always in sync. But, we're still dancing.


2) In International adoption, what place do birth families have?

In any adoption, birth families play a significant role exclusive only to them. They were our children's first families; we cannot not acknowledge that role even if we do not know them at all. In many international adoptions, particularly in China, birth families' identities are mysteries, leaving many more questions than answers for our children. But, the mystery doesn't negate the significance of their role in our children's lives. We look for opportunities to talk about birth families in general and our daughter's birth family more specifically, always aiming to honestly honor them. We keep it casual and normal so that our children all know that we are comfortable with whatever questions may come up whenever they come up.


3) What kind of support and encouragement do you provide through "The Sparrow Fund"?

We had only been home a few months with our daughter when we felt compelled to do something to support adoption. We found that there were some great organizations ministering to orphans directly all over the world as well as promoting adoption, but there were few nonprofits committed to serving the families who brought those children home. We started The Sparrow Fund with the mission of supporting and encouraging adoptive families through grants so that they could enroll in programs to receive preadoption counsel, support while they travel to bring their child home, and postadoption support. We have more recently taken on a more active support role ourselves, providing training opportunities for adoptive families in all seasons of their family life - waiting to adopt up through parenting older children. The response to these trainings and opportunities to be encouraged alongside other families has been overwhelming.


4) I noticed that "The Sparrow Fund" only supports International adoptions...why not domestic adoptions also?

We actually do support all adoptive and foster families through the trainings we offer. We are hosting our first couples' retreat (Together Called) this February. The couples attending represent all sorts of adoptive experiences from fostering to adopt, private domestic adoptions, sibling group or older child adoption, special needs adoptions, and adoptions from all over the world. The grants we give are specific to international adoptions only because the programs we help families enroll in focus on reviewing the referral and providing support to families to better help them understand that referral of a child they cannot physically meet and have evaluated here in the states prior to committing to adopting him or her. International and domestic adoptions are very unique regarding the extent of information families are able to have prior to finalizing an adoption.


5) What kind of, if any, incentives or special funding do you provide for special needs adoptions?

We view all adoptions as being special needs adoptions to some extent. There are issues adopted children deal with and need to process that requires special attention from parents. There is always brokenness before an adoption even takes place. And, these precious children are in the middle of that brokenness, resulting in what we feel is a special need. For some children who have been in varied foster homes, have experienced abuse or neglect, were institutionalized, there can be very significant special needs as a result. Our grants and training we provide to families are not exclusively for families who are adopting "special needs children," according to the more commonly understood definition. All adoptive families need the support we are seeking to provide to them.


6) Tell me about "The Nest",  the women who make the jewelry, and how the profits are used.

The Nest has become an incredible way for us to broaden the reach of our support to adoptive families. Through The Nest, we have been able to support adoptive families in Nairobi, Kenya as well as help fund our programs for adoptive families stateside. Through personal friends, we have embraced a collaborative of women in Nairobi who make paper bead jewelry as well as peanut butter that they sell and trade in their local marketplace. They pool all their earnings and distribute according to need amongst the women and their families, most of which are adoptive families. We have become their major source of provision as we sell their wares on Etsy and at events. With the women's full support and joy over being a part of our work, about half of each sold item gets wired to Nairobi to these women while the other half supports our programs.


7) What is one thing you would most like to tell people about your life's mission?

As a family, we are truly seeking to glorify God by caring for people - through The Sparrow Fund, we feel like we are able to do that as we provide a way for families to get the support they need as well as offer opportunities for them to continue getting support long after "Gotcha Day." Our days are full and often extend well into the night in order for us to keep up with it all. But, we're excited about where we are and where God's leading us next.

Kelly with her babies

Kelly's blogging home is: My Overthinking -- hop on over there to learn more, purchase from 'The Nest', or find out how to get involved!