I Still Have My Flip-Flops

What would you be willing to let go of to save your life?  What is something you're grasping tightly to that is proving to be detrimental to your very being?  These questions became very real to me this past weekend.  

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Very few people know my entire story, you know the story with those dirty details you wished weren't written in your book. Even though the Lord has been truly gracious in His forgiveness and has redeemed me in a powerful way it's a book I like to keep hidden.    

This weekend, a few of my friends and I enjoyed a couple of days together for a mini moms' retreat. We connected in profound ways through sharing our stories, our tears, our love for our families, and the grace that the Lord has provided to each and every one of us. We came back more tired than when we left (staying up past 2am will do that) but had a profound understanding of our roles back at home. God showed up in big ways.  It was exactly what we all needed.   

Saturday morning, the four of us decided we wanted to head down and float the river.  For some of us it was a new adventure and one I had wanted to do since I was a teen.  A shuttle took us to the entrance and there were people as far as you could see.  Many of them were young college kids enjoying the first days of summer while alcohol filled their coolers and the swelling of music was in our ears.  Looking around and every sense of mine was heightened, I heard a small whisper from the enemy himself:

 "Doesn't that look fun?  Remember when that was you?"  

I turned to my sweet friend and told her that this trip was challenging me in ways I thought I had left behind. I was reminiscing about the good 'ol days and the fun I used to have.  My mind quickly became aware of every detail around me and the sensation of the moment was at the forefront of my mind.  

A little background here: there was a period of time just after high-school that I enjoyed the party scene.  I exhibited very little self-control and found myself in situations I never thought possible. Through the conviction of the Holy Spirit, I knew it was wrong but I allowed myself to use pinned up anger and resentment to tell myself this lifestyle was fun and rewarding. The effects from that period of time are still present in my life today.  

We made it into our tubes and began the two hour journey down the river.  Not too far from the beginning is a tube chute that sends you down a water slide that is carved into the side of the dam to divert all the tubes around in order to continue to float the river.  At the end of the chute is extremely strong currents and several lifeguards are there waiting to jump to action at a moment's notice.  

Once down the chute, you don't have much of an option as to where you go.  You are at the mercy of the river and if you're lucky, you will continue on your path or, like us, the current pulls your tube up stream and you continue in this circle until you happen to be pushed past the major current.  After about 20 or more minutes of making the circle we find ourselves back around to the end of the chute. I begin rocking back in forth in my tube as we are all trying to get past the current and onto our destination. We finally get to what we feel like is success and my tube flips over.  

I am a good swimmer and enjoy being in the water so I wasn't worried at all when I went under.  With sunglasses on, a bottle of kombucha and green flip-fops in my hand I began to swim to the surface. Never in my life had I felt a current this strong and I quickly begin to realize that I was in trouble. I'm swimming as hard as I can, desperately holding onto my drink and flip-flops just realizing that my sunglasses were no longer on my head.  I finally emerged but was instantly pulled back under.  Just as my face went below the surface, I saw a lifeguard jump in the water.  I knew it was for me and I was scared to death, yet my determination kept me going and I was working harder than ever to swim up to the top.  He jumped in and wrapped his arm around my waist.  I remember thinking that there was no way he was strong enough to pull me to safety but lo and behold we were making our way back to the surface. Thankfully, my friends and my empty tube were just in reach.  I stayed there holding onto my tube catching my breath and trying to gain an understanding of what just happened.  We reached a calm part in the river and I climbed back in.  Thankful for my life, I heard another whisper.  This time it was from the Lord.  

"Mandy, had you been drinking and still living in sin that you had earlier been glorifying, you would have died.  Jeff would be left alone to take care of three boys that I've gifted you.  Remember, I brought you out of that lifestyle for a purpose.  Trust Me.  I love you and have a future for you." 

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I tend to lose focus when the monotony of everyday life takes over.  Boys, adoption, homeschool, laundry, dishes, cooking; the list continues.  Not to mention trying to be a loving, submissive wife. My eyes well up with tears as I relive this weekend.  Not just for the fear of what could have happened but the overwhelming love I felt from my Father.  He rescued me from my past and He rescued me for my future.  My desire for the old left when I took another breath.  God isn't finished with me and if you're reading this, He isn't finished with you either.  There are hard days and life feels hopeless sometimes but if you are ready to listen He is speaking to your heart right now.  Just stop and hear the whisper.  

And yes, I still have my flip-flops....  

You're Wasting Time

When's the last time you've seen it?  Really, really seen it?  Brokenness that brings you to your knees, with tears streaming and crying out to the Lord "please come".  Maybe you're personally experiencing this kind of brokenness and you don't see a way out.  Definitely not what you intended or ever dreamed of.  Every so often, this brokenness rears it's ugly head and I'm thrown smack down in the middle of it.  Clinging to the cliff that I feel like I'm falling off of and crying out to God, "not now, not again".  I'm tired of seeing the hurt and the nastiness that is in every crack and crevice of this world.  And I'm going to venture out and say that to truly be the hands and feet of Christ, you will need to not only witness it but come alongside and experience it yourself.  And let me tell you, it will be the most uncomfortable you've ever been.

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The sun is shining, conversations with precious friends, and happy children are enjoying a moment of escape from the life of school and chores.  It was a moment I could stay in forever.  But then, as real life does not stay beautiful like this for very long, a friend shares her heart, her life and the despair she's feeling.  You can't be present in that moment without feeling it with her.  Wanting to take it away, offer a quick fix, or snap your fingers and put her at the other end when things will finally feel good again, but you can't.  We listen, cry with her, and offer her encouragement in the only way we know how. Friendship is tough and doing life with one another is a beautiful mess. A mess I'm happy to be part of.  A couple of hours go by and little did I know but I was about to be sucked into a little life that would further break my heart.  

Picture this little boy, about three years old with brown hair and golden brown eyes, with the word "stinker" written all over him.  He was cute, no doubt about that, but within two minutes of my eyes catching his antics I knew he had a story just waiting to be told.

Rocks flying from his little hands with a posture ready to fight, he had no remorse when his peers tearfully told him to stop.  My friends and I looked around for the parents waiting for them to intervene, but nothing.  It happened again, rocks raining down on the heads and into the eyes of other toddlers.  Looked around, still nothing.  When I saw it a third time, I decided to intervene from a distance "hey, rocks stay on the ground".  Brown eyes look over, and lo and behold the rocks are deliberately thrown again.  Parents?  Nope, still nothing.  So I decide to get up, go over to him and bend down to get on his level.  I look into his eyes and calmly say "Remember, rocks stay on the ground.  Your friends don't like that game."  Guess what, he picked up the rocks and threw them once again.  

I leave and go sit back down with my friends. "Well, I tried.  But I give up!"
I still don't see any parents and I begin to get a little uncomfortable redirecting a child I know nothing about.  We all continued to watch and then a friend noticed his mom off in a distance.  Something clicked and I just knew...he's in foster care.  Once I realized mom (or whoever) wasn't going to be involved with him, I decided to try and interact with him on a different level.  As I walked over again, he grabbed some rocks and threw them.  I bent down and asked him his name.  After he told me, he screeched with a demand of "swing me!!" He obviously had no home training and was coming from some sort of trauma.  He was used to strangers and had a superficial trusting of random adults.  My heart broke.  I saw my own boys in this small child.  I was reminded of their stories and the brokenness of the system.  After a few minutes of swinging, I told him I was going to go sit with my friends.  His voice clamored out, "I go with you!" and here he came following closely behind.  He sat down next to me and said "I want to eat with you. I'll go get my food."  I told him to ask his mom and he unemotionally responded "That's not my mom, that's my foster mom."  Tears came streaming down my cheeks and again I was reminded of the stories of those that call me mom.

I wish I could say that I handled this well, that I had compassion for his "foster mom" and that I had energy and a desire to invest in her life.  But honestly, I was angry.  I hear from my oldest two the horror they endured while in foster care.  They have more trauma in living in 10 different homes in two years than the four and six years of living with their biological parents.  I was angry that she didn't parent him, engage with him, or that fact that she was completely fine with her son spending unsupervised time with a stranger.  She has six kids in her care, all under four.  I didn't show her grace and I didn't have any compassion for her.  I was judgemental, angry, and heartbroken for all involved.

I didn't care that she's probably tired, overwhelmed, and lacks any parenting skills.  I'm mad at the system that would set her and these precious lives up to fail.  I'm angry that she has three different CPS cases in her care from three different counties and that her husband works from 3pm-11pm.  She could not possibly be successful with this situation.  But I still didn't care.

I'm thankful that when I'm in the midst of sin and can't see God calling me to do something, He calls others.  My precious friend decided to get up and go talk to the mom, learn her story and minister to her.  Numbers were exchanged and commitments were made to pour into her life.  Where this story goes, only the Lord knows.  But I know He's calling you.  Will you make a difference?  When will you truly become uncomfortable for the Lord?  Have you thought about becoming a foster parent? Why does CPS give a young woman six kids under four to care for?  

BECAUSE THEY DON'T HAVE ENOUGH HOMES

Fast forward a few hours, having dinner with my three precious gifts and the story from the park comes up.  Mark is angry and memories begin to flow from his sweet lips. 

Mark: "Mom, wonder if they aren't getting fed." 

Mom: "I think they are, they seem like they were eating.  Do you remember not getting fed in foster care?"

Mark: "No.  But I remember not getting fed with (first mom) and (first dad).  I used to sneak into the pantry and get the peanut butter and then go hide to eat it."

Mom: "How do you feel talking about this right now."

Mark: "Fine.  I just can't believe I did that."

Lord God, please come.  Now