A Family of Family-makers

I'm at Summit 9. Christian Alliance for Orphan's annual event gathering orphan care advocates, people who answer God's call to defend the fatherless in a myriad of amazing ways. The event draws parents, professionals, church ministries, and advocates working in adoption, foster care, trafficking, family preservation, global orphan care, and more. This year, I'm in Nashville with advocates from 49 states and 25 countries.

It's an amazing event for many reasons, but it occurred to me tonight that this event is so powerful for me each year because it is a place where I receive the very thing I spend so much of my life fighting for others to have. This is a place where I belong - where my sense of purpose belongs. 

My heart beats for ensuring that children are in families. I believe with every fiber of my being that every child deserves a safe place where they feel like they belong and are loved, a place where they can learn to be who God made them to be. Family is God's exquisite design for this. 

Some of you know me and more of my story than others, but the short and sweet of it is that my biological parents weren't fully equipped to give me what I needed to thrive in life. When this became especially true, a family I already knew and loved said: "we love you" and "you belong here". (What an extraordinary gift!) I was in a hard situation for a time, but I also know I was protected in many ways from far greater harm along the way. I was also moved into the safe embrace of a family far more quickly than may who face the devastating consequences of long-term institutional living or the instability of moving from foster home to foster home. I am blessed to know far less of hard places than many, but my experience gave me a taste of the before and after of a safe and stable family. There is no glimmer of doubt in my mind that it changed me. Family saved my life. How could I help but want that for every child?

This morning, Stephen Ucembe, a young man who grew up in an institution, spoke to us from his depth of knowledge and experience. Research and science speaks clearly to the dire consequences of institutional living, and that matters, but Stephen's story spoke even more brilliantly to the poverty of being unloved and having no sense of self or belonging when growing up in an institution. He told us, simply and profoundly, that "we should help children not to survive, but to live." Orphanages provide physical sustenance: food, education, shelter. Physical sustenance is sometimes enough to prevent physical death, but this is not life. Life is a place to belong, a confidence that you are loved, and the ability to figure out what it is God created you for and pursue it with all your heart.

This passion of mine for family is found, (because of family) but it is not easy work. It can feel overwhelming. The problem sometimes seems to grow faster than it can be addressed. What is right seems obvious to me, but difficult to implement in real life. Irrational barriers sometimes seem to arise to doing things that seem inarguably right. This work is just what I'm meant to be doing, but sometimes the vastness of both the problem and the barriers make it feel like impossibly difficult and lonely work. Summit 9 provides a sense of belonging though. These are my people. This event and its participants are a warm embrace that reminds me that I am not alone in this work. In that sense of belonging, I regain my sense of purpose. The truth shines brighter in the collective that my work is not futile. Together, we make a difference. While there is still much to be done, the stories, the efforts, the expertise surrounding me at Summit 9 reminds me that this work is immensely important and I am not alone in it. These thousands of passionate co-laborers and I are a family. We are a family of family-makers. And if you are a family-maker, you know how profoundly important that sense of belonging can be to keep you on path to pursuing your purpose in life.

What an extraordinary gift to be here amongst family.  

Extra-Shiny-Amazing Weekend

I have all these amazing, breathtaking people in my life. They are go-getter, world-changers. It's the craziest thing. I think I had a perfect weekend. Every single minute replays sweetly in my memory. What are the odds? With the exception of a few hours reading and napping Saturday afternoon (perfect break for my introvert spirit) I was with extraordinary people all weekend.

And, you know, I'm a believer that all people are extraordinary in their own way, but then there are the ones that just seem sort of extra-shiny-amazing. I have this theory that it's because they also live like they think everyone was made extraordinary - more on that another time perhaps. The point now is, I think I only saw all those glittery brilliant type people this weekend and it was magical. What a gift.

One group in particular just shake me to my core every time we're together. They've become some of my nearest and dearest -the friends you can be most yourself with and your most ridiculous with. They are the friends I never thought I'd be cool enough to have. (I'm still not.) The ones you laugh the hardest with. The ones that you're so confident will pray for your heartbreak and celebrate your victories. I love them individually, but when they all land in one place, be still my heart. I spent Friday night and Saturday morning through brunch with this collaboration of amazing. (Yes, we had a sleepover. Don't judge with your jealous selves!). I still consistently wonder if they'll get tired of me soon. I often think: "how on earth am I allowed to hang out with these bright stars?" I sort of hope that never stops echoing in my mind. I want to always be in awe of what absolute rockstars they are because it's true. And it's better than any movie to have an insider view of their lives unfolding.

I had an Epiphany epiphany (ha.) this weekend. It was striking and not entirely new, but too frequently forgotten. If you slow down - really slow your mind, your feet, your heart - time stretches out. And from the moment I left work Friday to falling into bed Sunday I remember so many perfect moment details that it seems impossible it all fit into a single weekend.

Instinctively, I want to try and list them, because it seems unconvincing to just say it was all goodness and nothing else. I won't list them though. As much as I am a giver of evidence and prover of things, I don't want to share them. I want to keep them - all mine - like the gift they were. Not all mine, just mine. All mine and ours. They've already been shared just right and resharing might confuse or limit their sweetness somehow. Words just aren't always enough for everything.

I'll just say thank you though. If I saw you this weekend, thank you for being extra-shiny-amazing in my life. Thanks to the Creator of you all. And, I'm so thankful for the perspective to recognize and dwell in the warm embrace of it all. A year ago, my heart wasn't anywhere near this, find happiness and cling to it, place. It's good and light and I do not take it for granted. This weekend was a glimmer of eucharisteo. The wonder I believed in, sought after, raved about. Those beautiful words I read over and over are, beyond my most hopeful expectations, even cozier lived out.

Default Emotions

In the last year or so, I keep being reminded how often I assume a default emotion. I actually have all the emotions, it's just I don't want people knowing about them. I mean, it's not like everyone has emotions. I don't want to seem weird. Ok, fine everyone has all the emotions - none of them are bad - only our responses can be. For whatever reason though, I just like to hide mine like some sort of weirdo in denial. So, too often, I just front with my go-to emotion: anger. I don't seem weak with anger. I do seem like a jerk/weirdo/spazz (easy to forget that part it seems).  At least I'm not vulnerable though (lies! we tell ourselves...).

For example...

I'm heartbroken that Russia has banned intercountry adoption and taken an opportunity for family away from children. Rage. Rage. Rage.

I'm confused because someone responds in the exact opposite way I would: "Grr. WHY! Grr!"

I'm afraid that if I question something I'll be rejected. "Why don't they just do it the way I want?"

I have a creative idea and am afraid to be rejected so I don't speak up."Why didn't they ask me? Jerks. They don't care what I think!"

Right - are we seeing a theme here? (Where I'm the problem?) I see a theme... (Where I'm possibly a little crazy.)

It's ridiculous of course. Particularly since I really value communication - in theory anyway. In law school, I was always a fan of the things that involved talking it out instead of litigation - things like mediation, negotiation, and policymaking. I still prefer those routes. So, I am, theoretically, a fan of overcommunicating. I'm trained and equipped to help others have healthy conversations and problem solve. I didn't get to do too much of it formally professionally, but I thought I was learning to be relatively effective at it. And when I remember that it's an awesome and useful process, it totally helps navigate in life still. 

I seem to be sort of bad at doing it for myself though. And maybe that's why I was so drawn to it. I needed to learn the skills and I was especially sympathetic to those in need of the skills - since, I was them. Oh humans, we're all so unique. We come at things differently. We really need help understanding each other. I really need to lose the "safe", stupid default emotion, figure out what I really feel, and say so. We all do. We're a beautiful mess. Dig in. The payoff is worth the risk. (Or so I'm trying to convince myself...)