Better is One Day

Some of you may recognize this post, as I wrote it two years ago...


The idea of the Lord's "dwelling place" is quite nice, isn't it? I'm sure many of you have heard and sung the contemporary worship song "Better is One Day"...

"How lovely is Your dwelling place,
oh Lord Almighty
My soul longs and even faints for You.


One thing I ask and I would seek,
to see Your beauty
To find You in the place Your glory dwells."

Though the song pulls lines from different psalms of David, the idea is consistent- there is beauty and glory to be found in the dwelling place of the Lord. No wonder we claim it would be better to spend a day there than a thousand elsewhere- it sounds like a delightful place to be.

The church is again and again called by Scripture to keep our minds fixed on the eternity we will spend in the presence of the beautifully glorious Lord Almighty, and so songs like this one and the psalms of David are helpful in directing our hearts towards that end.

But what about God's dwelling place here on earth? What does the Word have to say about the place God chooses to dwell here in the earthly, temporal realm?

A father of the fatherless and judge for the widows, is God in His holy habitation. Psalm 68:5

It seems there is a long list of verses that agree with this one- that God consistently chooses His dwelling place to be with those who are weak and afflicted. Jesus, Himself, is clear about this in Matthew 25-

"Come you blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: for I was hungry and you gave Me food; I was thirsty and you gave Me drink; I was a stranger and you took me in; I was naked and you clothed Me; I was sick and you visited me; I was in prison and you came to Me."

Then the righteous will answer Him, saying, "Lord when did we see You hungry and feed You, or thirsty and give You drink? When did we see You a stranger and take You in, or naked and clothe You? Or when did we see You sick, or in prison and come to You?"

And the King will answer and say to them "Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me."

Here, Jesus does not simply claim to dwell with the hungry, thirsty, strange, naked, sick, and imprisoned- He claims to BE them. By reading this passage, God's chosen dwelling place on this earth is made very clear- the adjectives used to describe it, however, are not as lovely-sounding. I'm not sure my heart and flesh would so easily long for such a place, and I really don't know that I would choose to spend a day in any of those circumstances. Certainly not when my current dwelling place allows me to be satiated, familiar, clothed, healthy, and free.

But what if those places are really where the beauty and glory of the Lord is to be found? What if God actually does choose the weak things of the world as His dwelling place? What would it mean for little guys like this one...

He has been labeled by the world as worthless- so much so that they have placed him in a brick holding room, where he is never permitted to leave. He has AIDS and an intellectual disability, and is passed small amounts of food through the hole from which this picture was taken. I bet he is indeed hungry and thirsty, feeling naked and like a stranger, is very sick and certainly imprisoned. So what if our responsibility to him is actually the same as our responsibility to Him? What if we actually have to stand before Jesus one day and explain why we left Him sitting in His lonely (and not so lovely) dwelling place? Will we ever get to enjoy the Lord in His heavenly dwelling place if we choose not to join Him in His earthly dwelling place of suffering?

In order that we might not be the ones to whom Jesus says "Depart from Me, you cursed, into the everlasting fire prepared for the devil and his angels," (Matt 25:41) may He give us grace to pray as David did and to continue to sing this song, but perhaps, with a new understanding of that which we are asking. May our eyes be opened, and then fixed, to the beauty and glory of God that is so uniquely displayed in orphans with intellectual disabilities.

*I wrote this for the Special Hope Network blog, which you can find at www.specialhopenetwork.com. It is updated weekly, and explains a lot more about what God has called us to do. Check out the website if you have not yet!

God is His Father

When I first met Donald Musebo at an orphanage near our house, I didn't think much else except that he was super cute! His big, beautiful eyes were deep, but he hardly ever locked them with mine long enough to search them out. To him, I'm sure I was just another adult among the slew that walked in and out of his life all day.

The director of the orphanage had asked Special Hope to visit this little guy because it was believed that he had Autism*, and so we gave a brief synopsis to his caretakers that first day and scheduled a full assessment for later. It was in between these two meetings that God began to stir in my heart.

Verse after verse, I couldn't escape it...

He executes justice for the fatherless and the widow, and loves the sojourner, giving him food and clothing. Deuteronomy 10:18

Father of the fatherless and protector of widows is God in his holy habitation. Psalm 68:5

The Lord watches over the sojourners; he upholds the widow and the fatherless. Psalm 146:9

Donald had been fatherless for over 2 years when I met him, and it showed. In the way he ignored, in the way he stared blankly, in the way he didn't care. He was fatherless and felt it.

During my time spent in the word and in prayer, God made it clear. HE was the Father of the fatherless. HE was Donald's Father.

And I was to be his mother. I was to step in for the mother who birthed him**, and mend the wear and tear those lonely years had left.

To celebrate this restoration, and to mark this new life being birthed- God whispered a name. Joab. Hebrew for "God is his father." A promise written over his life- that no matter what, he would never be left alone. That even in those lonely years, God was still there, purposing and planning every step.

Watching him grow and change over the last 9 and a half months (!) has been my utmost privilege. I love that I get to be the one to remind him of that promise, even with every call of his name. My son, His son...Joab.

Then...
























Now...


















*More on this later this week.
**Read this post about Donald's mother.

You Should See It!

I know that I am way behind the curve on this one, but if you have not seen this movie- you really should! It tells the (true) story of Temple's life with Autism, and the incredible accomplishments she has made as an animal scientist. The film is bioptic- it shows the world from two perspectives- as a typical mind would understand it, and how an Autistic mind might see it. Besides being a good story, this film so deserved all the awards it won (hands down, the best role Claire Danes has ever played)- so seriously, you should see it!

Titles

Officially, my role in Special Hope Network is to serve as Director of Operations Africa. Now I have to admit, I think that sounds pretty legit. I am then reminded, however, that we are not the major international NGO we hope one day to be, and that really we are just four adults + four kids on the ground here in Zambia doing what we can to affect change for people who have disabilities. In reality, right now that title doesn't mean a whole lot.

The title I prefer is the one that carries much more significance; the one I received on the night of our commissioning as missionaries back in early 2010- "Defender of the Rights of the Afflicted and the Needy." It comes straight from our verse, Proverbs 31:8-9, and to me, carries an incredible amount of weight. So much more than some fancy director of an organization, this is who I want to be. This is what I want to define my life. I want this to be what people say about me.

And so, to the best of my ability and according to the grace and power given me by God- this is what I will strive to be and do. Specifically, right now, I will work to see that Special Hope reaches kids earlier. With the deaths of Francis and Gabriel (another of our kids died while I was away), we have realized that we need to be there sooner. Before the malnutrition and/or disease warps their bodies beyond repair, we need to be able to step in.

With this in mind, Special Hope is now working to create Care Centers in each compound of Lusaka, and eventually in the rural areas outside Lusaka. Our goal will be different according to the specific needs of each community, but our hope is that we establish a presence in each area of the city so that we may be accessible to those who need us. We want to be there when a mom realizes her child is developing differently; or when a parent dies and a child has nowhere to go; or when a dad finds out his child, despite what everyone has always told him, can actually learn and grow- we want to be there.

So, that is what I will be doing for a while- finding places, talking with parents, assessing kids. All of which I hope will live up to my name...pray with me, will you?

Choosing to Celebrate

I sat on the couch, carefully cradling him in my arms. His lungs were working so hard to get air, and his forehead was burning up. I looked into his little eyes and just cried. I knew this would be the last time I got to hold him.

Francis died this morning.

He became part of the statistic I hate so much. He's now included in the 80% of children with an intellectual disability who don't make it to 5 years old. That statistic now carries so much more weight, and my abhorrence of it has increased more than I thought it could. It weighs more because it now has a face to go with it. It now has a name. It now has attached to it a moment when I had to say goodbye.

And so, I write tonight to make certain that he does not fade away into the numbers. To be sure that his face and name are remembered. He was fearfully and wonderfully made by His Father, and I want to celebrate it.

Don't misunderstand, I do not want to celebrate his death, nor the way he died. Someone (I don't know who...) will have to pay the price for the injustice he suffered- I am convinced God will not allow it to go unpunished. He will right every wrong, for Francis, and for each of those 80%.

I choose to celebrate, instead, that I got to be with him. For whatever reason, God saw it fit for me (and others) to be there with him for his last days and hours. I got to be one of the ones to make sure he knew he was loved. To cheer and beg him on as he ate and drank. To simply hold him and sing to him in between feedings. To be heartbroken when he breathed his last.

I still do not understand everything going on. I know that Francis will not be our last, but he will always be our first, and for that is reserved a most tender place in my heart. I pray that God make room in your own heart for him, that he be remembered by many who never even met him, and that his story would convict and compel your heart to whatever end God may choose. And as always, may our Jesus by ever so glorified as He does.

Here's to Hoping

Before we moved here, we always talked about it as an inevitability. The statistics wouldn't allow us to escape it. But I don't know that we could have ever prepared for the day when we would care for a child who was dying. And yet, here we are. Francis is 1 year 5 months old and weighs only 11 lbs. At roughly half his suitable weight, his organs are most certainly failing. His skin hangs off his tiny frame in sheets. His bones poke through and seem like they could break at the slightest touch. His eyes stare blankly and his mouth can barely handle the food we are trying to pump into him.

The reality is- Francis' little body is deteriorating. The hope, however, is- that God would step in.

Looking at him, it seems impossible...good thing that's His specialty. And though we know it's not His guarantee, we ask...we hope that God would step in and make His glory known through Francis' restoration.

Pray with us...

He Chose Me

I have come to know so many beautiful things about adoption in the course of my life. From hearing the stories of my own mother's being adopted to now adopting my own son, and watching so many friends and family adopt in between- I have come to know it as something so intimately close to the heart of God. A beautiful glimpse of Him in this overwhelmingly mundane world- when He calls and empowers His people to step in and choose the ones who've been abandoned. To choose to give them life instead of despair. To choose them when others didn't and wouldn't. To choose them.

It was and is a privilege that God has called me to be a mother to Joab. To step in and give him life when others didn't- to choose him. I get to live it and love it each day.

But I have realized something even more beautiful about adoption- and have only just realized it as it played out right before my eyes. We were sitting in the driveway the other day, talking with a group of women who are taking our class on the basics of Special Education. These particular women are all dedicated and committed workers at an orphanage here in town, not unlike the women who worked in the place where Joab used to live. I'm sure it was a familiar scene for him- Zambian women, dressed in their brightly-colored citenges, all sitting and chatting- it was one he saw everyday for over 2 years.

I paused in my conversation with them to watch Joab more closely. He walked over to them, and grabbed a corner of a skirt, then grazed one of their hands, seemingly interested in the group. My heart fluttered for a moment, thinking that he might find them more comfortable or more familiar than me- the funny white girl sitting opposite them. But then, he walked over to where I was sitting on the pavement. He threw his arms around my shoulders and brought his face close to mine. He stared at me- and then looked back at them. And then back at me. Then this smile broke out on his face- one that told me he knew. He knew I was his. He knew I was his mama. And not only did he know it- but he agreed with it. He chose me.

I don't understand all that Joab comprehends and doesn't. But there was something in this moment that told me he understood that he was no longer alone, no longer without a family, no longer without hope. It was as if he was declaring 'no more' to the old, and 'keep it comin' to the new.

There may be a lot of beautiful things about adoption. But, oh. To witness the moment when a child realizes they're not an orphan anymore- the beauty simply overflows. Why? Because it proves God really is who He says He is. And that He does what He says He can do. He can take the old and make it new...He can take the lost and make them found...He can and does set the lonely in families. Praise God that He does. And praise God that He did and will do with my son- may Joab feel ever more secure in the hope God has set before him, and may I be continually joyous to be a part of it.

His Twin

As often as I think about Joab's birth mother, I am reminded of his twin- that for the beginning years of his life, he was part of a pair. Alone in his crib now, I'm sure there was once a time when he was never without her- maybe they even wore matching outfits all the time like me and my sister. And yet now, they are separated from each other.

I have had to do a lot of guess work to fill in the gaps of the story I have been told regarding their being apart, and I have to be honest, I have not found it in me to give much grace to the situation. I was told that the twins lived together at the same transit home when they first entered "the system," but that Eunice was moved to a home for older children once she reached the appropriate age. You see, Eunice is a typically developing child, and so moved right up with the other kids when she was almost 2 years old. Donald, on the other hand, was not typically developing. He didn't move, speak, attend, play, or interact like others his age (and apparently like his twin sister), but instead seemed to have a developmental delay- and so he was left behind to stay with the younger kids.

When Donald's social worker told me all of this, and then proceeded to tell me that she had recently been adopted by an American family in Washington- my heart sunk. Separated from his twin by an entire world, let alone ocean and continent. I left the meeting that day running it over and over again in my head- they couldn't have known. That family could not have known that they were leaving behind her brother. They would never do something like that, would they?

The day I brought Joab home, I spoke again with his social worker. "Oh, I will have to give you the contact information for his twin's adoptive family. They will be so happy to know that God has finally found a home for her brother. Maybe you could visit them sometime?"

Here's the part where I find grace hard to, well...find. They knew. They knew that as they took home their precious baby girl and tucked her into her brand new bed that her twin brother still lay alone in his crib. Alone, except for the 30 other toddlers laying in cribs around the room of the orphanage where they lived. They knew.

Now, I am fully aware that I could be wrong. I could have been told something incorrectly, or filled in gaps in ways I should not- but the premise of the story is not unique. The reality is that orphans who have special needs very seldomly get adopted by western families. Lots of excuses on our end add up to millions of children who just disappear into the crisis, unnoticed amongst the millions of other orphans in the world.

I cannot do anything about what has already separated Joab and his sister (and whether or not we will ever visit them, I am not sure), but I can certainly work to see that such a thing becomes less and less of a reality. I can work to see that orphans and vulnerable children who have disabilities are cared for and loved as they need and deserve, and not left alone in their cribs to waste away. More details on how I and Special Hope Network plan to do this later...

For now, I will ask you to pray for her. And for him. And for them. Oh yeah, and for me- pray that God would separate in me the anger that is necessary and not; that is righteous and proud, that I may move forward in my thoughts and actions in a way that is pleasing and honoring to Him- the Father of all fatherless.

What is Happening to Them?

Last week, when I met with a Zambian social worker and asked her this question, she didn't have an answer for me. "So, you are saying that if/when a child with a disability is abandoned or orphaned, there is nowhere for them to go?" Her simple “there is nowhere” hardly seemed like an answer at all. I wanted to stand up out of my chair and yell "Then where do they go? What is happening to them?"

And though I did not do so then, it is still a question that must be asked; one that deserves a proper answer. I understand that currently in Zambia (and most other southern African countries) there is nowhere for orphaned or abandoned children with disabilities, especially intellectual disabilities, to go. We have not yet found a place that will knowingly and willfully take such a child. But here is the thing, once abandoned or orphaned, these children don't just evaporate- so what is happening to them?

Perhaps the best (I use the word 'best' to mean the most satisfying amongst a very dissatisfactory list of options) answer comes in the form of statistics most widely recognized by the World Health Organization. For starters, 4 out of 5 of them die before they reach their fifth birthday (WHO states that in the developing world, the mortality rate of children with disabilities under age 5 is 80%). And since 95% of the worlds' 163 million orphans (numbers reported by UNICEF) are over the age of 5, speculation and extrapolation would lead one to assume there actually aren't very many orphans who have disabilities in the developing world. Most of them simply don't live long enough to have the chance to be abandoned or orphaned.

And so what is the rest of the world doing with these sorry attempts to explain what is happening to children with disabilities? For the most part, nothing. This week, UN leaders from across the globe met to discuss progress (or non-progress) in accomplishing the Millennium Development Goals set for Africa. These 8 objectives were compiled in 1990 and were slated to be achieved by 2015- and with only 5 years left and 'the current pace insufficient to meet the target,' I suppose it seemed about time to hold a summit in order to rally towards the finish line. While these leaders met in NY to discuss strategy and plans for Africa- my guess is that an entire people group was left out the development discussion. Rights for people with disabilities are not explicitly mentioned in any of the MDG's. Sure, one of the goals is to achieve 'universal' primary education for children in Africa- so children with disabilities must be included in that, right? Pretty big goal to accomplish within the next 5 years, considering the fact that currently only 2% of children with disabilities in Africa are enrolled in school. My guess is that they didn’t actually mean universal.

Politicians are one thing, but what about on an individual and family level- what are actual people around the world doing for African children with disabilities? Inter-country adoption has been on the rise for years, and yet children with disabilities are hardly ever the ones to be picked. The demand remains for healthy (well, relatively), typically developing adoptees, and therefore, orphans with special needs remain on waiting lists. “Oh, our family just couldn’t handle the needs of a child with disabilities. The best interest of the child would certainly mean choosing not to adopt them into our family.” And when you have a whole host of people looking out for the ‘best interest’ of these children in this way, you end up with a whole lot of children with ‘nowhere’ to go.

But then again, why would one expect the rest of the world to act, when the abortion rates of children with disabilities are increasing in almost every Western nation? I doubt the UN leader from France would be the one to recognize the missing piece of the development puzzle (the abortion rate of children who have Down syndrome in France is right around 90%).

You see, “What is happening to them?” is a question that actually needs to be asked in most places around the world, developed or not. There must be better answers out there somewhere, even if only in the fantasies of a few hopeful world-changing individuals. It is my own hope that some of those crazy dreams for kids with disabilities somehow become reality- my own wild aspirations included.

Further reading:
MDG's- http://www.un.org/millenniumgoals/
WHO- http://www.who.int/disabilities/media/events/idpdinfo031209/en/

World Visioning

With all the excitement of the keyboard, I nearly forgot to update you all on the really cool day we had working with World Vision in a rural area outside Lusaka. We had met the Zambian Director of Operations at a small church we visited several weeks ago. Eric and he had a good initial conversation, and so scheduled a meeting to go into more detail about what it might look like for World Vision and Special Hope to do some work together here in Zambia. After a great meeting and a couple weeks passing, we got a phone call asking if we would assist one of their field teams in assessing several children who had disabilities in an area called Chongwe, east of the city. Of course, we eagerly agreed, and were picked up at 10:30 (standard Zambian time, half an hour late) this morning to join the team.

After a nice drive, chatting with the workers about dowries men have to pay for their brides (one woman in the car was given for 10 cows, which is pretty dang good here in Zambia), we arrived at the field office located just outside of a small village. We were ushered into a room, where 3 families were waiting for us with their 4 children.

I don't mean to pick favorites, but for the sake of time I will write about the highlight of our visit- a little boy named Ignatius who had Down syndrome. We recognized it right away with those cute almond eyes, small little ears, and sticky-out tongue that we love so much- he was just adorable. We began assessing him by asking the standard first questions we ask- about the birthing, about when the family first realized he was developing differently than other children, etc. His father told us that he was born normally, and the doctors told them he was 'fine, but sometimes children are born this way when their parents are old,' and then sent them on their way. Since then, the father told us, he has just been different than other kids and he's not sure why.

Eric and I (who were representing Special Hope for this trip) looked at each other with the realization that this father did not know his ten year-old son had Down syndrome. How could that be? He was a sponsored child with World Vision, for goodness sake- how could they not know that he had Down syndrome?

We spent the next half hour talking with this dad about his wonderfully made son- describing all the unique things about kids who have Down syndrome and how to best work with him to learn and understand. Although I am sure we completely overwhelmed this parent- I think there was also a glimpse of hope in his eyes; a sigh of relief to know that his son wasn't some mutant or weirdo- that there are actually lots of kids just like him.

With each beautiful child I get to meet, I feel more and more privilege to be a part of this crazy ministry. Pray with me, won't you, for Ignatius (first of all, pray that one day he might be able to say his own name, because with a name like Ignatius, it's gonna take a lot of work) and for his dad that they might feel loved and cared for today. Even more, that they might know that God has richly blessed them with a son unlike most- a son so uniquely created for the display of the glory of God.

Tucka Luv

Oh Maggie. There are so many moments during the day that I wish I could get inside that Buggy brain of hers and understand what is going on. Whether it's things she says (or doesn't say), or things she does (or doesn't do)- there are just so many things I cannot figure out about her.

For example- lately Mags has begun saying a particular phrase. At first, she only said it when a good song would come on the iPod. But then, she began inserting it into random times of the day as well. I have asked her several times to explain its meaning, and have even interrogated Sam to see if he knew anything about its derivative or connotation. Maggie's reply consisted of a wide-eyed stare and two kisses. Sam responded by explaining that it just means "Tucka Luv." Very helpful, I know.

Figuring out the complex meaning and emotion behind this phrase is only one of the many facets of figuring out, knowing, and loving Maggie. The reality is- I will never figure her out, or ever get it right. Most likely, I will not ever get to know what's behind the phrase, at least not on this side of eternity. Maybe there will be a day when I get to ask her to explain it all, and when she will be able to describe every detail- just maybe there will be a day when we are able to communicate with each other in a way that we both understand.

But for now, I will delight in the glimpses of understanding the Lord has given me. For those of you who know her know that it is an absolute privilege to be let into the world of Mags- even if your time there only lasts a few minutes. For now, I will take those minutes whenever she chooses to give them to me, and pray that the Lord would continue to give me insight into speaking her language so that she might know how much I really love her. As she might say (but then again, I may be using the phrase out of context), so that she might know how much a tucka luv her.

Why it's Worth It

Of course, the day after I write about being frustrated with all the paperwork, etc- I would get to go to this place-

The Chelstone Clinic














...and get to meet this little guy-


Francis.




















Is he not the most precious little man you have ever seen? He is 8 months old, and his mother found out he had Down syndrome 3 weeks ago. The volunteer physiotherapist at the clinic (where I was today) told her, since other doctors had never noticed before. We were so excited to meet this little guy, and look forward to more conversations with his parents in the future.

I do declare- I will stand in as many lines, wait in as many offices, stick in as much traffic, and attempt to get as much done as possible if it leads to more mornings with kids like Francis.

A Father to the Fatherless

Though the holiday certainly has me missing my Dad more than usual, I still got a chance to celebrate today. It was a different kind of celebrating than I have done in the past, and directed towards a different Father. Today, I got to be a part of God's being 'a Father to the fatherless' in the life of a boy...

Remember him? He was the first boy we met here in Lusaka, and the first one we found to be in desperate need of a specialized chair to fit his teeny body. We hired a carpenter who lives down the street from us, and he built us a beautiful chair- just right for a little guy with CP. Today, we picked it up and took it to this little guy's house.

When we arrived, the boy's mother (who loves him dearly) was literally speechless at the sight of a chair just for him. Can you imagine living 8 years and having no one really care for your child? I bet it was hard to believe us when we promised her this chair; maybe even harder to believe that we actually came through and were able to give her the chair for absolutely free (thanks to a grant received by Special Hope for the specific purpose of providing specialized seating devices for those in need).




This little guy's mother was so thankful. His father, however, was nowhere to be found. Apparently, he took the day- the whole weekend, actually, to celebrate his being a 'father' at the neighborhood bar. When this sweet mom explained to us about his whereabouts, the look on her face did not seem to share in his celebration.

So won't you celebrate with me today- that God is who He says he is- a Father to the fatherless. Always has been, always will be. Thank goodness He is, especially for the sake of this particular boy and his mom.

"A father to the fatherless, and a protector of the widow is God in His holy habitation."
Psalm 68:5

Beyond the Concept

While I think the picture of running the race is helpful, it seems necessary to go beyond the imagery. Running with orphans with intellectual disabilities strapped to my back may be a creative spin, but in order for any worth to be attached to the picture- it must go from the abstract to the concrete.

It's not just a concept, you see. If the idea is ever going to mean anything (to actual children and to the Lord, Himself), caring for orphans with intellectual disabilities must be much more than that. It's a Jamesian argument of sorts- just as faith without works is dead and useless (James 2:20, 26)- it would seem that abstract ideas without concrete outworkings are just as pointless.

So to give meaning to the otherwise futile, this post is to share what it's really about- it's about twin girls, born Anna Claudia and Anna Carolina, both with Down syndrome, in Sao Paulo, Brazil. Caring for them meant taking them out of the hospital where they were abandoned, and bringing them home. It meant taking them to Boston Children's for surgery so that their hearts could be fixed. It meant years of learning and loving as they grew into the young women God purposed them to be- Maggie and Mollie.

Mollie, if you've had the pleasure to meet her, will surely and quickly engage you in a conversation about her favorite things- all of which are food-related. If God gifts you with the patience and perseverance to decipher her unique dialect, and if Mollie, herself, deems you a worthy audience, she'll tell you just how much she loves guacamole, especially when it's from Chipotle. She may even, with her beautiful voice, sing you one of her favorite hymns- Great is Thy Faithfulness or Amazing Grace are at the top of her list. She has her moods, as any 'I-am-16-going-on-17' year-old girl would, though they are usually dissolved into jumping-up-and-down-dance-partying Mollie just as soon as the next good song comes on the iPod.

Maggie, if you've been granted special access into her world, will most certainly be found the most adorable girl you've ever met. She is currently sitting near me, calling my name ('Beff') every few minutes, and blowing me kisses. Her kind servant's heart is unlike any I've ever seen- there is surely no teenage girl willing to help her Mama in the kitchen as much as Maggie (those of you from church also know she is quite ready to stack chairs whenever the opportunity arises). Her creature-of-habitness does not allow us to ever miss a prayer before dinner, though her love of food occasionally allows a few bites to sneak in before grace is said. While her words are much fewer than her brother (though it's not actually difficult to have fewer words than Sam) and sister, her sweet smile speaks more than any I know.

Learning and loving these girls has been one of my chief joys over the past few months, though I know there is so much of them still unknown to me. They are beyond delightful just as they are- and yet I somehow end up with a double blessing, as I know that God is using them to teach and prepare me for the ones I have yet to learn and love. They have taught me beyond the concept of loving orphans with intellectual disabilities- they have taught me and allowed me the opportunity to actually and simply love.

How Lovely is His Dwelling Place*

The idea of the Lord's "dwelling place" is quite nice, isn't it? I'm sure many of you have heard and sung the contemporary worship song "Better is One Day"...

"How lovely is Your dwelling place,
oh Lord Almighty
My soul longs and even faints for You.

One thing I ask and I would seek,
to see Your beauty
To find You in the place Your glory dwells."

Though the song pulls lines from different psalms of David, the idea is consistent- there is beauty and glory to be found in the dwelling place of the Lord. No wonder we claim it would be better to spend a day there than a thousand elsewhere- it sounds like a delightful place to be.

The church is again and again called by Scripture to keep our minds fixed on the eternity we will spend in the presence of the beautifully glorious Lord Almighty, and so songs like this one and the psalms of David are helpful in directing our hearts towards that end.

But what about God's dwelling place here on earth? What does the Word have to say about the place God chooses to dwell here in the earthly, temporal realm?

A father of the fatherless and judge for the widows, is God in His holy habitation. Psalm 68:5

It seems there is a long list of verses that agree with this one- that God consistently chooses His dwelling place to be with those who are weak and afflicted. Jesus, Himself, is clear about this in Matthew 25-

"Come you blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: for I was hungry and you gave Me food; I was thirsty and you gave Me drink; I was a stranger and you took me in; I was naked and you clothed Me; I was sick and you visited me; I was in prison and you came to Me."

Then the righteous will answer Him, saying, "Lord when did we see You hungry and feed You, or thirsty and give You drink? When did we see You a stranger and take You in, or naked and clothe You? Or when did we see You sick, or in prison and come to You?"

And the King will answer and say to them "Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me."

Here, Jesus does not simply claim to dwell with the hungry, thirsty, strange, naked, sick, and imprisoned- He claims to BE them. By reading this passage, God's chosen dwelling place on this earth is made very clear- the adjectives used to describe it, however, are not as lovely-sounding. I'm not sure my heart and flesh would so easily long for such a place, and I really don't know that I would choose to spend a day in any of those circumstances. Certainly not when my current dwelling place allows me to be satiated, familiar, clothed, healthy, and free.

But what if those places are really where the beauty and glory of the Lord is to be found? What if God actually does choose the weak things of the world as His dwelling place? What would it mean for little guys like this one...


He has been labeled by the world as worthless- so much so that they have placed him in a brick holding room, where he is never permitted to leave. He has AIDS and an intellectual disability, and is passed small amounts of food through the hole from which this picture was taken. I bet he is indeed hungry and thirsty, feeling naked and like a stranger, is very sick and certainly imprisoned. So what if our responsibility to him is actually the same as our responsibility to Him? What if we actually have to stand before Jesus one day and explain why we left Him sitting in His lonely (and not so lovely) dwelling place? Will we ever get to enjoy the Lord in His heavenly dwelling place if we choose not to join Him in His earthly dwelling place of suffering?

In order that we might not be the ones to whom Jesus says "Depart from Me, you cursed, into the everlasting fire prepared for the devil and his angels," (Matt 25:41) may He give us grace to pray as David did and to continue to sing this song, but perhaps, with a new understanding of that which we are asking. May our eyes be opened, and then fixed, to the beauty and glory of God that is so uniquely displayed in orphans with intellectual disabilities.

*I wrote this for the Special Hope Network blog, which you can find at www.specialhopenetwork.com. It is updated weekly, and explains a lot more about what God has called us to do. Check out the website if you have not yet!

Speaking for Those Who Cannot

One of the first things we (Special Hope Network) hope to do is to speak on behalf of orphans with intellectual disabilities. Over the past few weeks, I have gotten the chance to speak to various people (ie- friends, family, neighbors on planes, fellow waiting-roomers, church missions committees, etc) in various ways (ie- letters, emails, phone calls, random conversations, presentations, blog posts, etc :). As I have done so, God has convinced me more and more of the necessity, even imperativity* of my doing so.

While our generation seems to have no trouble speaking for ourselves, it seems we often forget to speak on behalf of others, especially those weaker than us. But perhaps, we are actually not very different than any other generation in our tendency to forget. Solomon's address in Proverbs 31 seems to suggest that his own sons, the princes of Israel (to whom he is writing) were not unlike us...

"Open your mouth for those who cannot speak, for the rights of all the unfortunate. Open your mouth, judge righteously, and defend the rights of the afflicted and needy."

As emphasized by his repetitious words, it seems it was just as easy for people in Solomon's time to forget the weakest ones of the world. He says twice "open your mouth." The easier thing, and therefore our natural tendency is to remain silent, but Solomon commands that we speak! It is our responsibility as the people of God- we must speak for those who cannot speak, love those who are not loved, and even more defend the rights of the needy, perhaps even needy ones like this one-


He is an orphan with an intellectual disability. In this picture, he is eating one of his two weekly meals. If he continues to go uncared-for, he will most likely die of malnutrition. He has been forgotten by the world, but is deeply loved by Jesus Christ.



Will you join me in asking for a heart like God's- one that loves little guys like him? I pray that God would convict and increase my heart all the more, that I might speak His truth on behalf of orphans with disabilities. As I speak, I pray that the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart would be pleasing to Him (Ps 19:14), and that to Him would be all the blessing, honor, glory, and power (Rev 5:13). Amen.

*I confess to making up words, especially ones that sound as good as "imperativity."

It's All for Ernie

So our dining room-office has become less and less cozy as we see the Nelsons' move-out day approaching. The Nelsons have given away/gotten rid of a lot of their things- including their dining room table where I used to sit and work. I now send all my emails while sitting in a plastic folding chair, at a plastic folding table. The only real warmth in the room is provided by the still-up Christmas tree (who is dying slowly, but surely), Zuzu the dog's slobber, and whatever yummy food Holly has made (slobber and yummy in the same sentence doesn't really work, does it?).

As a way of comforting his dear wife, and reminding us all why we are leaving everything behind to go to this even-less-comfortable-than-we-are-now country, Eric put some pictures up on the wall. For those of you imagining Eric sitting with his coloring books and markers, let me clarify that these are not pictures Eric drew, but instead ones that he took in Africa.

Where there once were family pictures and mementos adorning the Nelsons' walls and shelves, they are now photographs of African children. They are the most adorable little ones- with beautiful brown skin, dark hair, and beautiful smiles. They are all orphaned, living with an intellectual disability; some are HIV positive, some are dealing with full blown AIDS.

Can I tell you about my favorite little guy? His name is Ernie and he lives in South Africa. There is something about the look in his crossed-eyes that stirs the depths of my heart. I find myself glancing back at him throughout the day, longing to be done with the development phase of this ministry, and ready to jump into the "doing" phase. I long for the day when the emails will be put on pause, and I will simply get to hold ones just like Ernie.

As we are not yet in the "doing" phase, Ernie's little face is enough for now. It will get me through the phone calls, mailings, and meetings. I wish I could post his picture (I cannot for specific reasons) so you could see what I mean. I'm certain you would agree- he makes it all worth it.

To All People, Even Them

"Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which will be to all people."

I love this part of the story. Out of all the people in the world, who does God choose to tell first about the birth of His Son- "country shepherds living out in the fields." God chooses a few of the world's least important people and writes them into the most important narrative ever written.

I love this part of the story because it reminds me of God's preferential choice for the weak ones of the world. Throughout the Bible, God seems always to choose the unlikely ones to carry out His plans. I love this part of the story because it gives me hope for my sometimes seemingly unimportant life. If He chose shepherds to be a part of His story, maybe God would use my weak life to show His glory too?

I also love this part of the story because it gives me hope for the lives of the orphans for whom my heart breaks. Although so many would say they aren't worth it, He says that they are. Although so many have forgotten them, He has not. Although so many would argue them as invaluable, He chooses to make them into beautiful vessels of His glory.

Tonight, as I'm sitting by the Christmas tree with hot cider, I can't get them off my mind. I am wishing I could be there to tell them how much they are loved by the God who made them. I am wishing I could demonstrate that they are not a regretable mistake, nor an unfortunate accident. I am wishing I could share with them good tidings of great joy- for He came for them, the weak ones of the world. When no one else would, He came to love them.

I love this part of the story because it changes everything for them. And although it may not look that way for each of them tonight, it will someday. And tonight, I am hopeful of that day- when He will come in His fullness and there indeed will be...

"Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men."