Striving

I have been reflecting on the verb “to strive” of late. In part, I suppose, because I find myself striving so much. When my head hits the pillow at night, I simply switch from physically striving to mentally striving as I turn over new ideas in my mind. Now, while the fine line between working hard and being a workaholic is lost on me, I am smart enough to know that it matters what you are striving for. I am one who is not prone to strive for worldly things - gold, glory, and girls as Ray, a missionary in Ethiopia, once told me.

Or so I thought.

On the way home from church yesterday we were listening to “Peter and the Sword of Mercy” on CD. Having spent the morning thinking over my motives, I started a conversation around motives at lunch.

“So kids. What do you think motivates the bad guys in this story?” I asked.

“They want the Sword of Mercy!” K.D. said excitedly.

“But why?”

“So they can get the star stuff,” said K.D.

“But why do they want the star stuff?”

“Because they want to rule the world!” said Little Foot.

“Yes, they do. They want to rule the world. They want the power to make everybody do what they want them to do,” I said.

But seeking power is not my vice.

I have been telling myself, “so whether you eat, or drink, or whatever you do, do all for the glory of God.” If it is for God’s glory, then I had better do a fantastic job, I tell myself. And so I strive to do a fantastic job at all of the things that *I* have put on my plate.

But Sunday morning, as my thoughts on striving mingled with the congregation singing “I’d rather have Jesus,” I was not able to convince myself that my motives were so pure.

“I’d rather have Jesus than men’s applause,” we sang.

“Glory,” I could hear Ray saying. One of the three things we men strive for.

So do I strive to do things well for God’s glory or for my own? I fear that is another line that is lost on me.

Lord, help me to live for Your glory and not my own.

Something to be Thankful For

“So what would happen if we did not have these antibiotics?” my father asked his doctor as the doctor wrote out a prescription. My father had developed a fever as his body was fighting off of an infection and he was curious which would win – the infection or his body.

“Well, before we had these antibiotics, people died from this,” the doctor replied.

As my father was later relaying this story to me, we were both struck by how much we take for granted the life-saving medicines that are readily available to us.

I reflect on this conversation every time I have a child who would likely die if it were not for modern antibiotics.

Last weekend was one of those times.

Ed developed an internal infection that led to a soaring fever and abdominal pain. After 12 hours of tests and debates among doctors in the emergency room, the root cause was discovered. IV antibiotics were injected into her veins and she was admitted to the hospital for close observation.


Ed responded well to the antibiotics and she is back home with us now, although the sum total of her activity each day has been to move from her bed to the couch in the morning and then move back to her bed at night.

This most recent event has caused me to reflect on how many children I would have lost already without access to medical care. By my count, the number is three. But the divide between “would have lost” and “have lost” is so enormous that the two hardly seem related. I recall reading a news article that had a photo of an Ethiopian mother holding her dying child. Her despondent face clearly conveyed her pain over the hopelessness of the situation. There were no doctors, or enough food for that matter, and her child was going to die.

Naively, I thought it could not be worse for this mother. But I was wrong. She actually had three kids and this was the third time she was holding one as they died. Such pain is too great for me; I cannot come to terms with it.

So this Thanksgiving, as I see Ed moping around the house, I am truly thankful for how access to modern medicine will allow all of my family to be together on Thanksgiving day. As I look at my family, however, I also see beyond them to the families of Ethiopia and I realize that I need to do more for them.

Faith in the New Year

As a part of our family’s New Year’s Eve festivities last night we watched WALL-E. The futuristic movie was slow enough that my mind had time to wander and I found myself contemplating the relevancy of the Christian faith in our modern times and into the future. At moments it can seem like the era on the horizon will render the Bible a collection of stories not worth remembering.

So it was during the time of Prince Caspian (I refer to the book, which was better than the movie, of course). Tales of talking beasts – dwarfs, centaurs, and beavers – as well as Aslan himself had become irrelevant stories to be forgotten under the illegitimate reign of Miraz, Prince Caspian’s uncle. Prince Caspian would have never known about such things except that Miraz unwittingly hired a tutor for Caspian who was secretly half dwarf. As the story unfolded, the truth of Aslan was revealed.

Now while my faith is strengthened by Lewis’s Narnian tales, they are by no means the basis for it and I found myself back in God’s Word this morning. I flipped open my Bible to take in some random passage. Given the recent thoughts swimming through my head, it was with renewed freshness that I took in Hebrews 11 and the surrounding verses. The world’s onslaught against the Christian faith can cause me to tire and “shrink back” (Heb 10:39). But then I consider how faith is “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” (Heb 11:1) and how it has been on vivid display through the ages in Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, Rahab, Gideon, Barak, Sampson, Jephthah, David, Samuel, and the prophets in the Old Testament (Heb 11) as well as countless others from the New Testament times to today.

This “great cloud of witnesses” (Heb 12:1a) testify to God’s faithfulness and relevance in all the ages. When I think of these witnesses, I am inspired to do just what Hebrews calls us to do – to “lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes upon Jesus” (Heb 12:1b-2a).

How brief a moment it takes for me to recall my entangling sin, “for I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me” (Ps 51:3). But one of the beautiful things about a new year is that we take this brief moment to reflect, lay aside encumbrances, gird our loins with truth (Eph 6:14), refocus our eyes on Jesus, and then move on into the new year.

By God’s grace may I be able to lay aside the bad, take up the good, and live for Him this year.

Ties that Bind

During a pre-church laptop session this morning I was trying to put the finishing touches on a Sunday school lesson when I noticed Buddy standing by my side. How long he had been there I could not say given how absorbed I was in my work. Buddy made no demands, seemingly content on watching me fly around on my laptop copying, pasting, reformatting, and printing.

Eventually Buddy said, "Dad, can you tie my tie?"

These words snapped me out of my work and I noticed for the first time the red plaid Christmas tie draped around his neck.

Why these words grab my attention stems from the fact that as a teacher, I occasionally have a privilege that is not mine - teaching a fine young man how to tie a tie. It almost always occurs when a student athlete faces their first game and the team is wearing a tie during the school day in anticipation of the game. Coming to my room with a tie in hand is usually an athlete whose father was not there in the morning to help them put it on, often because the father is no longer in the home.

I immediately rise taking off my tie trying to make it seem natural for me to help him. Standing side-by-side in the gray-walled computer science lab we do a half Windsor knot. I am pleased that I could be there for the moment. It is also a time where I recommit to myself to be there for my boys so that I can be the one who shares this distinctive father-son rite of passage.

Since Buddy is not old enough to tie a tie himself and I can’t do it facing him, I stood behind Buddy reaching around him to do the job. He was all smiles as I wrapped up and I also smiled for I could feel the positive vibes in the air that come from a moment of connectedness - an intimate moment as far as fathers and sons go. I smiled too because I was there to experience the ties that bind a father and a son.

Trusting Chariots?

The unprecedented drop in the stock market this week has reminded me of a question I have struggled with in the past – do I genuinely believe something about myself that is not true?

This thought first struck me years ago when I was reflecting on an exchange between Jesus and Peter in John 13. At the last supper Jesus was explaining to His disciples that He would be going away and they could not yet follow Him. Peter responded to this by saying, “Lord, why can I not follow You right now? I will lay down my life for You." (v. 37)

I believe Peter was genuine in this expression of devotion to Christ and honestly believed that he would be willing to lay down his life. And while in the end Peter did indeed come to a place where he was willing to lay down his life for Jesus, Jesus knew Peter better than himself and answered, “Will you lay down your life for Me? Truly, truly, I say to you, a rooster will not crow until you deny Me three times.” (v.38)

Will I do what I think I will do? It is hard to know until the time comes.

Well the time has come for me to see if my belief that I do not put too much confidence in my financial investments is really true or not. This week I have been standing outside of myself watching me watching the market. On the one hand I say, “See, I don’t value our investments too much! I am sleeping fine at night and am not stressed out over it all.” On the other hand, I look at CrazyMom and see what it looks like to really not be emotionally involved in the markets. I see from her that I still have some room to grow.

Some trust in chariots and some in horses,
but we trust in the name of the Lord our God.
Psalm 20:7

Numbed by Life

I printed off our monthly calendar the other day and after it rolled off the printer a second page came out. The second page listed all of the overflow items that did not fit into the tidy squares on the calendar. Needless to say, life is really busy right now.

There is me trying to get ready for teaching school and CrazyMom trying to get ready for teaching home school. There is having our kids on five different soccer teams. I am turning over a rental and teaching Sunday school. Then there is the impending family trip over Labor Day.

All of it has just left me numb. I smile on the outside, but life is joyless on the inside.

I admit that I have a full life and I am often operating at maximum capacity. Usually it is OK but then I hit a stretch of a week or two when it is just too much. There is nobody to blame but myself. Philosophically, I know God only gives me enough to fill my plate and it is me who adds the other stuff to make it too full. I just have a hard time knowing what things to say no to.

As I mechanically go through my days I have not lost hope because my calendar shows me things will ease in about two weeks. There is light at the end of the tunnel.

This makes me reflect on those who have real problems. Problems that suffocate you for which there is no light at the end of the tunnel. Problems that numb you to the core and make life a hopeless blur. As Ethiopia’s food crisis continues in the very region our children are from, faces come to my mind - faces of mothers trying to find food for their children in a dry and weary land.

My numbing stretch will pass in a matter of weeks. Their numbing stretch will last much longer. And when it does pass, will it be too late for their children?

Prescription Drugs

A few years back my father developed a sickness that was accompanied by a fever. His doctor diagnosed the problem and wrote out a prescription. “What would have happened if I lived before our era of prescription drugs?” my father asked. “You would have died,” replied the doctor. What used to drive us to the grave now compels us to go to the pharmacy to get our prescriptions filled.

All three of the children we have brought into our home from Ethiopia have come with some medical conditions. As the doctor describes what they have it sometimes seems serious because they are not the type of things we have here in the States. Then he writes out a prescription and instructs us to make sure they take a particular pill for a few days.

The simplicity of it all is amazing - take the magic pill for however many days and then this thing they have been living with for years will go away. It is far easier than dipping in the Jordan.

Not only is it simple, I get paid to do it. I drive to Giant Eagle with my $1-off-per-gallon-of-gas-for-a-new-prescription coupon which saves me $30 in gas. Sometimes the drug is on the 400 drugs for $4 list and I end up making $26 bucks on the deal. If not, I pay the $10 co-pay and only make $20.

When administering a prescription drug to my kids, I will tap one of the magic pills out of the bottle and into the palm of my hand. As I look at it I reflect on what good this pill will work in my child’s body. I also reflect on how our world has been structured in such a way that many people don’t have access to the medicine they need.

James tells us: If a brother or sister is without clothing and in need of daily food, and one of you says to them, "Go in peace, be warmed and be filled," and yet you do not give them what is necessary for their body, what use is that? (James 2:15-16)

I am truly blessed to live in a home where I have access to the prescription drugs that my family needs. But I must not forget those who do not and I must find a way to try to get them “what is necessary for their bodies.”

Forever Changed

After 19 hours on a plane from Ethiopia, CrazyMom, Anna, and I landed at Dulles airport. When we cleared customs and immigration we had to go through security again to get back to where all of the gates were for our next flight. We were selected for a special intense high tech security search. It appeared to me that we were selected to provide some diversity to the middle aged dark-skinned males who were also selected for the special search. We eventually made it through and were off for our gate.

Then it happened. I saw a mom at the bottom of the escalator we were on who was about the same age as CrazyMom. She was cheerily shepherding her four blond-haired birth kids through the crowd. Envy crept over me as I remembered my life with just four birth kids. But those days are gone now and there is no going back.

I have these envy episodes from time to time. As I enter a restaurant and see two young lovers sitting by a window at a dainty table for two engrossed in deep conversation, an envy episode can start. As I stand there with children in my arms and at my feet and multiple waiters around me trying to pull together enough tables for my family to sit down, I remember when it was CrazyMom and me at the table for two by the window. But those days are gone now and there is no going back.

At each stage in life it seems like I have gone through an irreversible transformation that has brought more people into my inner sphere - from being a single to being a husband, from being a husband to being a birth dad, from being a birth dad to being an adoptive dad.

Each expansion of my inner sphere has brought less time for me and it is my selfish side that kick-starts the envy episodes. But after a moment it fades because I look around me and see my wife and all of my kids and I feel the richness and the significance of living for others rather than for self. Yes, it was fun in the early days when it was just CrazyMom and me. But I have been forever changed and the fun of yesteryear has been replaced with the joy of today.

Partners in Health

On Wednesday I had the opportunity to hear Dr. Paul Farmer speak. Dr. Farmer was a founder of Partners in Health. It was significant for me to see his life and how he has accomplished so much in helping improve the health of poor people around the world.

He shared many powerful thoughts during his talk, but I am going to pass along just two maps he brought to my attention from WorldMapper.org. In this first map, each country is drawn so that it's size shows the proportion of people from the ages of 15-49 who are HIV positive. If you look hard, you might be able to see Africa on the map.


In this next map of the world, each country is drawn showing the proportion of physicians working in the country. If you look hard, you might be able to see Africa on the map.

Something Breaks Through

Today I sat in a school assembly and heard students speak of their time this summer helping with the aftermath of hurricane Katrina. I witnessed high school boys who were moved by what they saw and compelled to share it with us with raw emotion.

It reminded me of Melissa Fay Greene recounting when the HIV/orphan crisis broke through to her. It was a summer Sunday morning in 2000 while reading a NYT article. Melissa was never the same again and the course of her life was changed. So it will be for these boys.

These things that are somehow at a distance - the stuff that we hear about but don't witness for ourselves, the stuff that is all important but gets thrown out with the daily paper - when it does get through to us there is an irreversible direction about it. Once it has touched us, there is no going back.

No one says it better than Sarah Groves in her song about her experience in Rwanda.

I saw what I saw and I can't forget it.
I heard what I heard and I can't go back.
I know what I know and I can't deny it.



And so it is for me. I know what I know and I can't deny it. There is no going back.

CrazyD's Icca

An Ethiopian adoption changes things in more ways than just having additional kids in the house. My perception of my own materialism has also been changing.

62 full size dinner plates

When we were in Ethiopia visiting with some new missionary friends, they spoke of the effort it took to sell all that they had in order to free themselves from America: the business, the primary house, the cars, the beds, the couches, the blenders, the tools, the lawn mower. . .

2 refrigerators and 2 chest freezers

They did not sell all that they had. They kept the second home, the photos, and the family heirlooms. They also kept a host of other things that makes them really wealthy: access to clean water, access to health care, and access to bank accounts.

107 shirts for CrazyD - full family count too painful

This family tells me that many Ethiopians want to come to America - to be Americans. Americans have so much icca, "stuff" in Amharic. And they want icca, too.

3 cars

They want icca? I want less icca. They don't know what if feels like to be claustrophobic in a multi-thousand square foot home. Our home is only cleaned up if everything is skillfully packed/stacked/stored into closets/corners/crawl spaces with the same care as packing a suitcase.

9 bikes, 1 tag-a-long, 1 two seat child trailer, 4 scooters, 3 big wheels, and 1 wagon

But when I am honest with myself, I realize that I don't want less of my stuff. I want less of the kids' stuff and less of CrazyMom's stuff. My stuff is already trim. What I have, I tell myself, is necessary and important. I want to clear the house of all of the junk. The McDonald's Happy Meal toys, the birthday party grab bag items, participation trophies, broken toys of sentimental value, rarely used placemats, half of CrazyMom's shoes, and the fish.

9 sinks

But now, in my post-adoptive state, I am beginning to realize that I am the one with the icca problem. The solution to my icca problem is not to pick up a copy of "Storage Systems for Success" or "The Art of Clutter Clearing." This is not the solution because even if the clutter were cleared and the rest was neat and tidy, I would still have an icca problem. My problem is that I use my limited time and resources to take care of my stuff.

185 music CDs

It was not just my trip to Ethiopia that changed my thinking, it was adopting. Adopting Ethiopian children has given me a heart for the people of Ethiopia in a way that just traveling there would not. In my home I now get to see Ethiopian children side-by-side with all of my icca, and all of the icca is pretty icky compared to them.

1,252 books - not counting the books in the crawl space

I now realize that I have bought into the American lie while believing I had not. The American lie tells me that I need something that I don't have, right now, and that that something will make my life a little better/happier/easier/more fulfilling. That a new gas grill will in some way satisfy me more than sponsoring an orphan in need.

1 hockey table, 1 foosball table, 1 skee-ball table, 1 Basket Brawl

I have always told myself that I am not materialistic. I don't drive fancy cars, we shop at thrift stores, I would rather go to jail than to a mall, and I don't own an iPod - yet. But I now realize that this is not true. I am materialistic. Look at what I own. And deep inside of me I am beginning to feel that there is some conflict between what I own and my desire to care for orphans.

1 four drawer filing cabinet and 4 two drawer filing cabinets

A conflict between owning stuff and helping orphans? In America, this is an absurd thing to say. These things don't seem mutually exclusive. In America, it seems the more I own the more I will be able to give away. But now I am beginning to wonder.

3 film cameras, 3 digital cameras, a host of lenses, and 1 digital video camera

In my hands I see all of the worldly possessions that I own and my fingers are wrapped around them. All around me I see people in need and I want to lend a hand. But I can't. My hands are full.

No time for Johnny who is hurting. I need to mow/mulch/trim/pull weeds/spray/fertilize.
No time for Sally who is down. I need to pick up/repair/refinish/rearrange/install.
No time to care for God's people. I need to care for my stuff.

1 large stereo, 3 portable stereos

Christ stood on the edge of the Sea of Galilee. He called to Simon Peter and his brother Andrew.

"Follow Me, and I will make you fishers of men."

Here is what Scripture says that they did: "And they immediately left their nets, and followed him." (Matt 5:20)

They left it all behind. Nets, boats, and fishing gear are the things that keeps us from being able to go along with Christ. Michael Card has a song about this scene with the line:

"And it's hard to imagine the freedom we find
From the things we leave behind"

Father God, I pray that you will cause my fingers to uncurl so that my hands are free to do Your work in this world. Amen.

1 life to give

"You Are Doing Such a Good Thing"

"You are doing such a good thing."
"It is wonderful. We all are so proud of you."
"You’re a good man, Charlie Brown."

All of these things and more have been said to me. Each time I smile, nod, and say an honest, "Thank you."

But I wince inside.

I don't wince because the people are not genuine; just the opposite is true. And not because I am too humble to receive the praise; sadly I am not. For a long time I was not even sure why I was troubled. It has been something that I have been thinking about for months now.

Other "good deeds" that I carry out elicit no such response from people. Nobody comments on the common or the expected nice things that I do. When I loan out my truck, the recipient thanks me. No one else thanks me, because loaning out a truck is a common good deed for truck owners. When I take my son Buddy to the emergency room there is no fanfare because although the deed is uncommon (well, sort of), it is expected.

But adopting orphans from Ethiopia. Now there is an event that is neither common nor expected. And so it is noteworthy. "You are doing such a good thing," they say.

Now I understand why the comment makes me wince. When someone speaks those words it testifies to the fact that what I am doing is uncommon and unexpected.

But the need is so great. The children are so beautiful. Life is so precious. They are "made in the image of God." Why should caring for orphans be uncommon and unexpected?

I dream of a world where all children are cherished. A world where we spend more time and energy securing the future of the world's children than securing the future of the world's oil reserves. A world where caring for orphans is common and expected.

I dream of a world where it would not occur to anyone to say, "Your doing such a good thing" to an orphan-adopting dad.

How Bad Is It?

Sometimes I wonder how bad the orphan situation really is. The UNICEF report certainly paints a dim picture. The title on the cover ("Excluded and Invisible") almost seems cheery compared to what is reported in the back tables (700,000 orphans due to HIV/AIDS in Ethiopia . . . 4,000,000 orphans due to all causes in Ethiopia . . . 42 million orphans in Sub-Saharan Africa . . . 143 million orphans in the world).

But what does it mean? I just can't seem to wrap either my mind or my heart around such numbers.

Then a vignette.

CrazyMom and I were walking last October through an airport changing planes on our way back from an Ethiopian adoption conference. We ducked into one of those sandwich shops that put on a façade of being upscale with the only supporting evidence being the prices they charge. We were (and still are) in the early stages of being able to recognize the origin of people, but the woman helping us appeared to have the look of one from the horn of Africa. Debating between Somalia and Ethiopia, I guessed she was from Somalia since a brightly covered scarf covered her head (there are more Muslims in Somalia than Ethiopia).

"Do you mind me asking if you are from Somalia?" I asked.

"I am from Ethiopia," she responded.

"Really?!?! We are adopting from Ethiopia and we are on our way home from a conference about it," I said hoping my enthusiasm would be shared by her. In some way I want every Ethiopian to approve of me parenting a child from their country.

The conversation turned. The enthusiasm that I had injected into the air now quickly turned to urgency. The receipt was already being ejected from the register and others in line behind us were inching forward into our personal space.

"Please," she said. "My friend is dying and she has a daughter. Can you do something for this girl?"

She went on with a few particulars, giving the town where they live. She did not seem to care if we were good parents, had a tidy home study done, were properly fingerprinted, had taken the mandatory training classes, or that we were white Americans. She just wanted to know if could help -- if we could do something for the girl.

"Our adoption agency does not work in that region of Ethiopia, but let me check into it," I said feeling the pressure of the next in line.

She took the receipt from the register and wrote "Fayo" and a cell number on it in elongated letters and numbers. I reached out and took it from her hand and my wife and I reluctantly moved on.

We did look into it and, as suspected, short of hopping on a plane ourselves, it would not work out. We know of no adoption agencies working in that area.

So how bad is it? I don't know. Ask Fayo.

A Hand in Mine

We all have moments where we are overcome with emotion. I have had these moments in the past, but now the spaces between them are smaller.

Tonight I had another "episode".

I was standing in church worshiping. K.D. was at my side standing on the pew. My arm draped over him and his around me. He wiggled his small hand into mine hanging at his side so that my hand was wrapping around his. Then the emotions came.

Now I am fully aware what if feels like to be overcome with the love for a child. I do, after all, have a number of them. The emotion that now overtakes me is all of that, but also more. There are other flavors mixing with the love of a child that are not yet fully identifiable to me.

As I see his velvety brown hand in mine, I can just dimly make out some of the things that cause these other flavors to mix in. He stands there in all of his beauty. He stands there so full of life that he is a living testimony to me of others who are also worthy of life. We are transracial, transcultural, transcontinental. We don't speak the same language. We are enjoying the newness of a relationship now just a month old.

In one way these things matter so much and in another way they don't matter at all. It is enough that I am father and he is son.

And so the emotion that rolls over me is rich and complex and new.

Frugality, Gum, and Great Grandmothers

Sometimes I puff my chest up a little as I feel proud about the fact that my wife and I are frugal (or at least my wife is). My wife shops at Aldi's, cuts coupons, and shops for clothes at the thrift store (but only on the last Wednesday of the month when things are half price). That is frugal!

Or is it?

The other day I was in charge of the masses when CrazyMom was away. F.G. wanted some gum so I gave her a piece. Now I admit that I don't know if she has had gum before and I did not watch to see what she did with it and all of that other stuff I should have done. When I came home from work the next day, my wife started asking me about gum. It turned out that F.G. was found chewing gum sometime during the day. I was pretty sure that F.G. chewed the gum the night before and that she had brushed her teeth and did not have it then. We started to wonder if she stuck it somewhere for the night.

While we were talking about this, F.G. somehow understood what we were talking about, ran off, and came back with 1/3 of a stick of gum. She evidently had a third of a stick the night before, a third of the stick that day, and was saving the last third for the next day!

This is just one incident along with many others. K.D. got a look of horror when he dropped a jug of juice and it broke. I don't think wasting food goes over very well in Ethiopia. F.G. and K.D. found a coin in our house, knew it was money and that money is valuable, and marched off to find CrazyMom to give her the coin.

When I use to go visit my great grandmother in the nursing home as a child, she would often talk about the old couple down the hall. The OLD couple down the hall!!! Ha! What did she think she was?!? I learned from this that old is relative and I am learning from F.G. and K.D. that frugal is relative as well.

While we were in Ethiopia, the missionary couple we were staying with told us that if you give an apple to an Ethiopian who is hungry, he will not eat it. He would take the apple to the market, sell it, and use the money to by a few loaves of bread. That casts a whole new light on what it means to be frugal.

Being a Better Parent

Since we are currently enjoying the "honeymoon" stage, I have been thinking recently about why it ever has to end. If everybody loves the honeymoon stage so much, why leave it behind? I saw the seeds of change this morning as K.D. wanted something that Little Foot had and Little Foot pulled back. Up to this point, he would give K.D. whatever he wanted. And as I extend my finger to point at Little Foot, as it often the case, I notice the three fingers pointing back at me.

You see, I have been a better dad lately. I have been doing more of the "extras" that I have done at various times in the past. You know, the things like making sure I track down every kid (and mom!) whenever I leave the house or arrive home to give a hug. Being sure not to miss tucking the kids in at night. Catching the eye of my kids on a regular basis to help ensure that bonding is taking place. Not touching my office work from when I get home until supper and instead building blocks and reading with the kids. Now it would be wrong for me to do this for just the new kids, so I have been doing it for all of my kids of course. That is why adoption is making me a better parent of my birth kids.

The last few days have been wonderful, but I know it will change and a lot of it will be because of me. I must fight the temptation to stop doing the extras, to become complacent, to take for granted all of the small joys we share with our children. I hope I will not let the hectic pace of life seep in and contaminate my priorities. I hope I can be the better dad I have been lately for a long time.

I am the Filthy Rich

In America we often speak of the lower class, the middle class, and the upper class. Then there are the filthy rich. I can hardly imagine what it must be like to be Bill Gates or Warren Buffet and to have your net worth measured in billions. While the lifestyle may be foreign to me, I do know who they are and as I stretch out my hand to point my finger at one of the filthy rich, God stops me short and reminds me of the three fingers pointing back at me.

I am the filthy rich. I live that unimaginable lifestyle.

• There is never a question of whether or not we will have enough food to eat in my home, only whether we will eat until we are full or stuffed.
  
• There is never a question about whether or not we will have clothes to wear, just which ones we will select from our overstuffed closets.
  
• There is never a question about whether or not our kids will have a clean, soft, dry bed to sleep in, just whether or not it will be made when they crawl in.
  
• There is never a question about whether or not we will have outstanding medical care, just whether we will to go to the doctor, the urgent care center, or a hospital.
  
• There is never a question about whether or not our family will have access to the finest prescription drugs in the world, just whether we will fill the prescription at Giant Eagle, Meijer, Kroger, or CVS - all of which are within a mile of our home.
  
• There is never a question about whether our family will be homeless, even if our home were to burn to the ground today, only how long we would be in temporary housing.
  
• There is never a question about whether or not there would be anybody in the world to care for our kids if my wife and I were to die tonight, only which family and friends from our vast support network would step in to care for them.
  
• There is never a question about whether or not our kids will get a good education, just whether it will be public, private, or home school.
  
• There is never a question about whether or not we will have clean water to drink, only whether we should get a drink from the refrigerator, water cooler, any number of faucets in the house, or one of two hoses from outside. In fact, I have water sitting in the toilet bowls of my home right now that is safer to drink than what many in the world will be drinking today.
  

What I have is unimaginable to many in the world. I am the filthy rich, flooded with the world's goods.

And I am cut to the quick by God's word. I John 3:17-18 says, "But whoever has the world’s goods, and sees his brother in need and closes his heart against him, how does the love of God abide in him? Little children, let us not love with word or with tongue, but in deed and truth."

How Crazy is Our God?!?!

Sometimes my wife and I get the feeling people think we are just a bit crazy for adopting. I guess I think God is kind of crazy, too. It seems that He could have "justified" or "sanctified" or "saved" me by taking care of the sin thing and left it at that. But no, for some reason that was not enough for Him. God decided that nothing less than adoption would do. And so He has gone all out in conveying His love for us by adopting us into His family and making us joint heirs with Christ. (Rom. 8, Gal. 4)

So I guess that if people think we are a little crazy for adopting kids from Ethiopia, that is OK with us. However crazy our adopting may seem, it is not nearly as crazy as what God has done for us.