Wasting Days on Hope of the Future

What a title huh? How can you ever waste anything with hope? I have been in a difficult season lately. There are things about my life I don't like, things I wish would hurry and change, things I wish were different. I keep looking forward, hoping for the next season to begin. Recently, I have realized that I might be wasting today, hoping for tomorrow.

Hope is a powerful principle. The Bible tells us that 'hope deferred makes the heart sick'. Without hope, we are lost. When you look into the eyes of an impoverished, orphan child, you can see what a lack of hope and a future can do. Their eyes are empty, hollow, and dead. Hope is what keeps us moving when we've lost a loved one. We know of the eternal hope, the promised hope of heaven. The very sacrifice of Jesus is what brought the world hope. It is a lifter of heads, breath to the spirit, burden-bearing. Hope truly keeps us alive.

So how in world could it be true that I am wasting my days on hope? This is what I believe God spoke to my heart lately.

Today is the day of salvation, the Word tells us. If I spend all my energy and thoughts on hoping for the future, always waiting for that change I am hoping for, despising the season I'm in and living on what might be in the future, I am wasting this day. Hope is not only for the future. Hope is for today. No matter what the season of life I am in, whether in the valley or on the mountaintop, or in that very difficult place of transition between the two, there is a purpose for every step. God wants us to live everyday with our eyes wide open, enjoying the journey He has us on, submitting to the refinement He is walking us through, and living on purpose every single day.

There are changes I am waiting for in my life; some of them out of my control and some I can do something about. If I live today completely focused on what I am hoping will be different in the future or an answer I am longing for on tomorrows journey, I will lose today. Perhaps Jesus will return before that change or answer arrives. Will I spend my last days unhappy, discontented, and ineffective because I am living on the hope of that change?

Hope is a powerful principle. Without it, we will not survive this troubled world we live in. However, I believe the questions God has for me today is: What hope will you live in for today? What hope will you offer someone else today? Will you stop wasting days paralyzed by future hope and live continually in hope?

Joshua's Testimony

Joy of Salvation

As I prayed over my son Joshua tonight, I prayed that the love of Jesus would shine through him at school tomorrow. As I finished, Joshua asked, "What's the love of Jesus?" I explained with six year old vocabulary about the love of Jesus which brought us to talking again about all He did for us on the cross. Joshua came to a place he wanted to give his life to Christ.

As I have with three of my other children, I prayed with him having him pray after me. Joshua prayed a prayer of salvation. I clapped my hands in delight as he said amen, telling him of the heavens rejoicing over his decision. Suddenly, my booming, exuberant son jumped from his bed and began jumping and dancing around the house, telling his sisters and brother about Jesus. "Angels, my Ethiopian mom and dad, and my cat are dancing in heaven for me!" He giggled, he jumped, he danced with pure delight!

He declared several times, "I'm happy! I'm doing the Jesus dance!" and danced around the house and outside. The joy of the Lord gushed from his heart. It was beautiful to see.

When was the last time you thought about the salvation Jesus gave you, rescuing you from your sin, and all He's done for you and then broke out into dancing, jumping and giggling? Just as I stood beaming over this delightful child celebrating unabandoned about what Jesus just did in his life, Jesus Christ, no doubt stood beaming with me. He loves to see us excited about what He has done for us.

Joshua gets it! This gift of salvation is one to jump and dance and giggle over! It is life altering, life saving and will overflow our lives with joy if we will let it! Let us again become like a child and dance and jump and celebrate Gods goodness! We jump and scream at athletic events and concerts yet stand in dull numbness over the things of God. The Creator of thr universe lives and breaths and acts in our midst. That is certainly something to celebrate, to cheer, to yell and giggle and dance over.
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Beautiful Friendship

In the late afternoon hours of an early spring day, I found myself driving around town looking for a friend's dog.  Her dog had escaped from the backyard and was nowhere to be found.  Understanding the deep bond of a family pet, I headed out as soon as I heard she was missing to try and spot her.  Like a needle in a haystack, I knew the likelihood of finding her was slim.  I prayed as I drove, asking God to lead me.  


God led me, but not to the dog.  As I was creeping along a back road scanning every inch of yard and alley, I came upon a field of horses.  How I love horses!  So noble and majestic, I could sit and watch them for hours.  I slowed my pace to almost a halt watching them graze when my eye caught a young girl of about ten sitting atop her horse.  She was further in the distance, her horse nose to the fence and motionless.  I kept watching, waiting for them to take off riding together, but they stood completely still.  


Intrigued, I turned my car around to get another look and came to a complete stop in the middle of the road.  My bad eyesight made it impossible to see the detail of the young girls face, but her silhouette in the late sun made it clear to me she was in conversation.  I strained to locate another person she was engaged in conversation with, but could find no one.  Worried my car would disrupt the scene, I found myself holding my breath.  


Soon, it was evident what I was witnessing.  This young girl was sitting on her horse with no saddle and her conversation was clearly with her beloved, trustworthy friend, her horse.  My heart skipped a beat as I watched her lean down and bury her face in the mane of her massive companion.  Her small arms reached down his sides in an embrace.  I sat amazed as this horse stood with no protest, almost enjoying the presence of his young rider.


She sat up again and I froze in my seat.  I didn't want her to know I was watching her, yet it was such a beautiful scene, I couldn't move on.  Again, it appeared she sat and communicated with her horse, her head moving and her legs cheerfully swaying about his muscular back.  What I wouldn't give to have my camera!  The low hanging sun glowed orange and radiant through her blond, pulled back hair.  The vast Kansas flatland stretched out before them placing them on a vast canvas.  My soul exhaled.  Pure beauty, artwork in the desert land of southwest Kansas.


Longing to stay and drink in such beauty, yet knowing my friend's dog could be wandering further and further away, I began to roll into motion.  I beheld the portrait before me as long as my eyes could focus, whispering an exclamation of amazement to God.  My Heavenly Father, knowing my deep longing for beauty, had again blown me a kiss.


As I drove, my thoughts lingered on what God just gifted my eyes to see.  I wondered what the sweet girl might have been sharing with her faithful, secret-keeping friend.  I marveled at the ease she sat on top of such a strong, overpowering creature and with the still small voice so familiar to my heart's ears, the Holy Spirit spoke.


"There is ease in relationship where there is no constraints, no control, no manipulation, and no fear.  Beauty in friendship lies within faith and trust."  This young girl had painted such a perfect picture of the kind of relationship God longed for me to have with Him and longed for me to have with those I love.  There was no saddle, no bridle, no bit, no reins, and no spurs in the relationship I witnessed.  The precious young girl rested on her horse with no need to control or constrain or manipulate.  She gave of herself completely to an animal able to throw her off with one swift move. The horse so completely massive in scope to his little friend, allowed her to lean on him, to whisper secrets or joys or wounds into his ear, and feel the strength of his presence without fear.  She needed no bit in her horse's mouth to control him, she needed no bridle or reins to steer him or limit his movement, no forceful spurs, no burdensome saddle.  This sun-kissed girl's presence was light and free upon  her horse.  The horse had no desire to eject his passenger from his back.  She was free to be close to him and rest on his strong frame.  Her movement and embrace was welcome, her voice heard.


So very few relationships today reflect this kind of freedom.  Our past hurts, insecurities, and fears cause us to weigh others down with control, manipulation, or painful, harsh words.  In my lifetime, I can think of only a few relationships as free and beautiful as the one I witnessed in that Kansas field.  When we remove the restraints, the control, and the fear, beauty and freedom can be found.  How blessed I am to have a few of those friendships of beauty, so free and full of trust that the true heart can be revealed.

Who Will Advocate for our Children?

Who will advocate for our children?  My daughter was crying last night, not wanting to go back to school.  She said, “I’m so tired of being made fun of and bullied.  I’ve dealt with this for four years here.” I tried talking her through it and then she said, “When someone else is being mistreated or bullied, I go and stand up for them.  I tell the bullies to leave them alone. I report it to a teacher. I need someone like that for me.  I don’t have anyone.  I walk in the hall by myself everyday.  The friend I thought I had has betrayed me and is making things even harder for me at school.  I’m tired of it, Mom.”

As my heart broke, I got a revelation.  Why in the world do we make our children suffer day in and day out for years with things we would never stand for ourselves as adults?  If someone was following me around, constantly calling me names, threatening to beat me up because I was a Christian, spreading slander that I was pregnant when in fact I was pure, pushing me against a locker, looking me up and down and calling me sexual names, being inappropriately touched by someone who was an authority, I would call the police.  Yet, my daughters have both suffered with this with no one advocating for them. 

If someone was pushing my husband around, calling him names, and in anger, pulling his finger all the way back until his hand broke, he would call the police.  Yet, my son has suffered with this with no one advocating for him.

If an African American man was called racial names in the workplace, the person responsible for that would be fired and even sued. Yet my son has suffered with this with no one advocating for him.

What is wrong with this picture?  As adults, who carry higher coping skills and maturity, have avenues out of situations and choices to change our circumstances, would not tolerate this kind of behavior, why in the world do we put our kids in these scenarios day in and day out with no one to advocate for them?  They are trapped in this daily torture.  Teachers are overworked and stripped of authority, principals seem either complacent or unwilling to hand out consequences, and administrators turn a blind eye to the truth of what bullying does to a child.  Despite recent media attention on the subject with a poor girl hanging herself for this very reason and less recent media portraying boys so tired of bullies they kill, authority figures refuse to truly advocate for these children.  Bullying assemblies and programming mean nothing if action is absent and consequences are light. Much of what these bullies do is against the law, yet daily it is swept under the rug and parents’ calls are dismissed.

The last thing we, as this great community want is to be hit with a tragedy in our schools. We don’t pretend to know the very difficult dynamics of being a teacher, a principal or an administrator.  We understand these are difficult days to be in such a position.  Educators are overworked, under paid, and definitely under appreciated.  Without a doubt, these issues begin within the home, inside the responsibility of parenting.  We applaud the many precious educators that our children adore so much and require our children to frequently give thank you letters to their teachers. However, something more must be done.  If not, we will make the decision to home school.  This would not be ideal for our children in many ways.  They miss out on the opportunities of band and choir, sports and the deep relationships they have formed with many of their teachers.  However, being mistreated daily is not an option for our children any longer.  Our children are far from perfect, but are bright and gifted, love God and others.   We will not jeopardize those qualities in exchange.  We have this option of taking our children out of this setting, but many do not.  My children come home with story after story of other children being bullied and they have no escape. This has gone way beyond “kids will be kids”.  This is mental, emotional, and physical abuse.  Clearly, the church, the community, and the school system need to come together on this issue. Who will advocate for our children?

My Life is Not My Own

In light of the chaos surrounding the very publicized Russian adoption tragedy, an urgency to exalt the blessings and the mandate of adoption rises within me.  Yes, there are horrifying casualties to adoption at times, but they are definitely in the minority.  We pray for those hurting parents and children.  However, the overwhelming truth is the miracle of adoption, the reflection of Gods heart toward us as He grafts us into the vine.  Our adoptions being among the beautiful and miraculous, I share with you today the article I wrote for our local paper after bringing our miracles home.  Let this be what we magnify, never ignoring the other, but keeping it in balance with the truth.  That truth is, God loves adoption.  God loves the orphan.  God is calling you and me to respond, open our hearts and our resources and our homes.

“My life is not my own.” I forced my mind to repeat the motto we had embraced sixteen months earlier as God had set us on a path to adopt from Ethiopia. Twenty-five hours traveling across the globe had clothed me in fatigue. Like a heavy, oversized coat, it weighed on my body, mind, and spirit. “My life is not my own.” Foreign, strong fumes overwhelmed my respiratory system and a sea of hundreds of Ethiopian people pushed towards the open doors of the airport, waiting to greet whomever they knew on our flight. A pure fire hazard in America, they pushed and crowded, all gazing curiously at us. “My life is not my own.” Our gentle, soft spoken agency driver weaved us masterfully through the streets of Addis Ababa, where neither street light nor traffic law existed. The darkness did not drive people home. People of all ages congested the streets, causing our driver to constantly honk and flash his lights. “My life is not my own.”



June of 2007, God began to guide us to open our hearts and home to the orphan. Africa was the direction we knew to begin praying about and as we peered into the picture of a three-year-old little boy from Ethiopia in August, we knew he would one day be our son. Prayers and fund raising began, along with endless paperwork, and frustrating delays. In January of 2008, we felt a baby girl would be joining our son and we began to pray. We were told of a 14 month old girl abandoned at a post office and knew she was the one we had been praying for. More prayer, more paperwork, more fund raising…


Sixteen months of miracles and $41,000 later, we, along with our daughter, Bethany, were standing in our guest home in the capital city of Ethiopia, only miles from the children we had loved, yet never seen. To wrap our minds around this experience seemed impossible. The surroundings and suffering alone was enough to throw you into numbing shock, not to mention the culmination of so many months of preparation becoming reality. We knew and loved these children as Joshua Israel Coleman and Julianna Kay Kynadee Coleman. The meaning to Joshua’s name being very important, “The Lord Who Rescues” and Julianna’s second middle name after Kynadee Boese, the precious baby our community lost, whose parents gave thousands of dollars towards getting Julianna home. This was the moment Joshua and Julianna would join our lives. “My life is not my own.”


The next morning found us again white knuckling the seat in front of us as we jerked and weaved through the mass of taxis, donkey led carts, herds of goats, and mass of people that clogged the city streets. I fell quiet, amazed and alarmed all at once at what my senses took in. Hopelessness. A solid wall of human beings absolutely everywhere, so many sick, so many hungry, jobless, homeless, with no help, no answers in sight…desperation defined. People of all ages sitting and lying on the ground, their eyes obviously sick, the children’s stomachs bloated with parasites. Beggars missing limbs, abscessed eyeballs hanging low on their faces, crippled and curled legs, but oh, so many, large, booming smiles and beautiful, welcoming spirits. As our fund raising t-shirts declared “Eyes Wide Open”, we refused to look away. We took it all in, the radiant and the horrifying. “My life is not my own.”


The moment came. Standing in the office inside the orphanage compound, I gazed out the window and caught a glimpse of a nanny carrying Julianna towards me. Julianna, wide-eyed with anxiety came to me willingly and gripped my neck like a vice. She made little noise, only a faint grunt as she held her breath in uncertainty. Her heart raced against my chest. My heart broke for my beautiful daughter. I gave her to Bethany and waited for Joshua to come next. Suddenly, the male social worker broke the run of a preschool boy, sweeping him up into his arms. It was Joshua. Robel stood him in the doorway, speaking to him in Amharic. Kneeling low, I greeted my son and invited him to hug me. He jumped into my arms and squeezed tightly. He felt so much smaller than I had anticipated. Jumping down quickly, he ran to his new Daddy, noticing his sunglasses immediately. My children were finally in my life. It was a moment only described as holy. “My life is not my own.”


Our hearts knew and loved our children as Joshua Israel Coleman and Julianna Kay Kynadee Coleman, however, they were not yet Joshua and Julianna. The children we now had under our care were Israel Tesfay and Mahelet Alemayehu. God knew and we knew joining our family and coming to America was the very best life for them. It didn’t necessarily feel positive to them. Their loss was beyond comprehension. They had already lost parents, siblings, and home towns, now they were losing care takers, friends, language, food, culture, and country. These children were legally ours, however, the trauma and loss they had lived, would make winning their trust and their hearts a very long process. The rest week in Ethiopia was far from glorious as we suffered with horrible sickness, being turned away at the hospital, struggles with the children accepting us as, and overwhelming stress. “My life is not my own.”


Being home since December 13th, we see daily improvement, as Joshua and Julianna grow in adjustment and attachment. Our lives are full as God has blessed us with six, unique, delightful children. The journey has brought us from impossibilities to miracles, difficulties to deepening trust in a God who never calls us to dreams of human size. Instead, He calls us to God-sized dreams, beyond what we can do on our own, giving Him opportunity to amaze us with His power and provision. It is rarely easy to walk with God, but absolutely the most exciting, adventure-filled life. “My life is not my own.”

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