culture

How To Defeat The Monster Of “Not-Enough-Time” Once and For All

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

Is time clasping its fingers around your neck, too?

Does it tighten its grip so you struggle for breath now and then, too?

Do the fingers around your neck create fear that makes your every breath panicked, too?

And so, how do we fight the enemy of time?

Openly discussing our fears is the hand that removes this snake from around our neck for a while.

Why is time so scary?

We watch the snake slither next to us as we sit here on the sidelines, pondering the game of life.

It doesn’t look so big anymore as we see it now, here beside us.

It is not the kind of snake that can choke the life from us, a constrictor. It is a harmless, small snake, but its pressure, when wrapped around our necks, feels suffocating.

And so, how is your life going?

Let’s chat, be honest.

Did you shoot and nail every basketball into the hoops you aimed for when you were younger and your dreams were less tarnished?

If you did, how are you doing now, after the applause ended?

Just another one of us, a straggler in old rags, sitting by the side of the court, wondering what the game is all about?

Yeah, I hear you. I put my arm around you. Got any wisdom for the rest of us – the confused, discouraged, and hungry?

I’ve got one story. Here it is:

A dilemma confronted her. The dilemma woke her in the middle of the night. It was the calm, clear voice of her Lord.

Invite him to stay here, He said.

She was supposed to invite him to stay at her home. Nothing too extraordinary. Except that he was the leader of one of the most savage street gangs in New York. He was a bad guy, rotten to the core.

Or so everyone knew, and the track record of his life proved.

And she was the proverbial sweet old lady, tough as nails inside, under the veneer of an opulent mansion, her world in order.

Invite him to stay here.

No one else would let him into their home.

But she did.

True story.

This one act, this time at her home, was the safe respite, like a rest in Rivendell, that he needed as he journeyed away from Mordor. (Apologies to non-Lord of the Rings fans for this sentence).

He couldn’t go back to the streets. His old gang would kill him. But he was forging a new path that would lead him toward Jesus and to an international ministry speaking about his life’s events.

But this story isn’t about him.

It’s about the woman who invited him into her home.

She took a risk.

She obeyed God.

[He] protested, “Master, you can’t be serious. Everybody’s talking about this man and the terrible things he’s been doing, his reign of terror . . . !”

But the Master said, “Don’t argue. Go!”

The Message

Of course, we can never know this, but as a thought experiment, what if this ONE ACT redeemed an entire life?

This ONE ACT allowed millions to be touched and inspired by a life that otherwise could have vanished in the wind.

Poof.

It’s possible, again as a thought experiment, that in this ONE ACT of obedience, the fruit from a life was as expansive as the sand on a seashore.

And I step on the snake next to me, crush its head.

God told the serpent:
“Because you’ve done this, you’re cursed . . .
I’m declaring war between you and the Woman,
    between your offspring and hers.
He’ll wound your head,
    you’ll wound his heel.”

The Message

Time is no longer around my neck, squeezing me, leaving me gasping for breath.

I obey God.

I leave the results of my life up to Him.

I fly.

You?

We Can (Spiritually) Fly If We Find Our Ears (Do You Hear?)

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

She held her head in her hands.

Her heart pain rose up, up out of her chest and demanded expression in deep sobs. Jesus saw her. He stood by her side, his arms outstretched to offer love and guidance.

She didn’t notice Him.

In the prayer room that same week, Jesus communed with another woman, one of his dear ones. In the quiet, she was growing in hearing His voice. And then, prompted by Him later that week, she took a risk.

“Jesus sees the tears of the mother,” she whispered that day to the stranger, to the hurting woman. The stranger was the one who had been sobbing all alone. And in that busy place, at work, hearing the words from God, she burst into tears again.

The hurting woman could now sense Jesus was near. Jesus spoke His words through the mouth of one of His servants. Her words came from the heart of God and were received by another as a hug from Jesus.

The hurting friend relayed the story to me.

“I didn’t tell her anything about my daughter,” she gushed at me, astonished.

But heaven met earth that day. Light from beyond our sun, from the Son himself, streamed into the heart of one of His children and exited her mouth to wrap the hurting woman in a hug from Jesus. And a seed of faith was planted in the heart of that hurting woman that day.

And all heaven rejoiced.

Breakthrough happened in one more heart.

The unseen became visible, if only for a flash of a moment. Will this spark be fanned by the flame of the hurting woman making time for God, giving expressions to her reservations about church and the brokenness of His people? Will she push past the frustrations and find her way, in the quiet, to the place in her soul where Jesus speaks?

May she find her ears.

Will she pick them up, attach them and give them a listen?

They are lying there on the floor next to her. She may put them upside down or not quite in the right location initially. Will she re-attach them and try again tomorrow?

Will you?

Oh God! Open ears! Un blind eyes! Help us exchange our mud puddles of entertainment and distraction for the vast ocean of Your joy and presence! May Your Kingdom come! Help more and more of Your beautiful children, the ones You paid the ultimate price for on the cross, get out of their boxes and realize they have wings! Help them soar, Jesus, we pray.

(Is this post speaking to you?)

If so, take a risk. Consider laying down your pride and showing up at the church near you where Holy Spirit is moving. Or join us online as we learn to lay aside our distractions, pick up our ears, and learn to love to pray. And may you, too, friend, be set free.

Caveat: This isn’t a promise of a highway to an easy life. But we do have Someone to help us. And walking with Him leads to more life.

It’s worth it.

What is the next step on your spiritual journey? Do you have time to follow your clues? May you keep travelling, dear friend.

Is your next step a little scary?

Flying is worth the risk.

We’re Busy – Too Busy To Give And Receive Love (Oh Well?)

/ Lori Lawe / 2 Comments

She was crying.

The little girl was clinging to her small blanket, wiping her nose with her arm.

We are busy. We have appointments. We dress to accomplish, checking the time as we walk past.

She stares around her, alone, in a world of busy, busy people.

Jesus sees her.

He kneels, offering her a Kleenex. She spontaneously hugs him, clinging round his neck, and he picks her up. Then he sets her down and guides her by the hand.

They walk away somewhere.

Where did they go?

We turn round for a minute, casting another look, pausing in our day. Where DID she go, we wonder? We MEANT to bring her some food and a warm blanket, to bring her home.

But we were busy.

Oh! And look at the time. And we are off again.

And Jesus is sitting nearby at that busy intersection, watching, watching the people.

He drinks his coffee and waits.

One of the busy men in a suit falls in pain.

Ill health is the cog in the wheel that stops his rush. He falls to his knees. He holds out his arms, willing himself to go faster, but his leg won’t obey. He looks up at the sky for help.

The people sidestep around him.

Jesus bends his knee and offers a brace, a cane and an arm to lean on.

They hobble away together somewhere.

Again, the busy people take a second glance.

“Was that man hurt? I meant to come back and check at lunchtime, on my break, but I got distracted. The good jokes in the lunch room distracted me, and it was too late. I had forgotten.”

“Wasn’t that Bob? He’s not here, walking with us anymore. Where did he go?” We ask each other, but no one knows. We weren’t paying attention.

Jesus sits with his coffee.

His eyes meet yours as you walk past him.

What is your response?

Will you pause?

Do you have time?

Losing Some Battles, Homeschoolers? Let’s Aim To Win These 4 Long-Term Wars

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

If our goal is win long-term wars, we will lose short-term battles.

As homeschoolers, we lose many short-term culture battles because the system is not designed for us.

Take swimming, for example.

I signed one daughter up for a private swim lesson, one-on-one with a teacher. Then, wait – I noticed they offered private swim lessons for up to two students. I decided to throw both kids into the pool.

“Oh, Ma’am,” the lifeguard explained apologetically, “we can’t take both of your children simultaneously because they aren’t in EXACTLY THE SAME swim level. The rule is that for a private swim lesson with a MAXIMUM of two students, both kids must be at EXACTLY the same swim level.

As homeschool parents, our brains go into culture shock.

EVERYTHING WE DO, ALL DAY, EVERY DAY HAS TO BY DEFINITION, be tailored to teach multiple students at various levels.

I found myself wanting to explain how to homeschool.

“Oh, come ON!” I wanted to say. The younger kid will undoubtedly learn a BIT of the more complex swim stroke if not the same proficiency! Undoubtedly, the older kid can do a BIT of review and maybe brush up on the nuances of a swim stroke while the younger one gets the main idea.

But if I were to speak, the words would go around the ears and over the head of the lifeguard. These words cannot penetrate -be understood. Two cultures have made their way to the front lines of the battlefield and only one culture wins this war.

I placed only one child in private swim lessons.

Inwardly, I laugh hysterically at the idea that two children of slightly different skill levels can’t be taught simultaneously. But my morale plummeted a little because I lost another battle. We lose a lot of short-term culture battles as homeschooling parents.

We must decide which long-term wars we are ultimately strategizing to win.

I propose the following:

1. We strategize to win the war of, when kids have left home, having kind children.

2. We strategize to win the war of having VERY intelligent children.

But they may look like idiots according to middle school report cards (losing a battle) when we are aiming for high SAT scores at graduation (ultimate war to win). “What is she going on about now?” you ask. I’ll explain next time.

3. We strategize to win the war of having passionate and engaged young adults.

For example, consider this post. We don’t kill our children’s natural God-given drive to learn. Similarly, the Homeschool Legal Defence Association found homeschooled students to be particularly diverse, tolerant and civically engaged.

4. We strategize to win the war of having the strength and wisdom, as parents, to finish the race of homeschooling for as long as this is the best option for our family.

In the interim, though, we are in our cocoons and so we are losing cultural battles all over the place, or at least it appears that way since we are blind for a while to what truly matters. Our goal is to win the long-term war of living in alignment with our most authentic intuition of a good life (although the good life almost kills us).

When our transformation finally arrives, and our identity is formed by how God (not our culture) sees us, homeschooling parents can finally relax and have fun.

Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.

The Message

Then, our children can survive the most important, long-term wars.

What wars are you preparing your kids for, getting them dressed in armor for, hoping they will survive the fight?

Jesus, give us wisdom, we pray. May we look at each of our children and at our culture, using the glasses You use to look through. And may we strategize well so that our children will win the most important wars. And strengthen us for this challenging journey of parenting and of standing up and of walking upriver in the strong tide of our culture, we pray.

May Your Kingdom Come.

Our True (Homeschooling) North To Keep On The Best Track

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

Lawe Homeschooling Manifesto

But he’s already made it plain how to live, what to do, what God is looking for in men and women.
It’s quite simple: Do what is fair and just to your neighbor, be compassionate and loyal in your love,
And don’t take yourself too seriously – take God seriously. The Message

1. To Enjoy – We want to have fun with and enjoy our children while we have them in our home.

2. To Think – We want our children to develop critical thinking before entering the mindset of this culture.

3. To Love – We wish to bond with our children in a stronger way, and to avoid peer orientation.

  • [Love] comes forth out of a relationship which has to grow and deepen. We can even say that the love between parents and children develops and matures to the degree that they can reach out to each other and discover each other as fellow human beings, who have much to share and whose differences in age, talents and behaviour are much less important than their common humanity. Henri Nouwen, Reaching Out: The Three Movements of the Spiritual Life
  • We forget how deeply they grieved as little ones… there is no greater cause of unhappiness than the lack of parental sympathy (i.e. What is it like to be in their shoes?) Clay Trumbull, Hints on Child Training
  • You will never have a better friend than a 3 year old. Clay Trumbull, Hints on Child Training

4. To Grow -We want our children to grow in wisdom.

Remember: in order for a perception to change one must be frustrated in one’s actions or change one’s purpose

Neil Postman, Teaching as a Subversive Activity



Living Joyfully – Be A Liar, Nutcase, And Tyrant!?

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

So one day I’m sitting on the couch, head in hands, overwhelm consuming me.

The next day I’m dancing.

What was the path that took me from there to here?

Good question!

I’m glad you asked.

Here are the key stepping stones that led me across the river, onto a narrower path, without so many hurdles.

1. Pretend to be sick when you aren’t

What I mean is, if a few sniffles and a “headache” can help your kids bring you tea, quietly close the door behind them, and get all their homeschooling work (mostly) done in a hurry to “help” you out, then isn’t that just a helpful parenting strategy?

Yes, they may play a few more video games that day, but sometimes we have to negotiate with the enemy (is there perhaps a more precise word here?)!

And how do we need fewer “emotionally unstable” or “sick” days? This is the obvious question we want to ask ourselves as the mature adults that we are. We don’t want to HAVE to lie (I prefer the term “play pretend”) to our kids quite so often. What I’ve learned is the following:

2. Try not to be such a nutcase

Oh, come ON, admit it! You ARE a nutcase, too! I haven’t met even ONE homeschooling parent, for example, who didn’t start this way.

We start our homeschooling adventure with our new homeschooling planners (I have paid up to $99.99 for mine – a VERY expensive calendar with a bunch of blank paper inside).

We ALL start with our new, sharp pencils and energy overflowing from within. We purchase a shiny new curriculum or textbook and dutifully divide the book into 36 weeks, the total number of weeks in a school year. When we have completed this exercise with our stack of texts, we wipe the sweat from our brow and think – GREAT! I know EXACTLY what my kids will be learning on March 16, next year!

We pour ourselves a martini and wait for the homeschooling year to start.

What we forgot is that we are teaching little Machiavellis.

We also forgot that we are nutcases, and unfortunately, for 99.999% of us, we OVER-estimated our kids and our energy levels after Christmas.

Plus, they STILL cry every day when we do math.

And we are still in our pyjamas.

Another “sick” day, anyone?

Noooooo! That’s not for you!

We listen. We reattach our ears. We get down on our knees and humbly beg our God to give us wisdom in parenting in exchange for the promises each curriculum provides (none of it works anyway).

We ask for ONE or maybe TWO areas of prayer for each child. Oh, and for us.

God’s priorities will not be those we choose for our kids. We prioritize hockey and extra math lessons so that EVERY KID born in this country will be in the NBA (or whatever the popular sports leagues are) and have myriad universities begging them to attend.

Instead, we humbly exchange our vanity, linked to our child’s successes, for God’s chosen priorities for them.

And His priorities for us are interior postures of the heart, a heart sickness within each of our kids, and in us to focus on. Lying? Selfishness? Bickering? Jealousy?

Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. Don’t worry about missing out. You’ll find all your everyday human concerns will be met.

The Message

The other stuff comes.

Look at our family. We stink at looking good when we are homeschooling, and yet even our children have astonishing accolades! Maybe that’s just because homeschooling kids give hope to our culture.

Whatever.

The point is that when they leave the house, you’ll suddenly realize it matters a lot more than you initially thought that your kids are kind instead of culturally amazing. And then the nut doesn’t fall far from the tree! Just like a clean house, exceptional kids lacking in character are DEFINITELY overrated.

3. Become a tyrant

It’s the kids who are born as tyrants, but if you become a tyrant, there is order in the home. Then the true skill we need to learn next is how to become a tyrant to ourselves. We need to grow in the skill of bossing OURSELVES around.

When we show up at a paid job, in our office clothes and clipboard, we say “Yes Ma’am!”, do what we are told, then come home exhausted and put our feet up.

But when we show up on our first day of homeschooling, for example, no terrifying boss threatens to fire us each day.

It’s easy for us and our kids to stay in our pyjamas.

Learning to manage our own time is a skill.

Shout out to Mystie Winckler, who helped me a lot here.

Essentially, what is the MINIMUM work that needs to get done by my kids and by me? CHECKING my kid’s work is MY JOB I need to do, whether I feel like it or not. How am I doing with that job?

And if you find you are in overwhelm again? No problem, dear friend.

1. Declare another sick day!

2. Pray a LOT!

3. Learn a couple of tangible skills to proactively manage the ship!

It’s all about rhythms, and this is your rhythm, Mom, Dad.

Don’t give up!

You’re welcome!

Good luck!

The Dark Abyss Is Where Joy Can Be Found

/ Lori Lawe / 2 Comments

This is the hand that reached way, way down, clasped my own and lifted me up, up out of my self-induced pit.

It was a hand connected to a person who gave me a hug and a pat on the back. He told me He was pleased with me.

And then He asked me to go back to the trenches, back to where I was.

Why? Just because we are at war doesn’t mean our role is to give up the fight.

He put a slip of paper in my hand before he held out the rope to lower, lower me back down the pit, back down to the kids with their swirling needs and to a dog with multiple dietary discomforts.

When I returned to the couch and to the kids and the dog that day, I held the folded slip of paper He had given me in my hand.

I opened it carefully and somehow the room quieted in my soul, even through the sharp noises of bickering kids and an excited dog.

So let’s not allow ourselves to get fatigued doing good. At the right time we will harvest a good crop if we don’t give up, or quit.

The Message

The words seemed to dissipate the storm cloud over my head. Was that sunlight breaking through? I looked up.

“Can you help me up off the couch?” I asked, looking up at Him. And He did.

And He tied my favorite shoes on my feet, the ones I thought I had lost. The shoes meant for dancing.

I already had my apron on, the one that I wear when I work.

And His gaze pointed to the next job, one that we would do together, Him at my side, the arm I held onto for balance.

And then, after the kids and I cleaned up a bit, and I cleaned myself up a bit, our homeschooling family read a book together on the couch.

The book I love that I longed to introduce to my children.

When she was hardly more than a girl, Miss Minnie had gone away to a teacher’s college and prepared herself to teach by learning many cunning methods that she never afterward used. For Miss Minnie loved children and she loved books, and she taught merely by introducing the one to the other.

That Distant Land by Wendell Berry

And then we did some math.

And when the kids were tucked into bed that night, after dreaming longingly of martinis for a while, I poured out my heart to God.

And He got a big red pen, the one that I use on my kids to edit their writing, and He edited my life.

This has got to go. This too. And this.

He gave me one or two things to focus on this season, one for each child and one for me.

And it got a little easier.

I was the one who needed to change, to tweak our homeschooling life so that joy could erupt through the cracks of the brokenness of our lives a little more often.

Thank you, God, for the hard times.

For only then am I broken and quiet enough for You to usher in my transformation.

Consider asking God what wounds He wants you to lift to Him so He can remove the bandaid to allow light to shine through the scar, blinding others so they too, may seek their healing.

Don’t Despair! The Monster Scaring You Is Only February!

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

Head in hands again. Trying to shut out the noise. The kids with their needs swirling around me.

We are homeschooling in February.

I sat on the couch, overwhelm consuming me. Do I declare (another) fun day and take the kids cross-country skiing?

Should we call all our homeschooling friends and organize (another) hockey party on the free outdoor ice rink?

Do I give them as much “independent work” as I can and try to tackle the mess of stuff in the basement, the pile that seems to have acquired a life of its own and that roars at me as I pass like a Yeti in the basement?

Or do I confront the emotions in my heart that are spilling out onto the couch next to me, a mess I am trying to hide but that is emerging despite my best efforts to pretend I am confidently steering this homeschooling ship?

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to hide behind the fun. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the fact that our home is so disorganized that we can no longer find pencils to do our math. Or that no one cares. “I like using a green pencil crayon for math, Mommy!” she asserts.

She is not trying to make me feel better. She is genuinely happy. Her needs are met.

And mine?

“I’m not worried about the kids,” my husband would assert. “I’m worried about you.”

So I offer you tea and a listening ear, dear homeschooling Mom and Dad, and ask:

How are you?

Not how are your kids?

Not how is the state of your home (We know it’s a disaster. You homeschool!)

How are you?

People who suppress feelings experience less positive and more negative emotions.

APA PsycNet

And then your tears, and your head in hands, and I put my arm around you to comfort you.

Husbands, put on a helmet first and then TRY asking your wives if PMS is real.

You know the answer, or you will find out soon enough.

Similarly, the homeschooling in February blues is real.

I want to propose (shout out to Mystie Winckler for the essence of this paragraph’s wisdom!) that the path we walk through the regular monthly cycling of our emotions gives us a hint for how we walk through the annual cycling of our feelings during the homeschooling year.

And February is hard.

Now, I know that you don’t have time for a dissertation. Your child is pulling your arm already, something is burning on the stove, and you have dog vomit to clean up, but you need some help. Now.

Don’t quit homeschooling in February.

If you take the advice of the sentence above, then go! Go and get through the day! Well done, Mom and Dad!

If you have another 5 minutes, here is an explanation for the statement above.

When sailors would navigate using the stars, how would they do it? They would choose their course on a cloudless, moonlit night. “I am heading north-east,” they would assert, and set their hearts and sails in that direction.

On a cloudy night, when the stars were invisible, and they didn’t know which way to go, what did they do?

They kept sailing in the same direction.

February, head in our hands month, is a cloudy night, desolation.

Ignatius describes desolation as “. . . darkness of soul, . . . the unquiet of different agitations and temptations, . . . when one finds oneself . . . as if separated from his Creator and Lord.” . . .

Ignatius warns us that someone in desolation should never change an important decision . . . made when they were in a state of consolation.

The Jesuit Post

Keep sailing in the same direction.

How do you do it? How do you survive one more day, you ask desperately? I’ll give you some tips, held like cherished gems in my pocket from long years on the sea, at another time, friend, because our time together has ended for today.

But oh, desolation is an opportunity for our growth.

May you reach your destination.

However, you may not end up where you thought you were sailing.

That is His way.

It’s The Women Who Suffer In A Culture That Promotes Abortion

/ Lori Lawe / 1 Comment

We don’t see them, the women, head in hands, often alone in their apartments, suffering.

They suffer through the choice of, the procedure of, and the after-effects of their abortions. We don’t see them for a few days, but that is nothing new. We don’t see many friends or family members for a few days.

We didn’t notice.

We don’t hear them either, crying into their pillows, muffling their grief.

We don’t know their stories because it is not easy for them to speak about. The pain lies hidden deep in their hearts, placated by medication in the terrible times. Who wants to dive into the depths of the human heart and open Pandora’s box of pain that lies within?

We didn’t notice their cries because much pain emerges silently.

What TRULY is best for the woman?

What if we set aside the unwanted child within her womb, the man who is in or out of her life, societal expectations – everything? Let’s set everything aside and focus on the woman.

On her.

On you.

I see you. I feel your pain, though I may not know you. I hear you crying, though I have never met you.

I have an inkling of the pain that you feel because I feel it, too, in a different sort of way.

I am an adoptive parent.

I also, like you, have cried the anguished tears of a woman who is not in control of the timing of when a child enters her life. I too have shed tears for the unfulfilled longings of my heart, though different from yours.

I, too, have suffered grief because of the child.

But this is not about me.

This is about you.

Should you be the one to pay for the abortion procedure, handing over your savings to get it done?

What about the man?

Would a sperm say to a father, ‘Who gave you permission to use me to make a baby?’

The Message

He pockets his savings, perhaps buying more beers for his friends. He is still drinking, having fun, eyeing up the next woman at the bar while you are at home, alone, suffering through the painful side effects of aborting his child.

Is this the best we can do for women’s rights?

In ancient Greek culture, women were considered more powerful than men.

Some were worshipped as Greek goddesses. Temple prostitution was an honored position within Greek society, unlike cultural stigmas towards prostitution today. The cultural mindset was that women can control their sex drives more successfully than men.

Women have control over something men desperately want.

When sex is withheld for a season, the power balance shifts to favor women.

What if, and I am only asking the question, withholding sex from a man until he promises to be by her side if a baby comes is the best way to honor women?*

Here’s another thing we know. . . . Sexual activity is not a life-threatening proposition for guys. Neither are the consequences. We won’t die if we get our partner pregnant. We don’t lactate once she gives birth. Males are really off the hook. We engage in the same reproductive activity [as females] but there are great differences in what each has to lose when they engage in it.

Your Best Brain by John J. Medina – Lecture 18: Sex And Your Brain

Women, are we ready to assert our power?

Then let’s say “no” except to the honorable man who has already asked us to marry him*.

This is the first step towards truly honoring, valuing, and assuring women’s rights.

Use your superpower! Assert your strength and the dignity, rights, and freedom of women. Don’t hand him your future suffering, both physically and emotionally, for free.

Value the woman.

Or didn’t you realize that your body is a sacred place, the place of the Holy Spirit? Don’t you see that you can’t live however you please, squandering what God paid such a high price for?

The Message

Lord, raise women who are okay with standing alone. Thank You for restoring us to wholeness, no matter where we have travelled, Jesus. After a moment of quiet, consider asking Holy Spirit, “How do you see me?”

Blogpost Footnotes

*And no, I am not referring to the teen boy who buys $20 cubic zirconia “Promise Rings” in bulk from Walmart and hands them out to myriad teen girls, seeking his reward. The promise rests on the character of the promise-er.

This post is part of our Say-It-Again On Friday series.

The “Unwanted” Baby Is Wanted By All?

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

I’m wiping the tears from my eyes again.

It was movie and popcorn night. We watched UnPlanned, the astonishing, true story of Planned Parenthood Director Abby Johnson’s journey across the line from Choice to Life.

We were all undone.

As my tiny and insignificant contribution to this whirlwind topic of our day, like a feather battling a windstorm, I include below a poem I wrote.

May our prayers reach the ear of God, that the prevailing cultural winds would change direction and blow the feather toward God again and again and again . . . we pray.

Lord, have mercy on us, all of us, for we are a sinful people.

And may we pause to consider the following:

Simon Peter [who] . . . fell to his knees before Jesus. “Master, leave. I’m a sinner and can’t handle this holiness. Leave me to myself.”

The Message

and

If . . . my people, my God-defined people, respond by humbling themselves, praying, seeking my presence, and turning their backs on their wicked lives, I’ll be there ready for you: I’ll listen from heaven, forgive their sins, and restore their land to health.

The Message

They Say She’s Not Wanted

They say she’s not wanted in this world.

Yet I’ve seen her mom, belly swelled in mystical expectation, nervously meeting prospective adoptive parents for the first time. Tears flowed on all sides at the first introduction, bonded somehow at the initial meeting. I’ve chatted with her mom many times while she lay curled up in the womb.

My heart broke for her mom because she could not raise her now.

I met her birth grandma and cried with her over the expectation of the first grandchild in the family.

The fulfillment of a grandmother’s dreams was not that the child would be whisked from her arms before they would know each other well. “You take good care of her,” the grandmother whispered to the adoptive mother through tears.

I’ve met her birth father.

A boy-man, wearing the tough guy mask in front of his friends and family. I sat with him while he, head in hand, sobbed a mountain of anguished tears, knowing that her birth mom could not stay with him forever and be the family unit that he dreamed of.

I’ve cried with him too.

I’ve also met them – the crowds of families, with polished faces and pages full of dreams in shiny dossiers, cartwheeling over each other in efforts to impress. They plead, “Please pick us. We want her. We want to be her family. Oh, won’t you please pick us?”

I know them because I was also a member of one of those families. And our family was chosen. And oh, how the aching in our hearts was finally filled with love and gratitude for this cherished life.

Thank you, birth mothers, birth fathers, and birth grandparents, for standing firm in love and truth, regardless of the shifting sand of popular opinions.

We honor you, and we love you.

Thank you for placing your child in the arms of a family who will love and care for her.

Thank you for allowing this child to thrive in the healing love of all of us in her extended birth families and her extended adoptive family.

And we share a secret, don’t we?

Even if they don’t know it, we know these children are wanted by MORE people than can be counted.