It's hitting me more fully now. It's really sinking. It's only 5:15 am and I've come wide awake to the thought of plus three and what that's going to mean. Funny how I wondered awake to the thought of "Where are we going to put them?" I lay in my vastly large and comfortable bed trying to sort this out through the haze of departing sleep. Of course, the days of singe rooms are mostly over. Isn't that part of the bargain? A moment of disappointment swept through as I realized that my days alone in this creamsicle colored room, for better or for worse, are coming to and end. I guess that means I really am growing up. *sigh* The reality that I am about to share my parents even more and so take on more leadership and independence just from the fact that I will be plus three farther from being the youngest and most needful. Independence, isn't that something I've been praying for, seeking out, fighting for?
But wait, I did already think this through - a fact I had forgotten. I thought about it when I walked out of Layla for the last time, when I hugged Masho and Weyessa for the first time, when the possibility of adoption arose again. I have thought this through and I remember coming to the conclusion that it is better for me to have to work a little harder, to struggle a little more - if it gives more children the chance to experience the unsurpassed support and love that I have known. My parents are professionals. I want to recognize them. They may never wear medals of honor or meet the President, but they are heroes. They do not just host foreigners as ambassadors do; they do not just study the "other" as an anthropologist might; they are more than superb hosts; they are more than great explorers who leave the comfort of home for far and unknown reaches. Mom and Dad bring the world into their home and offer its children harbor, permanent and safe. Like a mothering nation to a camp of refugees, they ensure medical care, education, meals...and even more, my parents bathe these children - children they have no biological reason to care for - with love, empathy, strength, encouragement, hope, and healing. If I have to work that much harder, suffer a little, pass up some kinds of comfort if it means a future for these three then so be it. It is not for me to steal their future from my passing desires and foolish fancies. Do you find yourself wishing to be a man or woman of character? You are asking for hard things to come your way, my friend, but not things you will necessarily regret in the end.
Now I understand why, for the last two years I have felt urged to clean the unnecessary from my life. I have pushed boxes and bags of things from years passed, hoping that God was right when He told me that those fragments of history would not help me remember or enjoy my past. "You don't need things to remember. That blanket can tell you no more than a stone saved from a day and a place you no longer recall." God is right. I have my journals to remind me, Him to remind me, and best of all, I have (or will have) eleven other family members to help me recall. I thank Him for loosening my hold on the material these last few years. Otherwise, this experience would not be possible. I am about to make room for another - my sister, best friend, and soon roommate, Sheridan Rose. You know, I think I am ready to do that again. Keeping her in mind as I give this room one final and heroic go-round keeps me centered on the goal and one of my strongest beliefs, a simple but deeply profound idea to me: people are more important than things. Books, hair dryers, clothes, yes and even laptops, can be replaced. The opportunity to save E_____, S_____, and A____ comes once. Should a pile of clutter really stand in the way of that? Should sharing a room stand in the way of that? Should my desires for recognition stand in the way of that? Can you stand in front of a Mac truck of truth and expect to not get run over?
Yes, the reality of my future, of our future - the calling of what it is to be a McAlister in God's kingdom is really settling over me. What an unusual breed. As Christians we are called to do what the world calls "hard things." We call it God's will. "Hard things" are hardest or just hard when we take the worldly stance, but God's mathematical and logical methods are not exactly forces the human mind can comprehend. Since when does 5 + 2 = enough food for thousands and thousands of people with leftovers!!! It's humanly impossible and unthinkable. Since when do people raise thousands of dollars in less than a week for Christ-based cause from people who can't remember the last time they set foot in a church? The weight, the reality of what it means that God can and does supply beyond what we could ever ask, think, or imagine is that we have to give in to His plan. His plans are so much more complete than our own and He always finds a way to work them out, and often times, as I have seen, in surprising and miraculous ways. Often times that miracle is not a material one, but a change in me, an opening up, a willingness, a softened heart. That is more miracle to me than the overwhelming financial generosity I have seen these last few days.
We, as Christians generally and McAlisters specifically, are called to something so much higher and harder. We've been called to an unusual thing. The only prayers I can truly recall from my childhood are these: that God would make me wise like Solomon, that I would live with a faith like George Muller's, and that He would send me to the nations. I am only 21 and already I see this is happening. As a six year old I didn't understand what I was asking for. Thank God! I might have run very hard and very fast the other way. No denying a feel a pang, even now, for the kind of growing up this future requires, but if nothing else I know this much, that God - like my family - will be there with me along the way. We are a family and we are in this together.
But wait, I did already think this through - a fact I had forgotten. I thought about it when I walked out of Layla for the last time, when I hugged Masho and Weyessa for the first time, when the possibility of adoption arose again. I have thought this through and I remember coming to the conclusion that it is better for me to have to work a little harder, to struggle a little more - if it gives more children the chance to experience the unsurpassed support and love that I have known. My parents are professionals. I want to recognize them. They may never wear medals of honor or meet the President, but they are heroes. They do not just host foreigners as ambassadors do; they do not just study the "other" as an anthropologist might; they are more than superb hosts; they are more than great explorers who leave the comfort of home for far and unknown reaches. Mom and Dad bring the world into their home and offer its children harbor, permanent and safe. Like a mothering nation to a camp of refugees, they ensure medical care, education, meals...and even more, my parents bathe these children - children they have no biological reason to care for - with love, empathy, strength, encouragement, hope, and healing. If I have to work that much harder, suffer a little, pass up some kinds of comfort if it means a future for these three then so be it. It is not for me to steal their future from my passing desires and foolish fancies. Do you find yourself wishing to be a man or woman of character? You are asking for hard things to come your way, my friend, but not things you will necessarily regret in the end.
Now I understand why, for the last two years I have felt urged to clean the unnecessary from my life. I have pushed boxes and bags of things from years passed, hoping that God was right when He told me that those fragments of history would not help me remember or enjoy my past. "You don't need things to remember. That blanket can tell you no more than a stone saved from a day and a place you no longer recall." God is right. I have my journals to remind me, Him to remind me, and best of all, I have (or will have) eleven other family members to help me recall. I thank Him for loosening my hold on the material these last few years. Otherwise, this experience would not be possible. I am about to make room for another - my sister, best friend, and soon roommate, Sheridan Rose. You know, I think I am ready to do that again. Keeping her in mind as I give this room one final and heroic go-round keeps me centered on the goal and one of my strongest beliefs, a simple but deeply profound idea to me: people are more important than things. Books, hair dryers, clothes, yes and even laptops, can be replaced. The opportunity to save E_____, S_____, and A____ comes once. Should a pile of clutter really stand in the way of that? Should sharing a room stand in the way of that? Should my desires for recognition stand in the way of that? Can you stand in front of a Mac truck of truth and expect to not get run over?
Yes, the reality of my future, of our future - the calling of what it is to be a McAlister in God's kingdom is really settling over me. What an unusual breed. As Christians we are called to do what the world calls "hard things." We call it God's will. "Hard things" are hardest or just hard when we take the worldly stance, but God's mathematical and logical methods are not exactly forces the human mind can comprehend. Since when does 5 + 2 = enough food for thousands and thousands of people with leftovers!!! It's humanly impossible and unthinkable. Since when do people raise thousands of dollars in less than a week for Christ-based cause from people who can't remember the last time they set foot in a church? The weight, the reality of what it means that God can and does supply beyond what we could ever ask, think, or imagine is that we have to give in to His plan. His plans are so much more complete than our own and He always finds a way to work them out, and often times, as I have seen, in surprising and miraculous ways. Often times that miracle is not a material one, but a change in me, an opening up, a willingness, a softened heart. That is more miracle to me than the overwhelming financial generosity I have seen these last few days.
We, as Christians generally and McAlisters specifically, are called to something so much higher and harder. We've been called to an unusual thing. The only prayers I can truly recall from my childhood are these: that God would make me wise like Solomon, that I would live with a faith like George Muller's, and that He would send me to the nations. I am only 21 and already I see this is happening. As a six year old I didn't understand what I was asking for. Thank God! I might have run very hard and very fast the other way. No denying a feel a pang, even now, for the kind of growing up this future requires, but if nothing else I know this much, that God - like my family - will be there with me along the way. We are a family and we are in this together.
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