Lumberjack Angels

I’m enjoying a slow morning at The Compound.  At least, slow by our tribe’s standards.  Most of the kids are still asleep.  As I sit on a little wicker loveseat in our bedroom, I hear grandma in the kitchen talking to the twins, who are no doubt sitting in their high chairs dropping breakfast on the floor.   The sun streams through our bedroom windows and birds chirp to one another, asking “Is it really November?”

Near the southwest corner of the house stands a row of mismatched trees.   Most of them are smaller and of unknown variety.  Four or five are tall Poplar trees, each taller than the old two story house, narrow, and quite dead.   One stands less than fifteen feet from the corner.   Were it to fall – or rather, when it falls – it holds enough potential energy to drop through the roof of my mom’s studio apartment and probably tear that entire portion of the house off.

This would not be good.

The trees are not just unsightly.  They’re a danger…and they they have an attitude.

They stare at me every day when I pull into the cul-de-sac, whispering “some day, goof ball.  Some day we will take avenge the wooden bretheren that were destroyed to make this house by giving our all to crush it like some great tree martyrs….”.   I lay in bed at night in fear of hearing shouts of “Knothole Akbar!”

And what the trees say would be true…except for the one thing they don’t know.  Today, we get a visit from the Lumberjack Angels.

God’s given us some amazing friends.  In particular, amazing friends with some killer chainsaws.  These friends had a little meeting the other day…walking The Compound and, like friends do, deciding “If we don’t help these poor people out now, we’ll end up needing to build them another house….”, so they made an executive lumberjack decision.

Those trees are coming down.  Today.

Previous commitments have Kelsey and I away from the house.  They didn’t care.  Actually, they know my work history and they may have selected this time with that in mind.  Whatever the case, they didn’t ask.  They’re just going to do.  It’s what my friend Andie calls a do-ocracy.  They see what needs to be done and they’re going to make it happen.

I’d heard talk about it but the first direct contact I had was yesterday when one called to ask where I wanted the firewood stacked.  Unbelievable.  Where does God find people like this?  And when He does, He sent them to us?!   Amazing.

God, bless the Lumberjack Angels today.    And dead Poplar trees, mockers be warned…you are destined for the fire.

It’s About Participation

Often times I hear from people who are moved by the message of adoption but are not in a place in life where adoption is an option.  They may have read something or heard Kelsey or I speak.  They end up feeling more condemned than encouraged…because it’s not possible for them to adopt at this time.

I want to let them (and you) in on a little secret.  I don’t think everyone is supposed to adopt.  I think more people are supposed to than are willing to think about it, but I also know there are people who are fully supportive and yet are not supposed to participate in the adoption movement in that way.

At the same time…there is room for everyone to participate in adoption.  Here are a couple of ways you can get in the game, even if now is not the season for you to bring a child into your home.

Become an adoptive grandparent.

Find an adoptive family in your sphere who may not have a lot of family support and pronounce yourself family.  Do the fun stuff that grandparents can do and parents can’t afford.  Show up with a surprise from the dollar store.  Send cards with a couple of bucks in it.  Single out a family to love in tangible ways.  Particularly in our transient culture, people often live far away from the sorts of people who used to do these things for them.

Use your pulpit.

Don’t skip this just because you’re not a pastor.  Everyone has a pulpit.  Maybe a better way to describe it is a platform.  A blog, a small group, a friend captive in your car on a long drive.  Talk about adoption.  Tell them why it’s important.  Let it hang awkwardly as your married friends wrestle with the fact that behind closed doors, they have this discussion over and over again.

Invest your finances.

Why should you help someone else adopt?  Don’t people have a responsibility to pay for the expenses of their family?  Yes….and no.    The needs of the widows and orphans rest on the whole of the church.  Most families incur huge expenses in adopting.  By pitching in your 2 cents or 2 grand, you are living in obedience.

Truthfully, you have the most to gain.  Yes, your funds matter, but in the grand scheme of things, the adoptive family is going to be buying tennis shoes, lunch tickets, tuition and book bags until the cows come home.  Get in on the ground floor of this investment and know for the rest of your life that you helped set that child in the place God had for them.  That’s a pretty good return on investment.

Recently, a young man in his early 20’s approached me. He’d been saving for a long time and wanted to invest in adoption.  Expecting him to hand me a couple of twenties, he wrote out a check to The Zoe Foundation for $1200, which we will in turn give to families to help with adoption expenses.   He walked away on top of the world.  He was a part of the grand conspiracy to rob the enemy of orphans.

Not everyone is going to adopt….but everyone can participate.  Don’t let your inability to take in a child stop you from being a part of it.

Wheels of Faith

Thanks for everyone who’s expressed concern for (or shock that) I have been seen driving the mighty Montero.   Here’s how it all shook out.

While Mechanic #2 was unable to find the short in the wiring harness, he also found himself unable to recreate the problem after a few days of testing.  In other words, it was acting up on him for a while…but quit.

I drove it back from his shop wincing at every tar strip or pot hole, just sure that one of these would jiggle the wiring to the point of shorting out and I’d be left by the roadside.  It ran perfectly.  Since then, I’ve taken several trips, each time wondering if I’d make it home.  So far, I have.

Now this is an interesting conundrum.  I have a perfectly good vehicle (as perfect as 175,000 miles can be anyway) that will either run flawlessly or leave me dead in the water, but I don’t know which one until it’s too late.  And just as bad, there’s no use taking it to a third mechanic because it’s not actually failing me.  It’s like the truck has a silent resident demon that I’m waiting to re-manifest.

As an act of good faith, I put fifteen gallons of gas in it this morning.  Prudence said ‘put in five’….but I wanted to send a message to the truck.  ”I believe in you.  You will live and not die.”

Farewell, Friend

It was a little before 11am central time when I got the message on my phone that a dear friend had passed away -  Charlie Matthews, pastor, husband, and father of two small children.

October 5th he checked into the hospital and was diagnosed with Adult Respiratory Distress syndrome.  Shortly thereafter he was placed on a ventilator.  He was taken off the ventilator in recent days, but ultimately suffered setbacks and died today.  He was only 37 years old.

Charlie and I met during my tenure at The Vineyard in Cincinnati. He and his wife, Angie, had been youth pastors in California and Indiana before moving to Cincinnati.  I remember him telling about their apartment in California, in the direct glide path of an airport, with a long CAT-5 cable running across the alley from the church so they could use the internet at home.  Charlie could put a positive spin on anything.  He’d laugh and say “Those were great days….” when I knew good and well they were difficult.

I was directing a church planting internship at the Vineyard in those days.  Charlie and Angie quickly enrolled.  We spent Saturday mornings eating bagels, drinking coffee, and talking about church plants all over the city of Cincinnati.  Eventually, we placed him in a small, start up church.  He later joined the staff of the Cincy Vineyard and recently had gone on to take the pastorate of the Mason Vineyars.

I can’t seem to recall anyone who didn’t like Charlie.  He was a warm hearted guy would would approach every interaction with you as if he was there to learn.  He’d ask questions and float theories like everyone else, but he was an exceptional listener.  He listened to people because he valued them deeply.

To know Charlie was to know that he loved his family.  We didn’t speak as often as either of us would have liked over the past few years, but we still connected a few times each year via email or phone.  When we did, I knew we would swap stories about our kids.

Please pray for his family.  As I write this, Angie is facing her first day as a young widow.  His children will need to learn to process things like “Daddy went to be with Jesus”….and not be mad at Jesus.  The strain they will face in coming months will shape who they become.  Pray that grace abounds in them…that Angie senses the strong arm of the Lord supporting her and walks this out with wisdom.  Finally, pray for their hearts.  We have all suffered a terrible loss, but theirs is more terrible than the rest put together.

Charlie, my hunch and my theology say you’re not reading my blog any more, but if you were, I’d tell you one more time how much I admire you and what your friendship meant.  It is one of the grand travesties of life that we wait until death to say the things we mean the most.

Selecting an Adoption Agency

Recently I ran across a story on the Associated Press telling of a man who bilked 13 couples out of thousands of dollars in an adoption-oriented Ponzi scheme. Apparently, the man promised couples from New York, Georgia, Ohio, Texas and Florida that he could arrange adoptions. In reality, the babies never existed.

In twenty years in ministry and working with people across the nation, I can honestly say I have ran across more shady characters in the world of adoption than in any other realm that I have worked in.  Recently, I was approached by an out of state attorney who was trying to place a baby.  While on the phone with one of his associates, I googled his name to discover that only weeks earlier, he had been arrested for ordering a hit on his wife.  The explanation I got was less than confidence inspiring:  “It’s complicated…he was arrested but he really hasn’t been charged yet.”

If you’re considering adoption, there are a few things you need to keep in mind.

Ask for references.

If you’re going to adopt through an agency, you’re going to divulge a lot of personal information.  Most of that is state-mandated.  There is no other way to make sure you are who you say you are.  Likewise, you need to keep in mind that anyone can get a brochure printed.  Ask to speak with references who have worked with them on adoption or the name of a state inspector who you could call to confirm that they are operating within compliance of all state laws.  If they can’t provide these, cover your wallet and run for the door.

Ask where the fees go.

Adoptions can cost between a few thousand and $40,000.   It is not out of line for you to ask ‘how much of this goes to provide counseling for the birth mother?’ or ‘what exactly am I paying for.  This is not for the faint of heart….it can be a very awkward discussion, but only if the price is exorbitant and the bulk of it is going to salaries.  For the record, I understand that people need to be paid fairly for their work.  I also know there is a fine line between a good salary and legalized trafficking.

Ask what happens after the adoption.

In some cases, you go home with a baby and fumble through finalization with your own attorney.  In other cases, the agency helps you walk it out.  It can work either way, but it’s good to know what to expect.  In our first adoption, we hired a lawyer once we got home and finalized some months later.  With our second, we finalized over the phone with an attorney in Florida.  Again, there are several right ways to do this, but if the agency can’t tell you what the plan is up front (once you’re matched with a baby), find another agency.

Go with your gut.

Some times we get into arrangements with people who we have no reason to distrust…yet we have that unexplainable question in our minds.   In the Christian world, this is called discernment.  If you are not comfortable with the person you are working with, back out of the arrangement before it gets more awkward.  If they have your best interests at heart, they will support your decision.

Understand that there are wonderful, Godly people in the adoption world that are happy to help you.  In fact, most of the individuals who work in this realm are in it for good reasons.  They can serve you well….just don’t let your emotions get ahead of common sense in choosing an agency.

Feels like we’re under…

The blogging has been admittedly sparse the last two weeks, but it’s certainly not for lack of things to write about.  It’s actually got more to do with the lack of a quiet moment at the keyboard.  It’s after midnight as I write this, and my gut says our house has not seen the last outburst of the evening, so I’m writing quickly.

We’ve taken a few whacks.  I have a predisposition not to mention this because I could easily name a three friends in much worse circumstances and I’m sure there are a hundred more in a three block radius, but they’re not blogging.  Here’s what’s up.

The Great Compound Plague of 2009

Of our seven children, only Zion has escaped unscathed.  They’ve all been sick, ranging from ear infections to H1N1 (this is not a joke….).   It’s been ten days of Ugh, and just as everyone was recovering, Mercy’s ear infection flared up again, and Baby Piper was diagnosed with H1N1.

Please pray for Piper.

She’s still pretty little and while we’re all learning that H1N1 is not the Kill-All that we thought it might be, it still has the potential to be very serious.  Not to mention the combination of the twins and Piper being sick means not a lot of sustained sleep for anyone.

Kelsey and I remain healthy, although she’s a bit achy tonight.  Pray for protection over all of us and a quick recovery for the kids, especially Piper.

The Vehicle Debacle

Two weeks ago, my beloved 2001 Montero did what it had never done in all of it’s 175,000 mile life: It left me setting by the side of the road.

Having piloted this trusty truck for eight years (It had 25,000 miles on it when we bought it the weekend Zion was born), it coasted quietly to a stop. It’s pictured here getting ready to head to Colorado back in 2004.

It took the first mechanic a week to admit he was stumped.   Mechanic number two had wiring diagrams and a lot of confidence.  He decided that wires within the wiring harness somewhere were rubbing and the only real fix would be replacing the entire wiring harness….a $1200 part and about $2500 in labor.

I limped home with the truck tonight, holding my breath, which apparently works because I was able to ease it through The  Compound gate without it shutting down on me.  It now sits in front of the house mocking me. It looks great.  I just don’t dare drive it anywhere I can’t walk home from, and I certainly can’t use it to transport the smaller kids.  I really wanted to drive this truck forever, or perhaps jump from it as it went over a cliff and watch it go out in a blaze of glory…but waylaid by wiring?  Oh the shame.

All this to say we could use a little dose of the miraculous…in healing and in finances.

We  are very blessed with health insurance, although even with that, we’ve spent enough in copay’s in the last ten days that I could have leased a Lexus.  Add to that two unsuccessful mechanic stops and two vehicles, one not really useful and the other too small for the tribe.

Feels like God must be up to something.  These are always the times He shows Himself strong.

We’d appreciate your prayers.

Reasons Today Rocked

Without a doubt, today rocketh, for the reasons following.

The Zoe Foundation Calendars became available online and you can be the first in your cube farm to have one! These calendars feature adoptive families from IHOP-KC on every month.

Go to www.thezoefoundation.com and mash down on the buy-a-calendar tab at the top.  Follow the simple instructions and one will be headed your way faster than you can say “where do the months go?”

Suggested donation is $12.50 + $2.50 shipping.  And get this - Through someone’s exceptional generosity, these came to us paid for, so everything we raise is profit. EVERY DIME will go to The Zoe Foundation!

We held our first Hannahs Dream / Zoe Foundation Adoption info meeting. Kelsey and I told a little of our story and shared the Foundation’s ability to help families, then Jamy and Susan VanSyckle, our social workers extraordinaire, spoke about the process.  When they were done, we did a Q&A session.   With very little promo, we had 110+ people show up!

We were happy to have Tracie Loux and Efrain Sanchez join us for the Q&A.  They are our Family Coordinator and Family Legal Advisor respectively.  Tracie is also a 3x adoptive mom.

MacroProps to Board Members Luis and Jill Cataldo and Scott and Kelly MacTiernan for whooping up two huge pots of chili for the crowd.  The same to Leah Gagne for wandering out of her six-day-sick cave for a breath of fresh air to collect addresses and serve as a the scribe.  Also fun to have Lou and Therese Engle pop in for a while.

What?  You’re still reading?  Go order your calendar! They look fantastic!

A New Unscheduled Series

One thing I miss from the early days of blogging was the rough, 90 seconds from brain to blog style that I used for a long time.   Particularly 2002-2006, it was fairly rapid fire.

Back then, the blog was  titled “Stuff I Think”. If you surf the archives, you’ll find I thought a lot of stuff.  Some of it was entertaining, some flirted with profound, and a good chunk of it was just baloney.

Later, I slowed down. Now, with the exception of the Randomonium posts, I try to produce  better work than I used to.   Confession: I kind of miss the old way. I’m not ready to bail on the newer style, but I am ready to drop a few half baked ones once in a while so I’m going to start another unscheduled series called “So I had this thought….”.   Here we go, friends.

___________________________________________

I was on the phone with a friend the other day…a guy who lives a few hours away and has a really big family.  Bigger than ours.  Like, they could play a regulation basketball game and not need the neighbor’s kids to go 5 on 5.  For real.

Anyway, we were talking about life and plans and how when your family unit is of the scale of ours, not much is easy, not much is fast, and some things really are permanently out of reach.   We might cut a mighty swath through Costco, but we’re probably going to do without some of the niceties in life.  I’m not complaining – we made our choices. It’s just a fact that having a MacroFamily closes some doors in life.

That’s when I had this thought….and I shared it with my friend.  “Bro, we’re freakin’ geniuses…”.

He didn’t track with me right away.  Either that or his kids were distracting him.  Regardless, once I explained, he admitted I had a point.

I acknowledge that we are willingly putting aside the ability to achieve some things – financially, professionally, personally.   If I had 80 hrs to put into a career, I could climb a ladder that I can’t climb while balancing my kids.  If I had the freedom to travel, I could hobnob the conference circuit.  The size of our family simply rules out some things.

This is an anathema to the leadership gurus, but I am limiting the capacity – and short term, the impact - of my life…but I’m intentionally trading it for the impact of seven lives a generation later.   I am getting seven times my investment.  I just need to be ok with the fact that I won’t see it in my lifetime.

Which begs the question…if I’m not okay that I won’t see it in my lifetime, am I really searching for impact or am I searching for personal renown? I could gather a little more renown for myself right now, but it would cost me impact later.

If I thought this world was all there was…if I believed the American Dream was a dream from God…if I thought I needed to cash in my chips and move to LeisureWorld at 55 so I could goof around hot rodding my golf cart…then I’ve really painted myself into a corner because I can’t even afford to fix my truck right now in my prime earning years.

However, if I really believe that we’re impacting eternity…if I really believe in continuity from this life to the next…then I’d want to double down and put every chip I have on the table, knowing the pile will be seven times higher if I play the cards right.

Honestly, I go to bed most nights tired, nearly broke, and often a little dazed and confused…but even then, lying there in the dark….in my heart of hearts I know that the genius of my plan will be obvious to all fifty years from now.

I can wait.

What you’re missing on Twitter

The experts who know such things assure me that there are upwards of 400 people in the United States who still refuse to use Twitter.  Of these 400, some are incarcerated and the balance live in Arkansas. (Statistics are slightly skewed by those actually incarcerated in Arkansas who may count as two…).

My gut says the bulk of this blog’s readers find it via my twitter or facebook , but if you don’t, here’s a few pictures you missed recently, along with a more-than-140-character summary, which will allow you to talk about it down at the VFW hall with a greater authority than those who only saw the twitter link.

Two Times the Funny

The twins are growing at a ridiculous rate.   They  have a strange, innate understanding of the concept of ‘divide and conquer’.   When they are awake – which is more often than not – it takes one person full time to avert a mutiny.

Recent pastimes are standing on the chairs you see them sitting in here, opening the fridge, and antiphonal squealing.

I’m in Wheel Twubble

My beloved Montero is in it’s second shop in ten days.  Zoe and I are pictured here a week ago Thursday, when at 40mph (uphill, in the rain, in traffic) the blessed white Mitsubishi went dead stick on me.   I coasted to a rarely used turning lane and called our insurance company for a tow.   In this photo, we’re waiting.

Turns out it had blown the master fuse.   After five days at the shop, my mechanic admitted “Uh, I don’t know.  I’m stumped.”   I located a second shop and attempted to drive the truck there, but I fried it again.  The truck has gone  175,000 miles and never left me set…and suddenly it’s on the hook twice in a week.

This is a major emotional and financial bummer for me. I have an irrational affection for this vehicle. It still looks great, and when not blowing the master fuse, runs great.  I don’t want a different vehicle. This truck has a lot going for it.  Style. 4wd. And no auto loan.   Now to get it fixed…

Grayson and the Odorous Disaster.

Grayson came home from the CRI training last Sunday afternoon.  He’d spent 4 days in the cold rain and mud learning disaster relief.  He unpacked his bags and climbed into bed.  A few days later, we noticed an odor in his room.

We have three boys.  We are not strangers to odors.  This one, however, could have peeled the quills off a porcupine.

After a day of “it’ll get better…” and it not getting better, we started searching.  All the laundry in the room: Gone.  Any food: Gone.  Wet towels: Gone.  Still, the smell remained.  Finally Kelsey noticed that he’d hung a cheap rain poncho on his bunk bed.  It smelled like a dead animal.  We tossed it, opened up the windows, and the smell nearly left.

Later, he casually mentioned “It was cold and we didn’t have had warmers, so we grabbed a few extra hard boiled eggs at dinner.”

“Uh, where did you put those?”

“In my poncho pockets.”

I see.  That explains it.

The Best of Intentions

Over the weekend, we had a small Craigslist sale that has made a remarkable difference in our lives…not financially, but in our habits.

The Compound’s master bedroom has a small transition room that connects the bedroom to the bath.  It features floor to ceiling built in cabinets and drawers – original from the 30’s.    You’d never find it in a new house…and it is The Bomb.

A friend of ours looked at it the other day and asked “Why do you own a dresser?  You have no need for one!”

We agreed….so we sold our dresser and made room for a small love seat, chair and coffee table.  Suddenly, once the kids are in bed, we find ourselves sitting there and talking.  In days past, we would have piddled around the office or the kitchen, often doing our own separate thing.  What started as a novelty – “wow – we can sit down in here!” has become a nightly ritual.  We sit – often in the dark – and talk.  I’m loving it.

Last night, once the conversation wound it’s way past the next day’s schedule, how we’re going to pay for the yet un-repaired truck, and what we were going to grab when we raided the kitchen, we found ourselves talking about our schedules.

We came to an agreement.  We are getting sucked into scheduled events that don’t give either of us life.  We mean well.  Everyone involved means well.  The issues are important…and we can contribute and glean.  So why do these things still feel like death on a stick?

Kevin & Lorna Matthews were key leaders here at IHOP for a long time.  Once, in a management meeting, Kevin watched me squirm as I tried to avoid being given a role that I really didn’t want.  It wasn’t that I wasn’t qualified – but rather that I didn’t want to do it.

Later, Kevin pulled me into a side room and drew two circles, one within the other.  He pointed to the bigger circle and said “this is what you’re capable of…”.    Then he pointed to the smaller circle inside and said “This is what you’re called to do.   You’re capable of more than you’re called to….and they will forever be trying to pull you out of the smaller circle and into the bigger one.  Don’t go there.”

I knew exactly what he meant…but had to ask “Who are ‘they’”.

With his ominous British accent, he said “Everyone.”

Kevin wasn’t paranoid.  He was talented.  He had a lot of skills none of us knew about because he wouldn’t tip his hand for fear of getting tapped for a lot of jobs he had no passion for.  (Some time later, he offered me office space in a suite they were renting…where I discovered he had a very elaborate IT setup that he’d built himself.  I asked him “Does anyone know you can do this?”   He said “No, and if you tell them, I will throttle you…”.)

That was six years ago or more and I’m still fighting the struggle to stay within the smaller circle.   The same is true of Kelsey. Half of the meetings I attended this week were time-suckers which I could have been represented in by a well trained monkey.  Of course, I didn’t know this going in…so the failure is mine.  Failure to discern and failure to resist the pull from one circle to another.

We talked about what gave us life and what felt like a drag…and vowed to be more intentional in our scheduling.  I’m going to start saying ‘no’ more, or at least being very selective about available times.

I need to proactively protect Kelsey’s time as well.  Her schedule is often far more taxed than mine.  Two nights ago she had a profound prophetic dream that spoke volumes to a major leader…and I’m inviting her to meetings that circle like a jet at O’Hare – round and round and never landing.    With her dream life, she’s more valuable asleep than she is awake….and when she is awake, I can’t afford to waste her time.

I can’t worry if people will feel like I’m disengaging from their next big thing.  Life and purpose are found inside the smaller circle.