Saturday, March 26, 2011
Friday, March 25, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
the tables have turned
unbelievable.
one week ago, i was in the depths of despair (oh yes I do love Anne Shirley), convinced we would *never* make any progress whatsoever in our adoption or in our lives. I was convinced God was against me and that He was only *for* other people.
the long wait in this adoption had really taken a toll, I'm sorry to say, and I was just sure that waiting was my lot in life.
last week, I was on the phone with my one of my sweet adoption buddies, who just spoke Scripture over me and reminded me that God is FOR me and that He knows what is best.
yeah, yeah i've heard it before.
but Scripture always does what it sets out to accomplish, and it did make a dent in my hard heart. I am thankful for friends who speak the truth, whether or not it is what we want to hear. (thank you, LB!)
sometimes I just want to hear myself talk, instead of listening to God. And then:
God spoke the word I had been waiting to hear for nearly two years: referral.
we trembled, we turned on the video camera, we clicked the email open...we cried.
there they were. the two we had prayed for, longed for, dreamed about.
and they are beautiful!
"On this day the enemies of the Jews had hoped to overpower them, but now the tables were turned and the Jews got the upper hand over those who hated them.
one week ago, i was in the depths of despair (oh yes I do love Anne Shirley), convinced we would *never* make any progress whatsoever in our adoption or in our lives. I was convinced God was against me and that He was only *for* other people.
the long wait in this adoption had really taken a toll, I'm sorry to say, and I was just sure that waiting was my lot in life.
last week, I was on the phone with my one of my sweet adoption buddies, who just spoke Scripture over me and reminded me that God is FOR me and that He knows what is best.
yeah, yeah i've heard it before.
but Scripture always does what it sets out to accomplish, and it did make a dent in my hard heart. I am thankful for friends who speak the truth, whether or not it is what we want to hear. (thank you, LB!)
sometimes I just want to hear myself talk, instead of listening to God. And then:
God spoke the word I had been waiting to hear for nearly two years: referral.
we trembled, we turned on the video camera, we clicked the email open...we cried.
there they were. the two we had prayed for, longed for, dreamed about.
and they are beautiful!
"On this day the enemies of the Jews had hoped to overpower them, but now the tables were turned and the Jews got the upper hand over those who hated them.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
traveling this Friday!!!
oh.my.goodness.
we saw the two most amazing pictures we have ever seen yesterday on our computer screen. we called the kids and excitedly showed them the pictures. they couldn't believe it: a boy AND a girl! What a dream come true!
and then, as if that wasn't sweet enough, we have been given the opportunity to travel with *this* travel group...which flies out of the country THIS Saturday!
in 5 days!
we have so much to do.
thank You, God. Only You could do this!
we saw the two most amazing pictures we have ever seen yesterday on our computer screen. we called the kids and excitedly showed them the pictures. they couldn't believe it: a boy AND a girl! What a dream come true!
and then, as if that wasn't sweet enough, we have been given the opportunity to travel with *this* travel group...which flies out of the country THIS Saturday!
in 5 days!
we have so much to do.
thank You, God. Only You could do this!
Monday, March 21, 2011
REFERRAL!!!
oh, how I have longed to say that word.
it is so sweet.
at 10:35am Eastern Standard Time, our lives changed forever.
we saw two of the most beautiful children you have ever seen on that computer screen, with a letter informing us that these two precious ones had been "attributed" to our family.
thank You, God.
only You could have done this.
only You make things this good.
and we are so grateful.
(I wish I wish I wish I could show you their pictures, but I can give no identifying details about them...yet! We have to pass court first!)
it is so sweet.
at 10:35am Eastern Standard Time, our lives changed forever.
we saw two of the most beautiful children you have ever seen on that computer screen, with a letter informing us that these two precious ones had been "attributed" to our family.
thank You, God.
only You could have done this.
only You make things this good.
and we are so grateful.
(I wish I wish I wish I could show you their pictures, but I can give no identifying details about them...yet! We have to pass court first!)
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Christmas Read Aloud Favorites
Today was the marathon trip to the library my blessings have been begging for! We checked out gobs of books, a beloved tradition, and snuggled tonight while Joel went all out on the Christmas tree lights this year (because he loves his wife).
Some of our very favorites:
Silver Packages by Cynthia Rylant
She is the most amazing author in my book. You just about can't go wrong with anything she has written, but this is a treasure.
Gingerbread Baby by Jan Brett, always a favorite
The Best Christmas Pageant Ever by Barbara Robinson
What a fool I was to scoff at this book until two years ago. I laughed so hard I cried. The kids LOVE it! A complete treat and MUST read!
Lastly, the very best pick of the season:
Christmas in the Country by Cynthia Rylant
If you haven't read this one yet, go get it this instant! It is a delight. We read it again and again and again and we never get tired of it!
Some of our very favorites:
Silver Packages by Cynthia Rylant
She is the most amazing author in my book. You just about can't go wrong with anything she has written, but this is a treasure.
Gingerbread Baby by Jan Brett, always a favorite
The Best Christmas Pageant Ever by Barbara Robinson
What a fool I was to scoff at this book until two years ago. I laughed so hard I cried. The kids LOVE it! A complete treat and MUST read!
Lastly, the very best pick of the season:
Christmas in the Country by Cynthia Rylant
If you haven't read this one yet, go get it this instant! It is a delight. We read it again and again and again and we never get tired of it!
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
the rich family in church, part 2
i talked to my mom tonight on the phone and she wanted to know if the story in last night's post is true...yes!!! here is a little more of the story:
*******************************************************
This slice of Eddie’s childhood, set in 1946, has become known as “The Rich Family in Church.” Written in a letter to missionaries in 1990, it took on a life of its own and still circulates in magazines, books (Chicken Soup for the Golden Soul), and Web sites (Google.com pulls up 100 links to her story—including translations in German and Indonesian). Other than some versions mistaking Eddie for a boy (her name is pronounced like the male name, “Eddy”), the story has remained intact.
Eddie (Smith) Ogan, the sixth of seven children, who found out at age 14 that she was “poor” is now 72. She and her husband, Phil, live on Social Security. They clean the grounds and bathrooms at the Northeast Washington Fair; the Colville, Washington, Father’s Day Rodeo; and Town and Country Days at the next town over.
Are you thinking that poor girl became even more poor? Then you don’t know the end of that Easter story, and you don’t know Eddie Ogan.
Whatever Happened to the Rich Little Poor Girl?
Catching up with Eddie Ogan, author of "The Rich Family in Church"
by Kimberly Claassen
“All my life, I’ve been able to find something funny in anything that happened.” So says Eddie Ogan.
And most things were. But her story of a childhood Easter was a slight miscalculation. The story she wrote to make people laugh, made them cry. As she copied the letter with that story in it, folded and stamped it, sending it around the world to missionaries who could use a laugh in their day, she never guessed its bittersweetness would give pause to millions of readers worldwide for years to come.
We all want to see ourselves in Eddie’s story, the story of a widow and three young daughters eating potatoes for a month, keeping the radio off to save on their electricity bill, taking odd jobs, and making cotton loop pot holders to sell—three for a dollar. All to scrape together money for the “sacrificial gift” the pastor would collect Easter morning for the poor family in church.
We want to walk with them to church that rainy Sunday morning when they were singing all the way despite the puddles disintegrating the cardboard patches in our shoes. We want to proudly deposit the crisp bills in the offering plate—sitting straight in our old dresses, giving away the most money we’ve ever had at one time.
Our eyes widen and a knot forms in our throat when the pastor shows up on the doorstep that afternoon, envelope in hand, when Eddie’s younger sister’s exuberance about this surprise spills that same crisp money out of the envelope and they watch it flutter to the floor. The knots in our throats inevitably disintegrate just like the cardboard shoe patches, spilling out in salty sympathy.
We want to be this family who “went from feeling like millionaires to feeling like white trash.” We want to be them because we want a piece of something they had—something that went far beyond what the pastor could see.
*******************************************************
This slice of Eddie’s childhood, set in 1946, has become known as “The Rich Family in Church.” Written in a letter to missionaries in 1990, it took on a life of its own and still circulates in magazines, books (Chicken Soup for the Golden Soul), and Web sites (Google.com pulls up 100 links to her story—including translations in German and Indonesian). Other than some versions mistaking Eddie for a boy (her name is pronounced like the male name, “Eddy”), the story has remained intact.
Eddie (Smith) Ogan, the sixth of seven children, who found out at age 14 that she was “poor” is now 72. She and her husband, Phil, live on Social Security. They clean the grounds and bathrooms at the Northeast Washington Fair; the Colville, Washington, Father’s Day Rodeo; and Town and Country Days at the next town over.
Are you thinking that poor girl became even more poor? Then you don’t know the end of that Easter story, and you don’t know Eddie Ogan.
Whatever Happened to the Rich Little Poor Girl?
Catching up with Eddie Ogan, author of "The Rich Family in Church"
by Kimberly Claassen
“All my life, I’ve been able to find something funny in anything that happened.” So says Eddie Ogan.
And most things were. But her story of a childhood Easter was a slight miscalculation. The story she wrote to make people laugh, made them cry. As she copied the letter with that story in it, folded and stamped it, sending it around the world to missionaries who could use a laugh in their day, she never guessed its bittersweetness would give pause to millions of readers worldwide for years to come.
We all want to see ourselves in Eddie’s story, the story of a widow and three young daughters eating potatoes for a month, keeping the radio off to save on their electricity bill, taking odd jobs, and making cotton loop pot holders to sell—three for a dollar. All to scrape together money for the “sacrificial gift” the pastor would collect Easter morning for the poor family in church.
We want to walk with them to church that rainy Sunday morning when they were singing all the way despite the puddles disintegrating the cardboard patches in our shoes. We want to proudly deposit the crisp bills in the offering plate—sitting straight in our old dresses, giving away the most money we’ve ever had at one time.
Our eyes widen and a knot forms in our throat when the pastor shows up on the doorstep that afternoon, envelope in hand, when Eddie’s younger sister’s exuberance about this surprise spills that same crisp money out of the envelope and they watch it flutter to the floor. The knots in our throats inevitably disintegrate just like the cardboard shoe patches, spilling out in salty sympathy.
We want to be this family who “went from feeling like millionaires to feeling like white trash.” We want to be them because we want a piece of something they had—something that went far beyond what the pastor could see.
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