The Art of Football

I pick up my lap top only to see a document left opened, something my husband had been working on. It is filled with X’s and O’s, squiggly lines and arrows giving directions that I cannot comprehend. It doesn't make sense to me but it means something to the football players on his team that will be using it for the first round of playoffs this Saturday.

I take the time to look at the drawing and I am curious how in the world he ever put this “play” together. Regardless of the outcome or success of this scheme, I am inspired. I have no understanding of what any of it means except that I unexpectedly recognize it as a canvas. My husband is an artist filling in the blank pages of a play book that is used each week for his team. It is not for his success that he spends time drawing these things up but out of a passion spilling from his heart to serve God in everything that he does. That fervor within my husband was given to him by the Author and Creator of all things. Football included.

I am not much of an athlete. I have never been a part of an organized sports team. But I know God’s glory being revealed when I see it!

 Prayer: May God continue to receive all of the glory and honor as my husband and the other coaches give their very best to serve Christ and to teaching these young men how to do the same! 

(Image not his actual play but taken from: http://www.donerightmarketingmedia.com/marketing-your-business-online/)

Crumbs everywhere!

I wave goodbye and close the door behind the children as they skip and giggle down the driveway, off to school. I peer at the shelf in the mud room, tilting my head slightly as an instinctive result of what I see. With curiosity I stroll past the side table and enter in to the kitchen, spying the mini-island, glancing past the breakfast bar and on to the remaining counter surfaces throughout the kitchen. At full glance, I realize that literally every single counter or table space in my entire kitchen has crumbs on it, remains from something, someone. I don’t know the exact contents of each morsel or dropping left behind but it is clear someone has made their mark on our home.

I demand answers: how in the world does this happen?

I am irritated. I frantically grab a wash rag to restore my kitchen back to its most perfected form. But as I rub the wash cloth over each surface and collect the crumbs in my hand, a familiar verse is brought to mind, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord. (Isaiah 55:8)

I question, “Lord, am I to believe that what first appears to be a “mess” in my perspective may in fact not be a mess?” Slamming a single fist down on the counter, I repeat my initial declaration: all of the crumbs left behind IS a “mess”!

Uninvited doubt creeps in and I pause in my frivolous efforts. Wait. Is there another possibility? Could the crumbs also be an outward expression of life and vitality in our home? Each child is capable of making their own lunch. Hard at work they spread and cut, fold and pack.  So busy are their little hands and bodies they don’t even notice the trail left in tow. All they know is the joy of accomplishing something. Without realizing it, they are each one tiny step closer to independence and growth in their life as a child.  

I relinquish my initial assessment and go back to work; I complete the task of cleaning up the crumbs but this time with a change of heart.

Prayer: Lord, thank you for the gift of 5 children. Thank you that they are capable of so many wonderful things. They are growing up so fast and I know these days are numbered. Let me treasure them as we work towards seeing life as You see it and may I always be grateful for the “crumbs” in our lives. 

"Have you written about me yet?"

“Have you written anything about me yet?”

With sincerity and curiosity, my older 2 daughters asked me about my latest writing projects and postings. They have heard stories I have written about the 3 younger siblings (separately), but not them yet. They want to know what I think of them, what I might share with others about what they are up to.

The questions are not posed out of jealousy or even self-centeredness but from a secret place within, tucked away and held on to deep within each one of my little girls’ hearts. It is camaraderie as human beings that we share a longing within us to these ever present questions:

“What do you think of me?

Do you really love me?”

I understand why they want to know. I appreciate their courage to even ask. And as their mom, I long to answer them. Am I to brag about their accomplishments and undertakings to reveal how much I love them and how proud I am of them? I could post their hard earned grades on Facebook or carry around copies of their artwork or most recent school projects. I could boast about the team records from the sports they play. Is that why I love them: because of what they do?

 A resounding “NO.”

God is the greatest example of the purest love. Even before He formed us, He loved us.  His love is not earned or something we have to work for; He gives it freely as our Heavenly Father and Creator. It is not our accomplishments or what we “do” that captivates His attention. He knows every facet of our being and loves us. Plain and simple.

My desire as a mom is to be an expression of that same love to all of my children. I have loved them since the very first moment I held them. I love them because of who they are, not because of what they do.  My oldest daughter has such a fun and creative spirit she brings to every situation; it is her essence, who she is. My second daughter has the most tender and loving soul; her whole being exudes snuggles and warmth. They are each uniquely made and reflect different aspects of our Savior. 

[I love you Paris and Noelle. I am honored to be your mom!]

Prayer: Lord, please pour Your love over Paris and Noelle today. Help me to always effectively share my love for them. But more than anything else, may they always be secure in Your love. May You be the answers to all of their questions. May You be what brings peace over every doubt and difficulty in their lives. I pray they always see what You see when they look in the mirror: something beautifully and wonderfully made! Amen.  

A Letter to the birth-mom of our adopted children

To the birth-mother of my adopted children,

I don’t pretend to know how difficult it must have been for you to let go of your two and only children. I trust that you did everything you possibly could to care for them and knew it was not possible to even meet their most basic needs. You were alone. You had no one to help you. The decision was chosen for you through the unfortunate circumstances of your life.

When we received your children we made you a promise to do everything we could to give them a hope and a better future that they could not have in Ethiopia. But would it be OK if I confess something to you? We thought we knew how to do that. We thought if we did all of the right things and gave them all of the necessary “stuff”, it would all just work out. But we wrong. We fed them. We clothed them. We gave them a bed to sleep in at night. We did everything we knew that parents should do and give their children. But it was not enough.

Oh Elias, after only a short time of coming here, began to fit in so well. He would roll around and play and learned to love. The love we share together with him has brought unspeakable joy. But Birdy did not open her heart to us. The hurting and struggle inside her created an unrest, encapsulating her whole being. She could not love. She would not love.

And so we just went through the motions of taking care of her, with continued emptiness and pain.  

 After over 3 years, we had only known turmoil and further distance within the relationship with Birdy. Devoid of strength and incapable of anything more, we were out of ideas.  As the adopted parents we had failed. In complete desperation, we crawled on our hands and knees to the foot of the cross of our Lord Jesus. We fully surrendered Birdy to God to do what we could not do.

With unfailing love, God scooped her up and drew her in to Himself. It was there, in the arms of her Savior she has found rest for her weary soul. He has whispered a wind of peace and calmed the storm within her heart. Every doubt and question had been answered. Her rage has been stilled. He has touched her and she will never be the same.

We love your daughter and are so blessed to have her call us mom and dad. We will continue to do all that we can to help meet her basic needs. But it is God and God alone that has offered her a HOPE and a better future! He is her creator and I know He will be faithful to complete the work He has started in her.

To God be all the glory and praise for these precious children.

With love and deepest gratitude,

Amy Chaney