Janna and I are almost finished with our required classes to adopt again (this time through the state of GA). As of this week these are the kids available and legally ready to be adopted: Only 5 kids age 1-5 (All special needs). 19 boys age 6-11. 7 girls age 6-11. 53 boys age 12-18. 35 girls age 12-18. I’m a former youth worker, middle school teacher, football coach, and have 2 kids myself…and it’s still a bit scary. BUT…I’m trying to imagine being 6 or 12 or 17 years old…and in the “system.” Maybe you’re called to help. Maybe you’re called to help a family who is called. I’m no hero, trust me. Our journey into this began with our own biological dysfunction (not necessarily altruistic motives) and our first 2 children are healthy, bright and we got them at birth. And even now…hero isn’t a word I would give myself. Freely I have received…and I’m still pretty scared…and I have running water and don’t live in a communist country…and I have a beautiful, smart wife…and many, many great friends. So here we go. Here’s the website for lots of good information and a photolisting of available children. My Turn Now
Filed under: Fighting Fear
For the past few years almost everything I have heard from anyone I trust – those older than me, wiser, good people – seems to point to doing and loving and relishing small things. I hear/read the words of Jesus talk about things like cups of cold water, mustard seeds, or one lost coin/sheep/son. I see magic when one person tells me something ordinary yet so powerful…like they gave away a used car instead of trying to sell or trade. And yet…still…all the time…I want something big. I wonder why “it” hasn’t happened. I don’t understand why “more” isn’t going on. Maybe I’m American where everything has to be big. Maybe I’m just insecure. Maybe I’m jealous. Maybe I might even be a little justified. While I’m working this out…I will continue to celebrate the “small” things…you know…like the ex-gambler-friend who is giving his time freely to love others and help me…or the ex-heroine addict who loves his wife and kids better than me sometimes…or the single mom whose kids hug me. Crap…now I’m gettin’ all mushy while I’m trying to watch football.