And then there were Four...

“I can’t let this little guy suffer, Mama. We have to take him.” My dimpled nine year old looked up at me with pleading eyes. And just like that, Daniel from Kenya joined our ever-growing family of Compassion International-sponsored children.

For those keeping count, Daniel is number four. A friend recently looked at me with mouth agape and asked, “Oh my gosh! What did Matt say when you told him you were sponsoring another child? “ I just smiled. When Grant excitedly told his daddy that we were sponsoring another child, he simply exclaimed, “Cool! What’s his name?”

You see, my dear husband has granted me mountains of grace when it comes to giving. Once upon a time he would take a deep breath and say, “You gave WHAT to WHO for WHY?” Now he just nods his head. We have yet to miss a meal, our bills are paid, and our house is warm in the winter and cool in the summer.  God is faithful. If we need to give up a dinner out here or there, we are willing to do it if it means that a child receives much-needed care and education.

“From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked.” Luke 12:48 (NIV)

We’ve been entrusted with much by simply being born at this time in this place. If you are reading this on a personal computer or phone, you have most likely been entrusted with much, as well.

We met Daniel at “Change the Story: The Compassion Experience,” a free, traveling, immersive experience that takes participants behind the scenes and into the daily lives of a child sponsored through Compassion International. Shipping containers in a parking lot are transformed to look like the homes, schools, and living conditions of children around the world. Each participant chooses to follow the story of one child in the Compassion program.  My kids have been to Guatemala. They have seen third world poverty first-hand, but it has been a few years since our time in Guatemala. We needed a refresher course… a reminder in the midst of our hurried first world lives.

We placed the headphones over our ears, pushed play, and entered the life of Ruben, a young boy in Bolivia. We listened as he chronicled his life with an abusive father. We took in the litter-strewn, concrete-walled room that passed for living quarters. We watched as his life was changed when someone invested in his life, a Compassion International sponsor. We read the encouraging letters from his sponsor, and witnessed Ruben growing in his faith in God and in himself.  

A Compassion International Learning Center

When Ruben made poor choices, we observed the unconditional love of a sponsor who welcomed him back with open arms… the Gospel in action.

Ruben credits much of his success as a young man today to the sponsoring family who faithfully carried him through some of his darkest days. They supported him through a small monetary contribution each month ($39), letters of encouragement and hope, and big prayers for his future. Everyone deserves to have someone who believes in them. Someone to help point them to the One who gives us hope and a future. Are you the one?

Living Conditions and Some of the Letters to Ruben from his Sponsor

Ruben

Gather your family. Browse through the photos of children in need of a sponsor. There is even a Compassion App that makes it easier than ever to write and send photos to your sponsored child! Maybe you have a special connection to a country. Search through the photos of children in that country. Maybe God has set it in your heart to sponsor an older child or one who has been waiting a long time for a sponsor. If your heart aches for those children living in countries where there is a higher risk of exploitation and abuse, those children are available for sponsorship. If the plight of children living in AIDS-affected areas keeps you up at night, those children are also specifically identified. You may choose a child who is celebrating a birthday today or one who is the same age as your children.

At Christmas, we celebrate the gift of Hope in the most unlikely places. A baby boy born in the midst of filth and poverty. The greatest gift given to a broken world came not elaborately adorned, but extraordinarily adored.

“A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices,

For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.”

This Christmas, let us spread the hope of the season beyond December 25. When you choose a child, God is choosing YOU to make a lasting impact on the life of that child. This year, let us invest in our presence in the lives of these children more than the presents under the tree. Whose story can YOU change today?

Welcome to the family, Daniel!

Grant and Daniel

Two Lives Changed

The Empty Room

Tai's Room (We'll just call this the BEFORE photo)

I promise to share more Italy and Europe stories soon. There are many lessons that need to be shared. I’m working on them. They are marinating while I sort them into the “stories that need to be told” pile and the “stories that should probably/maybe not be shared with the world” pile. :)

In the meantime, I am staring at an empty room. Well, sort of empty. It is filled with the leftovers and randomness that remain after Anna moved out and waaaay across the house (in her opinion) to the bedroom on the other side of the playroom. What makes it empty is the fact that there is no baby boy sleeping or playing in it. No little boy crying for mama or daddy or knocking down block towers. This is Tai’s room now, and with only a few days before Mother’s Day, I’m pretty much bummed about this empty room. Not having this smiley little guy home yet? Well, it sucks. I don’t let my kids say that word, but since I am a big kid now I get to have access to ALL OF THE WORDS. It’s a perk of parenting… getting to use the "bad" words when warranted by the situation.

That joy-filled, chubby-cheeked baby that many of you saw in the photos and video is now walking and talking (in Korean). He is twice as old as he was when we accepted his referral. He is growing, healthy, and meeting all of his milestones, but HE IS NOT HOME. He is being loved on by his foster family. He is kissed by his foster siblings before they leave for school each day, but HE IS NOT HOME. It was easier while we were in Italy because we were in survival mode for much of the trip. We were either attempting to keep the kids busy and distracted from our less-than-perfect Italian life or working to find a store or restaurant that was actually open long enough to sell us food. I felt like a tour guide, spending hours researching, planning, and booking our European travel using uncooperative wifi. It was a crazy life, but I didn’t have the time or energy to get too upset about how long it was taking to bring Tai home.

We received promising news in March that we were making progress. Unfortunately, we have made no progress since that time, and neither have any of the other waiting families. I won’t go into details, but let’s just say that all of those little boys and girls waiting in Korea for their forever families need some serious prayer. Specifically, I ask that you please pray that Tai is submitted for emigration permission ASAP. That is our next step. We would love to have him home by Christmas, but it will likely be another year before we bring our “baby” home. There are plenty of little ones still waiting to come home who have celebrated their second and third birthdays in Korea. Please pray for these children, for the parents who wait for them, and for the foster families caring for them. Pray that those in power will see the harm that is done by keeping matched children from their forever families, and that they will be moved to action. We are seeing more children left in the orphanage for longer periods of time because it is becoming difficult to find foster families willing to commit to raising a child for two or three years. It is heartbreaking for everyone involved.

While we wait, I will clean out the empty room and slap some paint on the walls. I will continue to send care packages each month, along with gifts for the foster family. I will purchase two of everything so that Tai will recognize these items when he comes home, and I will pray for the day when my house and heart are so full that there are no empty rooms.

Our Messy Italian Life

March 5, 2015

While preparing for our time in Italy, I was under some strange delusion that I would have more time to write while soaking up the Tuscan sun and frolicking through the vineyards. My children would willingly clean, sweep, and wash dishes while here because even mundane tasks are better in Italy, right? Wrong. Whoops. My bad.

Ponte Vecchio photo cred to Anna

Giotto's Campanile next to the Duomo

Don’t get me wrong, I have been taking notes and thousands of photographs. I’m fairly certain that I could write at least a short book on the amazing experiences we have had in this country. But those castles on the hills around us? Those fairy tales ended long ago, most of them an illusion. So did this one. You see, our life here is messy. It is real. It is raw. It is living together in a small apartment 24 hours per day. It is two racks of laundry drying in the dining room/ living room/ kitchen/ office/ home school room ALL OF THE TIME. And guess what? As messy as it is, I’m so glad we’re doing it.

Matt and I both agree that we are getting to know our children on a much deeper level in the absence of the influences of school and friends. I can now clearly see that Anna NEEDS time with her new Italian friends to recharge and connect.  She spends an hour at recess every day with the kids at the private school on the campus where Matt teaches.  The thought of missing that time sends her into a supercharged tweenage meltdown. She grieved the temporary loss of her friends at home deeply those first few weeks. I’ve also learned that Grant NEEDS quiet time alone or one-on-one with me or Matt to recharge and reconnect. He is his mama’s boy (hello, classic introvert). He misses his friends from home, but not in the same was as his sister. There are so many intricacies of their personalities that shine brightly when illuminated against the blank canvas of life in in a foreign land.

That said, I strongly discourage anyone from purposely placing an eight year-old boy and his eleven year-old sister in the same bedroom for four months unless absolutely necessary. They fight. Like never before. They fight like cats and dogs. Oil and water. It is a potentially lethal combination that I do not recommend. Pre-teen hormones and rowdy little brother antics DO. NOT. MIX.

Then there are the other times. The times when they collaborate to create a minecraft world with the Boboli Gardens, Italian trattorias, piazzas, Venetian canals, paragliders (we see them often on the mountains), castles, and the Hotel Montegrappa. They talk of adding the Eiffel Tower to “add a little spice” in Grant’s words. It is in those moments when I realize that this experience will only be fully appreciated when it comes to an end. While looking back with those rose-colored glasses. Anna told me on the drive home from her dance class this week (yes, she’s taking classic ballet three hours per week!), “You know, Mom. I don’t really miss my friends any more the way I did, and I think I’m actually going to miss it here.” Going home will be bittersweet, indeed.

While in Florence last weekend, I asked Anna if she would like to buy a small leather purse since Florence is the birthplace and heart of the Italian leather industry. She had been asking for a leather journal like the one I purchased in Venice. I was planning to buy her one in Venice if she couldn’t find one in Florence. Her response was so typically Anna. “No, mom.  I would rather have the journal than a purse. You know, because the journal is something that I can pass down through the generations about my experiences here.” My response to my little old-soul daughter? “Ummm… I would buy you both if you wanted.” When in Rome… or Florence.

Anna on the Ponte Vecchio with the Duomo in the background

Then there is Grant, my little art aficionado (thought he would never admit it). He has been reading ALL of the Percy Jackson books while in Italy, and is the first to identify the Greek gods in paintings or sculptures. He was in his element while identifying artwork salvaged from Pompeii. Then there was Florence. There we stood in the Galleria dell’Accademia admiring Michelangelo’s “David.” That shepherd boy really is quite spectacular in person. Like a good tourist, I read to the kids about how David supposedly appears to display different expressions as he faces the giant, depending on where you are standing. As we circled the massive masterpiece, Grant commented, “Oh yes, from this side he looks scared, but from over there he looks angry at Goliath.” He studied every inch of that Renaissance man.

Grant and David

There is only one piece missing from this Italian adventure and that, of course, is our sweet Tai. Sometimes I worry about what we are doing, bringing that sweet boy into a home filled with chaos and sibling rivalry and parents who lose their cool. More than once Matt and I have said to the kids on this trip, “You CAN NOT act like this when Tai comes home. He will already be scared and overwhelmed.  THIS will not work.” But THIS is what family is all about. It is about losing your head and asking for forgiveness. It’s about forgiving because you are forgiven. It’s about holding on during the fits, caressing a tear-stained cheek, and repeating again and again, “There is NOTHING you can do that will make me stop loving you.” So yes, our life here is messy, but it is littered with memories to last a lifetime.

Lighting a candle for Tai in Santa Maria del Fiore

Crunchy Clothes and Memi's

We made it. Survived. Endured. Persevered. Flourished, even! Our first two weeks in Italy are drawing to a close and I am pleased to announce that we are adjusting quickly to our new life here, and pinching ourselves on a daily basis. The bedtime tears ended on about day four. Anna, especially, still misses home occasionally. However, in a complete 180 degree turn, she announced before bed a few nights ago, “I think we will definitely be coming back. I just love our apartment and how we know everybody in it, and just all of the stuff about Italy. I love it here.” Whaaaaat? Is this the same child who I thought was going to require serious psychological intervention for the trauma inflicted upon her by her wanderlust-filled parents?

You bet. My little old soul and her brother beg to be taken to the hours-long five to seven course dinners (aside from the first one where Grant fell asleep). They silently absorb the adventures and tales recounted by other professors about the years when they brought their children. They soak up the Italian and Slovenian and French and English accents of the other faculty and staff. They greeted the jet-lagged college students with an understanding of the shock and potential homesickness these young people are experiencing in their first days here.

Grant snoozed through his first five course dinner

Then there is the matter of food. The English language simply does not possess the words to describe the food here. La dolce vita, indeed. The sweet life. We have cooked dinner at home exactly one time thus far.  Sad, but true. With handmade gnocchi, freshly picked radicchio, melt-in-your-mouth cheeses, savory mushrooms, and sweet oranges from Naples at every meal, it’s hard not to take in all that Italy has to offer, usually at very affordable prices. We were going to cook our pasta at home tonight, but we were invited to yet another dinner of pizza with friends. Every slice of pizza eaten by Grant these past two weeks has been declared, “The best pizza I have ever eaten.” Some of the pizza menus have consisted of no less than 5-6 pages of gourmet pizzas (served with wine, of course, which is often less expensive than the soda). Unbelievable. Grant finally tried the pizza with French fries. Our apartment kitchen consists of a small refrigerator and freezer, a gas stove, and a small oven-type mechanism that is slightly larger than a toaster oven. Speaking of toaster ovens, Matt exchanged our toaster oven (yes, we had one of those, too) for the microwave in the apartment next door. Our neighbor was here briefly to teach an MBA class and asked us to return her keys since she had an early flight. We are learning that the items within the apartments differ, and are constantly being switched around. Thus, there was a microwave switcheroo before returning the keys. As we have a LOT of leftovers, this will be likely get much more use than the oven contraption. Our dishwasher is named Matt, Carrie, Anna, and Grant. J

Gnocchi with Radicchio and Walnuts in Cortina

We also have a moka pot. I learned that a bialetti is a moka (not mocha) pot. This explains my confusion over where the chocolate goes in this fancy, yet simple, little coffee pot. It makes a very strong pot of coffee, and we will likely be bringing one home in the spring.

Agriturismos are perhaps one of my favorite finds thus far. Agriturismos are restaurants that must produce a minimum of 60 percent of their ingredients on site. They are small farms with their own vineyards, pigs, cows, chickens… you get the idea. The food is fresh and the atmosphere is family friendly. We ate at Memi’s, and it felt like we were eating in Memi’s farmhouse. He even pulled up a chair to pour us a variety of very strong liquors. I wasn’t a fan of these, but his Prosecco? Divine. I could write an entire blog entry on this experience alone. In case you decide to pay Memi a visit, be forewarned: he is very affectionate guy, kisses on both cheeks for everyone.

Memi pouring limoncello, blueberry, and walnut licquor

Gnocchi with Smoked Ricotto

Memi's Agriturismo

We do not have a dryer or wifi in our apartment. Out of all of possible amenities to miss in America, these are the two that I miss the most. There is no surfing the internet in the comfort of our bed to plan out our next adventure. We must walk to campus with all of our cables and such, find an empty classroom, and pray that the wifi is having a good day.  We thought we were living in the lap of luxury when we had (spotty) wifi in our hotel in Cortina. And crunchy clothes and towels? Not exactly my cup of tea. “Wrinkle-free” and “wrinkle resistant” shirts are activated by the heat of a dryer, and skinny jeans? Once they stretch out, getting them “skinny” again without a dryer is one of our great challenges. That said, these little inconveniences are a small price to pay for our once-in-a-lifetime experiences here.

Matt has a very unusual teaching schedule these first few weeks.  It is very Italian in that he wasn’t informed of his exact schedule until we arrived. We then discovered that although he had meetings, etc., he had several lengthy breaks before his regular MWF schedule begins (which then changes to a Tuesday/Thursday schedule later in the spring). Thus, we have already been to Venice once and skied in the Alps of Cortina d’Ampezzo for two days. We almost made it to the top of Monte Grappa in our little Fiat Punto (nicknamed “Spot”), but were stopped just short due to the whiteout conditions. We have learned about the World War I battle on Monte Grappa that served as a turning point in the war, and the plague doctor’s masks in Venice. We saw the copper horses inside Saint Mark’s Basilica and the ski jump from the 1956 Olympics in Cortina. We took photos in Bassano del Grappa on the breathtaking Ponte degli Alpini bridge, designed by Palladio in 1569. We are living by the motto, “If we have a break, take it.” There are plenty of sights to see in the small villages surrounding Paderno del Grappa, so there is always something new to see on a lazy afternoon.

Speaking of lazy… The shops and restaurants in the small villages around here still close every afternoon from 12:30-3:30, and are closed on Sundays. Most restaurants are closed on Mondays.  In our first jet-lagged days, we would barely have pulled ourselves together by the time the shops were closing. Although it can be frustrating at times, I love that the Italians still value family time and long, restful afternoons together before returning to work.

I think we just might make it here! With olive groves and vineyards around every corner, inexpensive wine with every meal, mountain tops glazed with snow, and a backyard brimming with history, we’re going to be just fine in Italy and the rest of Europe.  Probably better than fine… even if we are wearing crunchy clothes.

Skiing the Alps in Cortina d'Ampezzo

Ski Bum

Breathtaking Views Around Every Corner

Downtown Cortina... Magical!

The Drive to Monte Grappa

It got a little sketchy at the top of Monte Grappa

Hot chocolate before heading down the mountain

World War I Memorabilia at the top of Monte Grappa

Ponte degli Alpini in Bassano del Grappa

Ponte degli Alpini

Just a few of the "Best Pizzas Ever"

Train Ride to Venice!

Grand Canal in Venice

Pigeons in Piazza San Marco

The Plague Doctor's Mask

The One Thing We Forgot

2:00 a.m. Wednesday, January 14, 2015

So here we are! We made it! Three planes and an hour-long taxi ride later… we made it. We’re in Paderno del Grappa, Italy… living the dream. And we’re in tears. It’s 2 a.m. in Italy (7 p.m. at home), and after the kids have had their share of homesick meltdowns tonight, while they (and Matt) are fast asleep, it’s time for me to have mine. Here’s the thing. We spent so much time over the past few weeks making all of the physical preparations for this trip that we forgot to prepare our hearts. Because it IS hard to leave friends and family and everything that is safe and known. We mistakenly thought that because we had traveled around the world before, we were totally prepared to set down semi-permanent roots for a few months.  After traveling for nearly 24 hours with only a few hours of sleep on a plane from Charlotte to London, it is VERY hard to be dropped into a world where you can’t even read the cereal box in the tiny market to know if anyone in your household will eat it. What seems exotic and fun on a vacation, suddenly seems overwhelming when you realize that this is going to be your day-to-day. I spoke with the kids about how this is just a taste of what it will feel like for our sweet Tai when we bring him home from Korea. My heart sank when we were told that “No, we don’t really have oatmeal in Italy.” Whaaat? I can totally survive a couple of weeks without oatmeal on a vacation if necessary, but it’s my standby to get me started for the day. Matt, too. Such a tiny, trivial thing, but it broke me anyway. I have no choice but to find an alternate fuel source in the morning before a long run, and a croissant with Nutella just isn’t going to cut it. It is all of the little things that, when jetlagged, begin to overwhelm.

Sure, we were warmly greeted by the university staff here. We were given our little Fiat Punto (the kids now know the term “killed it” in relation to our driving of a stick shift and are keeping a running total- we’re a little rusty), taken to our sparsely furnished, yet clean, apartment, and told that we would learn more when Matt attends the orientation meeting on Thursday. This seems to be a standard answer whenever we ask a question. “Yes, we’ll explain that Thursday.” Actually, it’s more like, “Yesuh, we’lluh explainuh  thatuh onuh Tursday.” This does not jive with my “I-need-to-get-my-family-settled-and-make-this-all –seem-okay-to-them” brain. As expected, the views from the apartment of the nearby church and mountains are spectacular. Grant was especially quiet, huddled with his blankie in a chair. We were exhausted. When our campus liaison, Stephania, left, Grant burst into tears. “I thought it was going to be like a hotel, “ he sobbed into his blankie. “It would be a little better if it had carpet,” he moaned. Evidently the cold tile didn’t evoke the homey atmosphere he was envisioning. Meanwhile, every so often Anna would burst into tears because she had forgotten to say “bye” to certain friends, she missed her dogs, and she just wanted to go home. Living the dream, folks! Sheesh. We decided to drive around a bit to a few of the nearby villages to get a feel for our surroundings and try to keep the kids awake until at least 8:00.

We toured the beautiful campus, where there are basketball goals and soccer fields that will certainly get use by our G-force. Grant was awed by the ENORMOUS cypress trees, a smattering of palm trees, and gigantic evergreens scattered throughout the landscape. We then returned to our apartment to get ready for dinner.

Did I mention that it wasn’t just the tile that was cold in our apartment? The entire apartment was frigid. Upon arrival, we were told about the heating regulations imposed by the government and that our heat had been turned on, but it would only run during certain parts of the day. We fully expected our apartment to have warmed up after we explored the area a bit in our little car. Wrong. We finally alerted Stephania and she came to investigate. Another campus official was then called to the scene. Meanwhile, our children are starving and hanging on by a very thin thread. The repair man can’t come until tomorrow, so they bring us space heaters. This helps. A little. Except that the finicky, old Italian electricity keeps throwing a breaker every few minutes. We can’t use all of the heaters. The last straw was when we returned from dinner and the little apartment had retained zero heat. We didn’t want to risk the fire hazard of having a space heater in the kids’ room all night, so we called Stephania and informed her that we would need to find a hotel. At this point, it is 9:00 p.m. Tuesday night, and we haven’t slept in a bed since Sunday night.

One of the professors has not yet arrived. This is our saving grace tonight. Instead of packing up again and heading to a hotel, we were able to just move our bedding downstairs to the warm, empty apartment. We all agreed that we prefer our little upstairs apartment, so we are praying that it is fixed tomorrow (or today, I guess- jet lag brain). Grant and Anna both agreed that our first apartment is more inviting and home-like, so there’s that bit of perspective gained by them through this experience.

As I write this, I know that I will not be able to share it until tomorrow. We have no wi-fi in our apartment, which I thought would not bother me. Wrong. Suddenly, I long for interaction with the outside world and our little world at home. Also, the television in our first apartment does not work, so they swapped it with the downstairs apartment (which is where we are now staying- ahhhhh!). As we were going to bed tonight in our temporary apartment Matt looked at me and said, “Someday we’re going to laugh about this.”  I couldn’t help but giggle. We have been through some crazy times together over the past 14 years of marriage. Although we weren’t quite prepared for the tears today, we knew it would be an adjustment. We know it will get better. Easier. We are learning a new normal, and as soon as we are comfortable, it will be time to go home.

I have to end with a couple of highlights, so here they are:

I will never forget Anna’s face and excitement as she tracked our plane as it neared London. We arrived in the dark of early morning with the glittering lights of the city spread out beneath us. It was glorious. Tracking the plane as it flew over the Irish coast and neared London, she was giddy.  As for Grant, I never want to forget how much he savored every bite of his ham and cheese croissant on the flight from London to Venice. “This is a good sandwich! That cheese really stands out!” Ha! Yes, that was standout cheese, indeed.

God is good. He is here with us, and He has a plan for us right here in the midst of the chaos. He is teaching us, molding us, and stretching us. He has us here for a reason. Tonight I am praying for a warm apartment and eyes to see the opportunities set before us on this journey. Sending hugs and love to all of our friends and family at home! Ciao for now…

Tulsa Airport

Osprey should pay us for our advertising

One tired boy- even BEFORE we left Tulsa

Saying goodbye to the grandparents

The boys snoozed even after the lights came on as we cruised toward London

Soooo excited to be nearing London

Flying over the Swiss Alps- almost there!

A view from one of the many huge windows in our apartment

The gate to our apartment

Touring the CIMBA campus

Grant's dinner at the Hotel Montegrappa

Standing in our "yard" gazing out at the mountains

Update: After 14 hours of sleep (the kids awoke only because we finally decided to awaken them), fratelli (little donuts with chocolate inside), a visit to campus for wi-fi, and HEAT in our apartment, I think we can all agree... It will take some adjusting, but this is going to be one heck of an experience!