The Weight of It All

When I was a cheerleader in high school, our coach--who was trying to either maintain or restore our image as model citizens--would not let us say something 'sucks'.  We always had to say it 'inhales profusely'.  Fifteen years later, that is still my go-to phrase when something goes badly (thanks, Mrs. Sanders).  Well, I am just going to say it, sometimes life pretty much inhales . . .

Don't get me wrong.  My life isn't really all that bad. It's actually quite pleasant. I had a beautiful childhood; I am happily married to a man much nicer than me; I have two seemingly well-adjusted, healthy children; we have jobs we thoroughly enjoy most of the time; we have a wonderful church family; and we can go out and buy our needs and often our wants.  Minus the white picket fence--which we have replaced with a well-maintained greenbelt--all is well in the microcosm of life that is the Bell home.

But, this week reminds me that all is not well in the world. All is not even well in my neighborhood.  Parents must mourn children lost unexpectedly.  Students must deal with sickness, divorce, bullying, failure.  Those on the East Coast must find a way to rebuild their drenched, wrecked homes.  And, the country that is home to our third child must take the brunt of yet another violent civil war.  Really, even when things are going well in our own home, not a day goes by that we don't hear of someone's life, somewhere else, spiraling out of control. 

Honestly, this week has left me a bit disheartened. I really don't understand why 60,000 people signed a petition for Texas to secede from the Union and only 800 signed a petition for the United States to use nothing but its diplomatic power to speak against a band of rebels terrorizing an entire country.  I really don't understand why the news covers Obama shopping with his daughters but doesn't talk about the slaughter that is going on in the eastern Congo.  When I see another dog wedding or "Best Toys in 2012" segment, I just want to scream, "Really? Children are dying.  Families are being torn apart. People are starving."  But, in my frustration, I realize something else, too . . . 

There are times when the chaos is so close to us that we have no choice but to act, to feel outrage for those suffering.  But, when it is removed, when we aren't personally involved, we often just have to move on.  And, I get it.  I have done it with Hurricane Sandy. I have done it with Libya, and Egypt, and Israel.  I have done it with the Angel Tree, I have done it with that button I have to push to help homeless animals at Petsmart, I have done it with the lame man and the unborn.

Why?  Because, honestly, I can't handle the overwhelming weight of it all. Globally, I don't know what difference it will make.   Personally, I don't know what to say, I don't know how to give, I don't even know sometimes what to pray for.   And, if I prayed for everything bad thing that I heard happening in the world and in my neighborhood, I would never get off my knees.   

Ah, and there it is. Even in my typing, I realize it.  On my knees. . . .where I am reminded of my Savior, who gave up His life for the world He so loved.  Who came to this Earth for one reason, to suffer so that we would not have to bear the weight of sin forever.  And, honestly, that is the only place where I can find hope. When it is personal--when I am struggling with anxiety and frustration and fear--I cling to the cross.  And, really, that is where the beauty of suffering lies: it leaves us with nothing but our Savior and the recognition that, in all things, He is enough.  

Taking Shape . . .

Friends,

I know I presented a huge fundraising goal of $6300 last week to benefit an orphanage in dire need in the DRC.  I wanted to send out an update and to give details of how a few things have taken shape to make the goal that much more manageable.  (If you did not read the first post about the fundraiser and beneficiaries), I encourage you to check out the post Who's In?)

In an effort to raise school costs for all of the children at the orphanage for the spring term and to purchase 40 bunk beds so the children have a place to sleep, we are raising funds through two different campaigns. You are also welcome to give any amount you feel is appropriate; no amount is too small.  You can do so through www.ourfamilyadoptions.org (click on Donate and in the Specific Item choice, select Other and type "For the Bell Efforts"). Please email me, if you don't mind, so I can stay updated on our progress.

• "School is Cool!" Campaign:  My daughter Kate came up with the idea for this fundraiser. We are going to sell silicone bracelets that say "School is Cool!".  Graciously, my daughter's elementary school principal and my middle school principal are allowing us to sell these bracelets at their campuses.  Teachers, students, administrators, heads of PTA: this may be a great way for you to help! If you have access to a campus that would allow you to sell bracelets to send a group of children to school, you could help.  Your school will be able to send a check to a 501(c)(3) organization, and my goal is to make the bracelets $1.00.  I think it would be AWESOME for Kate to have an idea and then for her to see it make a difference in the lives of children who would not be able to go to school otherwise.
• "Buy-a-Bed Campaign":  I am so excited to report--through online donations and a fundraiser held by my sweet church home group--we have raised enough money to purchase 6 beds for the orphanage.  We are almost 1/3 of the way there!  If you have a group that is looking for a way to bless others during the holiday season--or a group of friends that are looking to do something beside a Christmas exchange--I invite you to be part of our "Buy-a-Bed" Campaign.  The cost of a bunk bed is approximately $200.  On an exciting note: I just found out that one family has already been planning to provide fitted sheets and another family is in the process of making quilts, before they even knew we were working to provide the beds.  What a beautiful orchestration of God's plans.

And, I just want to say thank you for reading this all the way through.  I know this is a tough season for giving. I hope these ideas make giving more manageable and allow you to perhaps make memories with friends/family while helping raise funds for these children. I just gave an update to the leaders of Our Family in Africa, and I cannot express the humble gratitude they have for any assistance we can provide.

If you have any ideas or questions, please contact me at kristenabell@gmail.com.

Love,
Kristen

Unfortunately, I am a pretty big hypocrite . . .

Be careful not to do your acts of righteousness before men, to be seen by them. Matthew 6:1

 

 

So, this verse is the reason I struggled with writing a blog of our experience in the first place.  I definitely want to be careful that we don't seek the praise of men.  I decided to write about our experience for one reason: so that the Gospel would go forth.  So that those who do not know God would see Him work so perfectly that they would want to know Him, and that those who know God would be encouraged to seek Him even more. 

 

It is only natural for us to see the person in an act.  It is natural to be inspired by their story; to place them on a "righteous" pedestal; to feel guilt that we aren't doing the same thing. But, that robs all of us of the growth that comes with the Lord working on our hearts.    Looking at another person who is in a season of fruitfulness can make us want to say, "Man, that is awesome for them; but, I am just not that [fill in the blank]."  Let me very clear: left to our own devices, Philip and I are pretty wicked. We are about as far from magic righteous dust as it comes. 

 

I have wanted to tell this story, to confess this moment, since we returned. I just did not have the words until reading these verses tonight.  On the second day of our visit, Philip and I had been driving around in our taxi.  We had driven through town to the orphanage and were on our way back to the hotel.  We had seen poverty at every corner--poverty so pervasive that it all started to blend together, to become gray even, to not seem that bad.  As we drove on a crowded street--littered with trash and goods and people--we stopped to get some water. Our translator had not let us out of the taxi at any of the other stops; but, at this one, he said, "Come on!" We looked at one another and then at him with a quizzical "Are you sure?"  glance.  Yes, he meant for us to go in the market with him.  

 

We were a bit bewildered.  We had been in the airport, in a taxi, in the hotel, and in the orphanage.  All places that were used to seeing visitors. On the crowded Congolese streets, we had not seen another non-African face.  We did not know the protocol, and we did not know how we would be perceived.  So, we timidly got out of the car and headed straight to the market. 

 

That is where I saw him.  A lame man.  I had never seen a lame man before.  He was pulling himself along on the sidewalk by his arms; his hands were cushioned by a pair of old flip-flops, fingers where the toes should go; and his legs followed limp behind him.  He came up to our mid-calf, and looked up at everyone with beseeching eyes, completely dependent on others for support.    The lame man and I got to the steps that led to the market at the same time.  I stepped back, wanting to allow him to go before me.  He looked up at me, and I motioned him forward.   But, he did not move.  This Southerner gave her little smile of well-mannered courtesy.  The security guard, however, did not smile; he waved me in to the market with a frighteningly serious face.  Because I did not understand the language, and because I was naive to what was really going on, I went in.  I turned around to see the security guard close the door in the man's face.  He was not allowed with us, and my stomach sank. 

 

We quickly went to the aisle, picked out a safe bottle of water, and headed to the counter.  The entire time my head was reeling, but we were being watched, and so I said nothing.  Our translator negotiated the sale, we paid, and quickly walked back onto the street. To my left was the lame man, holding up a cup to a group of ambivalent bystanders.  Again, he looked at them beseechingly--for water, for food--I could not tell.  I knew what I should do, but I kept walking.  I had the ability and means to help him.  I had the power of the Holy Spirit to pray over him and to bring healing to his body or spirit. But, I did not do either.  Out of cowardice and ignorance and naivete, I got back in the car. 

 

Immediately, it hit me, but it was too late.  We were driving away. I was the Priest and Levite who did not stop to render aid.  I was the hypocrite who did not feed or clothe the least of the Lord's.   I was Peter who was given three chances to claim Christ, and I failed every time. I am sure the people in the Bible--those whom Jesus mocked and ridiculed for their self-righteousness--felt they had a good excuse for not helping someone, but just like me, their excuse was rooted in their own wicked heart.
 

For a few days, I wallowed in self-contempt.  But, I know worldly sorrow is of no good.  I must remember that I have a God who loves me despite me.  Just seeing the small glimpse of my own selfishness in this story, I am keenly aware that I have no hope outside of His death on the cross and defeat over my sin and death through His resurrection.  If I rely on my own good deeds, I am doomed; but God who is rich in mercy, paid a way for me to have Christ's righteousness, not my own.  And, I can live with His forgiveness of this sin and countless others. 

 

That doesn't mean the lame man will not haunt me. I know if I see him again, I will care for him.  I have learned the lesson that comes with not taking such opportunities.  Chances are, though, that won't happen.  So, I am left to pray for him.  Tonight, I prayed for him in the words of one of my favorite songs:

 

You were singing in the dark
whispering Your promise
even when he could not hear
May he be held in your arms
carried for a thousand miles to show
Not for a moment did You forsake him
and every step every breath you are there
every tear every cry every prayer
in his hurt at his worst
when his world falls down
not for a moment will You forsake his
even in the dark
even when it's hard
may you never leave him

 

I will continue to pray for him--on my knees and through tears--that the Lord will save him. I pray that I may not be paralyzed by my own wickedness, but that in recognizing my weaknesses, His power would be made perfect in us and our messy story. And I pray that one day, I will meet the lame man in heaven, dancing for His Savior.  

 

Who's In?

Alright, so here it goes: we are officially raising funds. 

While tons of people have to raise funds for their adoption--and they have had the opportunity to watch the Lord work through those efforts--the Lord blessed us by asking us to sacrifice (see blog about Philip's truck) and by leading us to a wonderful organization.  Therefore, most of our adoption costs have been covered.

This leaves us with an incredible opportunity to raise funds for a wonderful cause: to support an orphanage in great need in the Democratic Republic of Congo.  The orphanage houses approximately 60 older children living with a wonderful woman who saw their need and stepped in to fill it.  Unlike the orphanage that adopting families support while their children are waiting, these children are not going to be adopted; they are being raised in the DRC to eventually make a difference in their own country.

But, their situation is dire.  The founder struggles to provide furniture, food and education for the children.  They must daily rest on God's provision and on people's hearts to move on their behalf.

That is where we come in. In this time of Thanksgiving, I would love to help this sweet home. Our fundraising goal is to raise $6300 by December 1.  That is a pretty hefty goal (and double what I initially expected to seek from you).  But, God has blessed us with some great friends with some big hearts.

What will $6300 cover?

• Currently, they do not have funds to send the children to school next term. As an educator, I would love to raise the $2300 that will cover the expenses to educate all of the children at the orphanage for the next term.
• The orphanage is also desperately in need of beds.  They need 20 bunk beds, which cost approximately $200 a piece.  We hope to help orchestrate the delivery and construction of these beds on our next visit. 

Would you prayerfully consider helping us raise funds to bless these children?

If you are interested in making a donation, please go to www.ourfamilyadoptions.org.  On that site, you can click to donate to Our Family in Africa.  When you donate, please select for the fund, "Other Special Relief" and state "For the Bell Efforts".  The director will know that these funds are going to help the orphanage.  In addition, please email me the donation information (kristenabell@gmail.com), so that I can keep everyone posted about our progress. OFA is a recognized 501(c)(3), so you will receive tax-deductible information for your donations.

Finally, if you would like to discuss OFA further, or have some creative fundraising ideas, please email me at kristenabell@gmail.com. 

Thank you again for your consideration. We look forward to watching the Lord work to help the least of these and to celebrate with you when He has used our little community to change lives. 

Uncovering Santa

So, I think this is the year that Santa will officially be uncovered in our house.  That's okay; I have really enjoyed it, but I look forward to watching my children help other kids enjoy the magic of Santa.  I have wanted to make the moment I tell our daughter a teachable moment. A few friends sent me letters and blogs of other ways they told their children, so this will be our attempt.  Will update how it goes.

Kate,

You have asked me if I am Santa.  I am not Santa, but your dad and I have brought much of the Santa magic to our home.  Just like you guessed, we have filled your stocking on Christmas and stayed up until late at night so that you can wake on Christmas morning to the magic of presents left by Santa while you were sleeping. Pops has even eaten the cookies you left.  It has been such a joy to watch you and your brother’s excitement and to create a home that is full of warmth, and love, and magic.
But, I always want you to know that I will tell you the truth, no matter what.

Unfortunately, the “magic” of Santa does not really exist this side of heaven.  No man—other than God—can be everywhere, can know everything, can travel the world in one night.  It is such a sweet time to be able to be young and to be able to believe in the impossible; so every Christmas, those young and old suspend reality for the dream of Santa. 

And, Santa is such a wonderful example of things in life that really do exist:

·         We serve a powerful God who knows so much more than Santa;

·         Our God loves to lavish us with His blessing and gifts better than any Christmas present could be;

·         Our God does not count whether we are naughty or nice—he loves us anyway;

·         Our God promises that, one day, we will be in a world where truly “magical” things happen—we will live forever, we won’t get sick or die, we will have a home where we are loved and cared for;

·         And we are to spread His compassion and love to others.

How wonderful that Santa does exist inside each one of us who knows our Savior.  Santa is found in the love we have for other people: to deeply desire that they have the best, to try to create moments where they feel warmth and comfort, to try to see the best in them. 

I will always be thankful for the memories I have had where you were “wowed” by Santa’s magic and love for you; my prayer is that, as you grow older, our Lord and Savior would wow you even more.   

Love,

Mom