Posts Tagged ‘DRCStuck’
In February, 2016, the DRC released the first of what was to be several small lists of families being given permission to bring their children home. We were so thankful to be on that first list, although it seemed our case was still not moving forward well. So, we decided to travel to Kinshasa, and do everything we could in person. We ended up staying a bit longer than anticipated, and missed Easter at home, but in the end – it was so worth it. Two and a half weeks after arriving, we came home to unite our family – finally and wholly together.
Thank you, Jesus.
Our prayers continue for the many, many families still waiting to bring their children home from the DRC. Some progress has been made, but it continues that children who already have families and homes are not being allowed to travel to join them. We pray that VERY SOON, all of these children will be forever united with their families.
We also pray for the DRC, and for all that God is up to in their midst. Political transitions, empowering the people, and inspiring new creation paths for the future Congolese – God is doing a new thing…
I realize I’ve not written much in the past few months. I started my masters’ degree this past January, and with the adoption journey being a roller coaster of emotions – it’s hard to know what to say during the few moments I have to say it. I’m certainly still writing, but most of it is in the form of papers at the moment.
One of my recent assignments for a “Spiritual Formation” class was to illustrate a prayer request. So I made a video about our adoption journey. It ended up being tougher for me to even watch than I thought, because it’s a bit emotional. But I’m proud of how it came out. It’s been on YouTube less than 2 days, and already has almost 1,000 views – so I figured I should probably share it with my mom and the few other readers that are still here. 🙂
Thanks so much for your continued prayers and encouragement…
There is a stifling silence in carrying a burden, a weight so uncertain and hurting,
In search of a balm, we check the Psalms, and we learn that in turn,
these struggles that rock our home
Can become our megaphone.
Because it’s hard, and we’re not alone.
Our scars run deep, and to the bone. It seems like evil is on the throne,
runs the show, and even though we know there’s something greater,
it always seems like later – never now.
Never knowing how we’ll make it to tomorrow, but the sun comes up again.
And I guess that means we’re doing well, even though sometimes it just feels like we’re surviving.
For some, that’s the extent of thriving.
When driving rain comes faster than the wipers can clear a path.
The aftermath, sometimes silent, can come in violent waves unexpected
Of hope rejected, knowing sometimes there’s more dark before the dawn.
And if this was a song, it’d go on for sometime, before the key would change.
If an honest poem, more turning of the page, before the stage were reset,
The dim lights begin to raise, because there are better days ahead,
the field is not dead,
In fact, there is wheat growing among the weeds, some seeds of hope that cannot be rejected.
Knowing what’s expected, is not etched in stone, evil is not on the throne,
no matter how much sway it may seem to hold. Our whispers grow bold,
as we gather our broken bones, and cry out to the throne –
Lord Come. We need you.
Our arms are growing weary, and we need you.
Our eyes have grown bleary from the tears, over years and Lord we need you.
The blisters on our road-scarred feet scream for us to retreat, and we need you.
Our children look to us for answers we cannot provide,
and so with arms stretched wide we confide – Lord – we need you.
There is no other ear that even comes near to hearing our stifled voices,
choices all around us for ways to avoid this feeling of burden
A burden so certain and so heavy we want to find relief,
yet so infused to our hearts that we cannot put it down.
Clever words fail, and so we wet sail on uncharted waters
Praying the one who walks on water, the one who saves,
will be with us to calm the waves.