Thanksgiving: A Time to Rejoice, Pray, & Give Thanks

Dear Friends and Family,
I have so much for which to be thankful. This was a year unlike any other. Last Thanksgiving, Tiffany and I were excitedly trying to wrap our minds around the little girl's file sent to us just days before by our Lifeline case worker. We discussed it with family and looked at those pictures incessantly. Over the coming weeks and months, as our lives aligned with another some 8,000 miles from home, we experienced a purpose that left us changed. Forever.

It wasn't without challenge, though. Not everyone was thrilled about the addition of Mia to our family. Some opposed it quietly, while others actively. Tiffany and I were undeterred amidst the noise, because we knew we were doing God's will for our family. Admittedly, though, there was one concerned voice that meant more than any other, and that caused us worry: Ethan's.

We tried so many different things to help Ethan warm up to the idea of adoption. He was an only child for more than 13 years, so the addition of a new child was tough for him to comprehend. We learned his initial and primary issue was inner conflict. He knew the plight of orphans throughout the world, and he knew that such children needed loving parents and homes, and in his mind, there is none more loving than his. Yet, as any person facing radical change, he could not help but worry about what this would mean to him. So much was being made about "Mia's Place," but internally, he was roaring, "What about ETHAN's Place?"

Throughout the summer we placed a huge emphasis on Ethan. We visited Disney, made a couple trips to the beach, and did as many fun things as we possibly could to make it a summer that would even make George Costanza jealous! We had fun...lots and lots of fun...but as August arrived, and with it the start of a new school year and our trip to China (which he withstood all sorts of bribery to reject going himself), we all began grieving the sweet simplicity the three of us enjoyed his entire life. We began focusing on the lasts: the last ride to Florida, the last swim in the neighborhood pool, even the last meal as a family of three. It was bittersweet.

Then China. Then Mia. Then illness. Then a surprise pregnancy. Then a heartbreaking miscarriage. All of this converged to reek chaos in our previously serene life.

It's been well documented that the first month home with Mia was a challenge unlike anything we ever experienced. And I mean, EVER! The grief, the anger, the tantrums, the sleep deprivation, the pregnancy symptoms, the disruption...all of it stressed and strained us. Then the seizures and three days at Camp Scottish Rite changed everything.

It hasn't even been two months since the weekend that was probably the scariest and most difficult of my life. What we did not know at the time was as we emerged from that experience, we were on the other side of the crisis. Deep down, Mia learned she was part of a family and had something never before experienced: home. She began sleeping. The tantrums diminished from lasting one or two hours at a time, to one or two a day, barely lasting minutes. She began playing and squealing with joy as opposed to screeching her intense displeasure with how we turned her life upside-down. A sweet, funny,mischevious, and joy-filled child began breaking out of the grief-stricken and angry one we brought home Labor Day weekend.

As I awake on this Thanksgiving morning, and continue with my morning routine of coffee, scripture, and news headlines — while keeping an eye to the video baby monitor — I do so with a full heart! Watching Mia play in her room and feel so comfortable in her place is nothing short of miraculous when I think of where we were just three short months ago. But that isn't even the grandest miracle I'm celebrating this Thanksgiving.

For the past 10 years, our Thanksgiving is celebrated with our Christmas decor in place. There was a time when I would have technically and theologically bristled at that thought, but there's something about parenthood that softened that edge in me.

My sister is friends with the lady who brought the "Elf on the Shelf" phenomena to the world. It was a simple tradition she did in her home with her children, and as she realized she might be on to something big, she took it to craft shows and holiday bazars. My mom bought one for a two-year-old Ethan at a craft show. That next Thanksgiving, the tree had to be up to welcome back our scout elf, Sportakiss, with Christmas cheer, since that's when his annual mission commences. We obliged. Ever since, Thanksgiving Eve is spent as one of our family's favorite days of the year when we decorate our house for Christmas. That way, when Sportakiss arrives in the wee hours of Thanksgiving morning, he can see we're ready for him. Then, as the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade begins, we're all cuddled together with the pleasant warmth of a fire and the ethereal glow of our Christmas tree. And today, there is a fourth Jordan experiencing this tradition for the very first time. And it won't be the last of the traditions Mia experiences for the first time over the next month.

Speaking of tradition, there is a new one that Tiffany decided to initiate this year: matching family Christmas jammies. Maybe you saw the picture I snapped of Mia trying on her's for the very first time. We all tried on our new Christmas sleep gear on Tuesday evening, and within those few moments, our Thanksgiving miracle occurred.

Ethan snapped a similar picture as the one I shared of Mia in her elf pajamas and shared it with some of his friends who just adore his little sister. With that picture, he added a caption: "When you become that family that wears matching Christmas jammies, and realize you like becoming that family."

Tiffany was reduced to tears and left the room in that authentic reveal of affection from a teen who just a month ago was more inclined to receive a hug from this new child in order to slap a "Return to Sender" sticker on her back and walk her to the shipping store barely a mile from our home. Tiffany told me this the next day, and I, too, was filled with such gratitude as we see ourselves coming full circle this past year.

On Thanksgiving 2014, we were just getting glimpses of the massive changes coming for our family. On Thanksgiving 2015 we can see the evidence of God weaving four souls together to form one family. This occurs as we warm ourselves by a pleasant fire and the ethereal glow of our Christmas tree, reminding us of God's gift of Jesus, signifying we all have the spirit of adoption to be accepted into God's eternal family. And now, this year, our family is under the watchful eyes of two scout elves: Sportakiss (who, by the way is sporting a new leather jacket!) and a little she-elf who has yet to receive her magic-inducing name.

Through the thick and thin of 2015, as I again awake on Thanksgiving morn, I can see God's providential hand guiding me to this point. Through life-altering decisions; staying steady in the face of opposition; raising more money than we thought possible; traveling miles upon miles from the RACE for the Orphans to China and home again; nearly two months of sleepless nights; countless temper tantrums (Mia's, Tiffany's, and mine); a multitude of doctors visits and trips to three different hospitals to date; the ordinary mornings, mealtimes, and bedtimes; to one simple, yet extraordinary moment, where my seemingly indifferent teen son proved he was anything-but by quietly declaring we were indeed a family of four — this Thanksgiving is one I will never forget. Ever.

The Apostle Paul's words in 1 Thessalonians 5.16-18 strike me with a renewed profundity this Thanksgiving: "Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus." My life summed up in three short verses. I rejoice for what God has done, and is doing, in my life...and not just this year, but for eternity. I remember the prayers of desperation uttered, and especially the ones that are now lifted as prayers of celebration. I do indeed thank God for the circumstances of 2015, because the flames forged a brand new Mark, revealing a renewed sense of purpose in my life for the cause of Christ Jesus. A Happy Thanksgiving, indeed.

The first Thanksgiving was celebrated to thank God for the help He provided the pilgrims to survive that first year in a new homeland, even in the midst of life-threatening circumstances. I know definitively that I cannot compare my past year with the first year the pilgrims experienced in the New World, but I see parallels. Crises endured and conquered. Strangers turned into family. Prayers lifted and answered. A time to pause, feast, and give thanks for it all. We know from history that there were dark times on the horizon for the Native Americans and those staking claim to the "New World" as their home, just as I'm sure there will be some for us in the future. Today, though, I pause to rejoice over my family, pray with my family, and thank God for my family since this is God's will for us in the good days and tough days alike.

So from my Thanksgiving 2015 musings in my recliner with a cup of joe and my babies surrounding me, to the dinner table later today, and into whatever the future holds, I want you to know I am truly grateful. Sure, I've become that dad that defies spiritual morés to enjoy our Christmas decor prior to Thanksgiving and the start of Advent no less — and I will don my silly elf jammies in due time — but I'm taking a cue from my 13-year-old son to declare that I like it. I love being that dad, in fact! I've literally circled the globe to make it possible. I can say with great joy today, despite all that's happened, that I'd do it again without reservation. And with thanksgiving.

Happy Thanksgiving from my family to yours. May it be a day of rejoicing, prayer, and gratitude for all of us. For this is God's will. And not just on our American Thanksgiving holiday, but all day every day.

Gratefully Yours,
Mark

Hello, Dear Pearl

Dear Mia,

Today is a big day for our family. It marks the one-year anniversary of a phone call that forever changed my life. All of our lives. 

We were nearly eleven months into our adoption journey, and resolution seemed elusive. We entered into the process with conviction and courage, but just as with much of life, little of it went as planned. Our home study took an inordinate amount of time due to some unusual circumstances. During the preceding summer months, a computer server crashed, and a lot of our information was lost. Luckily I kept copies of everything, but it would take weeks before the agency was able to ascertain all they needed. Then, when I was sending the information they needed, the packet was lost in the mail. And it only had to go ten miles. We lost months in the process, but admittedly, what we lost more of was confidence. 

Mommy and I began questioning if we were on the right path. Then strangely, and somewhat out of the blue, a domestic possibility arose, and we began wondering if that was God's plan for our family. But then that possibility fell through, too, and we were even more confused. We knew God was calling us to the cause of defending the fatherless (Isaiah 1:17), but things felt out of our hands, and therefore, out of our control.

So back to one year ago today. It was a Friday...the Friday before Thanksgiving. I was enjoying my Sabbath day at home and in my man cave, or our bonus room as you probably know it, enjoying the solitude. As I have many times before in my life, I felt the call to pray. It was similar to how your Poppy Charlie used to put his hand on my shoulder and say, "son, we need to talk." So I reclined in the couch and spent some time in prayer. 

There were three things that I felt God calling me meditate upon: (1) the Childcare Center at the church, and our new vision statement to be a place for all God's children; (2) some dear friends who were struggling mightily with their child; and (3) our own call to adoption. I didn't ask God for a sign or a miracle, I just asked Him for peace. Peace in the church. Peace in the home of our friends. And peace in my own spirit as I wrestled with things not happening according to my timeline and wishes. 

Within a few minutes of emerging from prayer, I went downstairs and prepared to get Ethan from school. I was scooping the litter box, which you still think is your sandbox, when the phone rang. It was our case worker from Lifeline. She called to share some news with me. 

She said she was in an advocacy meeting where the staff in the agency look at the files for children who need homes. This was a particularly important meeting, because Lifeline brought in a new partnership orphanage, and in that facility were many children who needed forever families. Rachel said that when she saw the picture of this one little girl in particular, she saw our family. As soon as that meeting ended, she hurried to her office to call me. This little girl's file didn't really match what we had placed on our special needs form, but she had a particular feeling that she felt compelled to follow, so she asked if we would review it. 

I agreed to receive the file and learned a little bit about this child. She was abandoned at birth, but now she was two-years-old. She had an issue where additional fluid built up on her brain. She required two surgeries to address the issue, but was doing very well now. She was a little slow to speak and walk and do other things young children do, because she spent so much of her early life in a hospital. She needed a mommy and a daddy who would love her, teach her, watch over her, and get her the care she needed to learn, grow, and thrive.

Honestly, we weren't completely sure. We just weren't. But as mommy and I talked about it, we decided that the synchronization of events meant that God was bringing us together. We talked and prayed and decided to say, yes. I sure am glad we did.  That little girl who needed a family and a home? That little girl was you. 

It took mommy and me getting out of the way and surrendering ourselves to the Lord's plan for everything to work out like it was supposed to. And once we had the assurance that we were indeed on the right track, things began to make sense. 

Servers crashing. 

Lost mail.

Additional requirements for mommy and me that were outside the original plan. 

Frustrating delays. 

All of it. 

Honestly, it seemed random and senseless. It wasn't. We were chomping at the bit to bring a child into our home, but God didn't want any old child for us, and he especially didn't want any old family for you. God was bringing us together, and we needed time. You weren't quite ready when we were, so we were asked to wait. We just couldn't see it for what it was at the time. But when the time came, it was the right time. You were the right little girl. We were the right mommy and daddy. And now we are one family...you, brother, mommy, and me. It was so hard waiting and wondering, but we see redemption all over our entire family's life, and God's fingerprints are all over us, too. 

On this one year anniversary of that life-changing afternoon that began with a call to pray followed by a call on the phone, I again find myself marveling at the gift that is you, Mia. This experience challenges us, no doubt, but what is being forged through the trials is something priceless. Like the initial grain of sand that in time produces a pearl, our life together is beautiful. And I wouldn't trade it for all the jewels in the world. 

Right now I have a picture of a bridge in Guangzhou, China as the wallpaper on my computer. It is one of my favorite pictures from our entire trip, taken on a dinner cruise with other families adopting, too. It was a fun evening. The bridge reminds me of the journey and the crossing all four of us made from one life to another. It reminds me of crossing the world for you, and crossing it again to reunite with Ethan and bring you home. It also reminds me of how God crossed from heaven to earth in Jesus so we all can be saved and adopted into His holy family. 

But there is something else about that evening that strikes me on this one-year anniversary. We were traveling on the Pearl River in China. The Bible talks about how the Kingdom of God is like a gorgeous pearl that a man sold everything he had in order to acquire it (Matthew 13:45-46). I feel kind of like that in our journey together. From the challenges, heartache, expense, and the sheer demand of what it meant to follow God's plan for us — and even considering some of the pain we've endured since then — I am reminded of that pearl of great price. It is more than just a single solitary soul...it is about the faith, trust, and the obedience we all needed then, and frankly need still. The hallmarks of our daily life together with God. 

Things can still be tough, and I know we haven't faced the last of our challenges. But we're in this together, thanks to the faithful hand of our Almighty God. Our pearl of great price is found in the sweet moments when you call us mommy and daddy. They are also found in the tear stains on our shirts when you've buried your head on a shoulder to cry and release your pain. They are also found in the moments when our entire family gathers and we see you in your place. They are also found when you enter a worship space and the many people God placed on this journey with us get to see the results of a lot of hard work and prayer, right there in the flesh. Our pearl is obedience that is revealed in relationship, Mia. In the good days and in the more challenging days, we are here, together, bound by the love and spirit of God that brings us all into His family. 

Reflecting back over this past year, I want to say one more thing. It won't be the last by any means, but it's how I want to close this letter to you today, dear Mia. I am glad I answered that call. Both of them, actually. I am glad I entered into prayer when our Heavenly Father said, "son, we need to talk," because it was in that moment He was placing your family in our case worker's heart, too. And I'm glad I answered her call when she phoned me. In both of those cases, "hello" turned out to be the word that changed my world. 

And as I post this letter to you while you're stirring after a restful night's sleep, I look forward to hearing your little voice enthusiastically greet me with the "Hello!" you say when we enter your room. May that greeting initiate the second year of a changed life for all of us yet. We still have a lot to celebrate: your first Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, Easter, and your birthday before your Gotcha and Adoption Days roll around again, but I can't wait for all the "hellos" between now, then, and long thereafter. 

Good morning, my dear Mia. Welcome to this day that marks the first anniversary of the date everything changed for us all. Let's see what it has in store, beginning with a "hello," my dear pearl! 

Love, 

Dad

Keep on Shining!

I had an interesting reflection the other day. It was a rainy and dreary Friday evening, and I had to run to the store to get some provisions for the weekend. Kroger was so crazy-busy with others getting off work doing the same thing as I, and people were milling about in such a rush to get back to their families and their warm dry homes.

The parking lot was full, and as I left my car to scurry to the front of the store, something occurred that has become all too common: nothing. No one spoke to me, or really even acknowledged me for that matter. I know I am often guilty of this, too, but something was going on in my car that once upon a time would have raised an air of concern from other shoppers...my headlights were still on.

My little car has automatic lights, and will stay on for about thirty seconds after arming the alarm and keyless entry system. It used to be that when this happened, people would graciously approach me to let me know my lights were still on out of concern for my car battery. Now that automated headlights are pretty common on our vehicles, people rarely notice or care if they see someone else's headlights still on in an empty car. After scurrying to the overhang, I turned around for a quick glance and was struck by how many headlights were piercing through the rain drops and dreary dusk.

This got me thinking about Jesus' instructions to let our light so shine so others can see the goodness of God through our good deeds (Matthew 5:16). It seems advancements in technology have all but removed our ability to warn someone that their lights are still on, but the fact that our light must continue to shine regardless leaves us with an ongoing responsibility. Though parking lots might be somewhat illuminated by the coming and going of people with their automatic lights, what is going on in the immediate wake of our ordinary coming and going?

If we are truly to let our light shine for God, then we do this best when we utilize our life and energy to make an impact so the glow of our unique illumination lingers for others to see. Some might consider this leaving a legacy, but we are called to do this every day and every place we go.

Do you leave a glow when you exit your car? A store? Your office? Your home? Your place of recreation and play? Is your light shining so as to leave an illuminating glow wherever you go?

Perhaps we need to recapture the kindness of letting people know their "lights are still on." This can be done by showing gratitude, compassion, forgiveness, graciousness, and mercy. Compliment, don't criticize. Congratulate, don't critique. Look for the goodness of God in others, and shine a light on it so others can also bask in its glow. Your own light can be a light-starter for someone else, and in so doing, you never know whose life you might just help God change.

I am reminded of some wisdom my mom used to share with us when we were still young, and sticks with me today: a candle loses nothing by sharing its light. May we be light-sharers for the goodness of God and in service to others. If we are intent on changing the world — and that is our mission, by the way — then it begins simply by letting the glow of our own Jesus light radiate and keep on shining.

"You are the light of the world.
A city on top of a hill can’t be hidden. 

Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a basket. 

Instead, they put it on top of a lampstand,
and it shines on all who are in the house. 

In the same way, let your light shine before people, 

so they can see the good things you do
and praise your Father who is in heaven." 

(Matthew 5:14-16)

The Lord's Prayer

The Lord's Prayer, also known as The Our Father, is one of the best known prayers and liturgical components in regular corporate worship. I remember learning The Lord's Prayer as part of my Confirmation Class when I was Ethan's age. I recall it being a part of weekly worship, but I needed to read it out of the bulletin until I had to recite it from memory for Confirmation. Today, The Lord's Prayer is an important part of my worship life, both public and private. 

The Lord's Prayer is sourced in Scripture as taught by Jesus, which is the primary reason it is held so highly. It is recorded by the Gospel writers Matthew and Luke, and each version is slightly different from the other. Here is the version as found in Matthew 6.9-13: "Pray then in this way: Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come. Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors. And do not bring us to the time of trial, but rescue us from the evil one." The context of The Lord's Prayer in Matthew's Gospel is actually part of the Sermon on the Mount. As Jesus teaches on prayer in His most famous sermon, His emphasis is on humility and authenticity in prayer, as opposed to those who want to turn prayer into a performance and show for others. 

The version that we have in the Gospel of Luke 11:2-4 is shorter than Matthew's, and comes with a slightly different context. Luke's version of the prayer is, "He said to them, 'When you pray, say: Father, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come. Give us each day our daily bread. And forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us. And do not bring us to the time of trial.'” The context of the The Lord's Prayer in Luke's Gospel comes as teaching advice from Jesus about prayer. The disciples saw the power of prayer exhibited in Jesus' life, and they wanted that power for themselves. 

You probably noticed that the version we use in worship, weddings, funerals, and in other forms of worship is different from what we read in both Matthew and Luke's Gospels. This is simply because of how different churches and traditions have utilized and incorporated The Lord's Prayer throughout history. The version most similar to the one we use today was adopted in the early 1600s. For quick reference and use, this is the version we use in worship: "Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever. Amen."

In both cases, The Lord's Prayer is intended to be more of a model for prayer given by Jesus as opposed to the model prayer that we might be inclined to consider it. Using a model for prayer — like The Lord's Prayer — can help organize and make the most of your quiet time. This is the simple model I shared in worship on Sunday:

- Acknowledge God, recognizing that acknowledging God means admitting you are NOT God;

- Confess your needs for God, for God's forgiveness, AND for help with your need to forgive others;

- Thank God for God's grace, presence, gifts, and God's daily provisions;

- Seek God's help for things big and small things alike.

We will explore some of the relational components of prayer and life with God using The Lord's Prayer this coming Sunday. I hope you will make plans to be with us this week, and each Sunday this month, as we take unique and exciting glimpses into our life with God through Jesus' gift to us in this holy and beautiful prayer.