I love the way God writes a story with the paper of our life and the pen of His Holy Spirit.
From the time I was a child I knew conceptually that God loved me. I knew that He sent Jesus to die on the cross for sinners. I knew this and believed as much as any child could. But in the back of my mind, I sort of thought God was lucky to have me on His team. Perhaps He even smiled when He thought of me, because I wasn’t really “that bad”. Especially not like those other sinners He died for.
It wasn’t until college that the fruition of my childhood belief became a deep and life-changing faith. It wasn’t until I became the person that I had always judged that God showed me his far-reaching grace. I was transformed as I began to believe the truth that I was more sinful than I could dare to imagine and more loved than I could dare to dream.
Cornerstones of the Christian faith like grace, imputed righteousness, the power of the Spirit, community, evangelism, and other foundational truths I’d been taught as a kid became my oxygen. Jesus was no longer a part of my life…He became MY LIFE.
It was as if I had purchased a fully furnished house and finally had the electric company come and cut the lights on! Everything that was needed to live was in place and finally, it was a home that could be richly enjoyed.
Upon graduation, I zealously entered full-time Christian work and couldn’t wait to tell college students just like me about Jesus. I fell in love with watching the light grow from a flicker to a flame, as they began to understand the Gospel. I loved my job. Full time ministry! What’s not to love? Yet, God gently showed me that I was using my profession and ministry successes to prop up my ego and validate my identity. Full-time ministry was a good thing, but I had made it into a god thing, an idol in which my value and worth were found.
In the thick of my love affair with ministry you can bet your bottom dollar that I firmly believed I did not need a man to slow me down. And, on cue, per my pride, God used a trip to do Hurricane Katrina relief work to introduce me to a person He would use to show me His unfailing love
There we were, hundreds of Cru staff and college students covered in mud and bug bites, freezing our tails off sleeping on cots under circus tents and taking showers in the back of 18-wheelers. There he was, leading a team from Ole Miss and there was me, leading a team that “just so happened” to needed to bunk up with their students because there was no room for us at any other sites. Sparks flew, but the timing wasn’t quite right. Six months later we started dating, six months later we were engaged, six months later we were married and the rest is history! Literally HIS story!
I remember one night, Joel sat me down and said that he felt I had nothing left to give and that ministry was in a sense the "third wheel” in our relationship. I was heart-broken and ashamed but I knew that ministry-aholism and the anxiety that comes along with it were something that I needed to process and battle. God used Joel to teach me so much of His love and my identity in Christ being perfect and complete, not needing to work harder or do better and that I no longer needed to avoid sin to avoid my need for Jesus. It was powerful.
A few years into marriage we (and by we I actually mean “I”), finally moved from fear to faith and decided to try and start a family. After a year of “trying” we realized it simply wasn’t happening. This was soul-wrenching. I remember numerous trips home to see our family when I’d have fully envisioned and planned “the announcement” and played out how excited our parents would be to become grandparents. But every time, there was no announcement to be made. The endless cycle of hope and despair continued. Two years later, I remember our reproductive endocrinologist patting me on the knee and saying that humanly speaking, there was no reason we should not be able to conceive and that perhaps there was a Higher Power who had a better plan. This was the confirmation we needed to end fertility treatments and pursue adoption.
Our gut reaction was to begin an international adoption process. It seemed the sexy thing to do; yet after looking at our options, it didn’t seem to be the right fit. We pursued domestic infant adoption the way many of our friends had done, but again, we lacked the peace and confirmation that we needed to proceed. Of course, the ONE THING we said we’d NEVER do was foster and adopt a child through social services. I mean, we’d never been parents before and weren’t these kids typically older with more issues? We decided to do our due diligence and attend an interest meeting. It was there that the Holy Spirit made it irresistibly clear what He had in store to build our family.
We walked away with fresh tears on our faces and a forged plan to fight for a child. We spent 9 months meticulously scribbling out all our paperwork and then waiting. In the darkest of places, smack in the middle of a “what the heck is taking so long” pity party, we got the call. Okay, well, really I made the call because “WHAT THE HECK WAS TAKING SO LONG???” But the social worker on the other end of the line asked me, “Did you not get a phone call already? You were matched yesterday with a kid… Or maybe it was two kids? I’m not sure…just call this number.” And call the number I sure did. It took that social worker 4 hours to return my phone call. FOUR HOURS, PEOPLE!?! Do you know how well you can clean your oven when you have 4 hours of nervous energy pumping through your veins?
There were a flurry of phone calls and emotions followed by a pivotal conversation with a friend whose advice we trusted… WHO JUST SO HAPPENED TO HAVE OUR FUTURE SON IN HER RESPITE FOSTER CARE AT THAT VERY MOMENT!!! Within a day we were not only matched, but we were in LOVE with not one, but two precious children.
A boatload of details needed to be worked out. Details like car seats, elementary schools and job transitions. But amidst the details we were seeing miracles happen and dreams we never even knew to dream, were coming true. Joel’s birthday fell in the midst of the hubbub. I deliriously asked him if there were anything he’d like for his birthday. With his eyes filled with emotion, he sweetly said that all he wanted for his birthday were two pigtails and a cowlick. On July 25, a spunky 2 year old and a snuggly 5 year old, their foster family and I threw Joel a birthday party at the Chick Fila play place. A few days later they came to live with us. Joel got exactly what he wanted for his birthday.
Over the next 9 months there were biological parent visitations, court hearings and finally on April 24, 2012, the judge declared what we’d always known, that they were officially a part of our forever family!
Ours is a beautifully broken story of God being good even when He didn’t feel good and Him being completely caring and sovereign even when things seem insanely out of control…nothing different than what He is doing in the lives of all His children. And the rest is history. Truly HIS story!
Thanks so much to Kitty for sharing her story with us. She and her husband, Joel, have a fantastic website. Please visit
http://www.joelandkitty.com/ to learn more about them and read some more of her blogs.
This has been an exciting weekend for my family. On Saturday, we all piled into cars and headed to Augusta, Georgia for a celebration. Except, one member of the family knew nothing about it, and that made it all the more fun for the rest of us. The surprise was for my daughter. The occasion was her engagement to a sweet boy she has been dating.
She was very surprised, in fact, she was so surprised that she didn’t answer him when he dropped to his knee and asked her to marry him. She just cried and stood there. I finally couldn’t contain myself any longer and yelled out from our hiding place, “Say yes, Becca, say yes!”
Seriously, what would she do without her mother’s guidance and direction?
After we all hugged and kissed the newly engaged couple and each other…and a few bystanders, who appeared somewhat shocked, we all headed to a picnic shelter for some food and about 1003 more pictures.
I began texting family and friends to share the exciting news, but something went wrong. Some people only got the picture while others only got the text, which said something to the effect of, “Will have a new son June 6!” Now, if the picture had gone with the text, it would have made perfect sense. However, without the picture to bring context to the statement, the meaning of the statement took an interesting turn.
My phone began blowing up with comments like:
“And you’re ok with this?”
“I hope you are referring to a new son-in-law?”
“Are you getting senile?”
“Is that possible?”
I began texting back as quickly as I could trying to explain that I was NOT having a baby June 6, I was getting a son-in-law.
Right after that all my children gathered together for a picture… all EIGHT of them. Four of them I birthed, the other four God gave me in different ways. But make no mistake, in my heart they are all mine. Every - last - one - of them. For me, that means that the four I did not birth have the same rights and privileges as the ones I did birth. Sadly for them, there aren’t a whole lot of rights and privileges…but still, if there were, it would be theirs.
Each of those four has my heart. I see them as I see the others, a blessing from God. They are my children. I love and tend and protect them as I do the others. I have fretted over them, wept for some of them, and spent countless hours on my knees before the throne on their behalf. I have felt my heart burst with pride over them, and I have issued some maternal correction and guidance to a few of them… Who am I kidding? I have issued motherly correction and guidance to all of them because, well, it’s my job and I like telling others what to do from time to time.
You know what I realized as I reflected on my love for these four? My God loves me like I love them, only much better. I am an adopted child through faith in Jesus Christ. God chose to adopt me because it gives Him great pleasure (Ephesians 1:5).
2 Corinthians 6:18 says, "I will be a Father to you, and you will be my sons and daughters, says the Lord Almighty."
See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! (1 John 3:1)
As I look at the picture of all of them standing there, I realize that my first statement, “I will have a new son June 6,” was exactly what I meant. I am thrilled for this new son. I am overjoyed over my adopted children. And, I am most grateful for a loving Father Who found great pleasure in adopting me.
Have a wonderful week!
November is National Adoption month so I thought it would be fun to share our story. My husband and I had been discussing adoption options when my friend Bunnie and I were walking after school one day. She had gone to a baby shower the night before (for a newly adopted baby girl, Olivia), and she was talking about how beautiful and precious this baby was. Bunnie then said, “This place has the best babies, you and Catoe need to go there!” “This place” turned out to be Christian Family Services and we indeed went there! We went for our first orientation in October of 1994.
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