The Other Shoe.

     We've been waiting for the other shoe to drop since returning from Rwanda.  And guess what?  It hasn't.  That stinkin' shoe hasn't even slipped loose.
     For real.  Pinch me.  There have been countless moments when I have thought to myself "this is the best summer we have had since 2009!"  I can't tell you how many times my eyes have welled up with tears as Ryan and I sit on our red bench, watching our kids play baseball or catch fire flies.  I have not sat on the steps outside the boys' room, crying, once this summer (since '09, I would almost nightly collapse in tears next to Ryan on those stairs).  We are entering our last week of summer here...I think it's safe to say that we stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop.
     There is zero logic in our plan. Zero.  Who goes to the other side of the world to find healing for their son's hurt heart?  We haven't gone to therapy, there aren't any new supplements or theories or attachment techniques.  It's just another chapter that God has written in Etienne's life.  And I am so, so thankful for this illogical twist.
     We still have our wet beds, our crashing into everything, our general random-weird-post institution behavior.  But the dark, flat stares, the manipulating lies, the hurtful actions are nothing like what we've survived in the past.
     Part of it is that I have embraced that my E will never function  like other kids.  Don't judge-let me explain.  For example,  I know Etienne's cues these days and I'm meeting him where he's at.  If he's been out of his comfort zone, over stimulated or tired, it doesn't work to try to snuggle him or even to have him nap.  Instead, we've taken to running together.  The physical exercise helps him regulate himself as well as taking him away from the stimuli (or the grown up that is low on patience).  So when he's starting to do flips off the furniture (I'm not kidding) or laughing his high pitched tired scream, I make him run five laps around the perimeter of the house.  Corporal punishment? Nope, he likes it and we call it "preseason conditioning."
     School starts soon.  E says he could "stay in summer forever."  I'm not gonna lie; I have my own fears about him returning to sitting in a desk, in a classroom with people that don't know his heart.  I get nervous to think that the expectations of the school are going to be really, really challenging for him.  But then I go the grocery store and another mother tells me that E was always the boy that tied her son's shoes.  Or we work in the school garden and his old teacher shares how he always offered to pray for his classmates.  And I know God is using my E in that public school to bring Him glory.
      I think back to a few months ago, when we were so afraid of the aftermath of going to Africa.  And that aftermath has been the best summer of our lives: a swimming, books, ice cream, tan lines, s'mores, road trips, fire flies,  bare feet kinda summer.  It was worth it.  The last four years of feeling like we were just hanging on.  They have been worth every moment we have savored this summer.  So bring on first grade! (Gulp.)  

Partnering with Visiting Orphans

   


     Some of you may know that Ryan and I are team leaders for an organization called Visiting Orphans (VO).  This is an amazing group of people that we are proud to be a part of.  VO works to send teams into orphanages in all corners of the world with the intent to simply love on children.
     This is especially near to our hearts because we have survived 4 years post adoption with two beautiful boys that started their lives not knowing love.  Eye contact, touch and even direct conversation with my sons sent them into survival mode.  Etienne would snuggle up to any stranger on the street; oblivious to whom it may have been.  Zeke sobbed every time I looked into his eyes.  That is what a lack of love looked like.
     Visiting Orphans does not install wells.  They don't build medical clinics.  They love the least of these.  And that is messy, complicated work.  You may read or hear conversations about whether this is harmful or not: to give kids touch and attention and then to leave again.  Here's the deal.  We are at this point pretty knowledgeable on the subject of vulnerable children.  And we ask you this: what is the alternative?  To turn away?  To do nothing?
     Ryan and I will partner with VO for as long as they will take us.  We love their hearts, their mission and the direction that they allow God to lead them.  Our team from June has launched a foundation, Imana Kids, as fruit from their trip to Kimisagara.  Lives are changed.  People are moved.  God is at work.
     So read the blogs if you want.  But please know that VO trips are with leaders that are trained and knowledgeable on vulnerable children, on the culture and the people of the countries they serve and most especially on the children that often have deep wounds and attachment issues.  It is not easy work.  But it is advancing His kingdom; it's messy and beautiful and meaningful and lasting.
     Our goal for Imana Kids is that as families and individuals sponsor children, they may partner with VO to visit their sponsored child; investing long term in the life of a child.  We are open to questions, to information and even to skeptics.  In the meantime, check out this video.

Saying "yes"

     I can see it in their eyes.  The people that know our family from a distance.  Neighbors or coworkers that have maybe seen a glimpse of the state of stress that our home has (frequently) been in for the past four years.  I sense the judgement; how they believe that we are nuts when we say we have launched a foundation.
     Their questions: Why would they commit to more? Because God has blessed us with a team of resources.   Don't they need to focus on the kids that they already have? We want our kids to learn to obey God even if the world does not. What do they know about a foundation? Nothing.  But we are quick learners.
    I imagine that when Simon Peter threw aside his nets and gave up his life as a fisherman, the guys in the next boat raised their eyebrows.  Don't misread me here.  There aren't plans to quit my day job.  I am just having a new appreciation for what it feels like to say "Yes!" more loudly and bolder than we ever have before.  To not get too comfortable.
     When I was younger, I was the kid that volunteered to host the party, make the extra posters, run for the next class office.  Somewhere between there and here, I stopped saying yes to others.  It was the most liberating feeling NOT to sign up to bring cupcakes or substitute for Sunday school.  I know that is a bold statement but you have to understand that my saying yes was to please those around me.  My identity isn't in whether the rest of the moms think I have it all together.  My identity is in my maker.
     Standing at the gates of Kimisagara, I could hear God shouting at me as I watched my husband hold those sweet faces in his hands and tell them that they had a heavenly father.  I felt God tapping on my heart as my only daughter sobbed as she said goodbye to Rwanda.  And being home to some of the most calm, RAD free days in four years just makes His plan that much more clear.  Our future is with these kids.
     We have some amazing, amazing team members that are doing this with us.  Our family has given us their back yards, their time, and most importantly, their blessing.  Those that know us well-and know that God is the creator of some of the craziest story lines-are right beside us in this.  We are one blessed family to be loved like this.
     There won't be a finished basement, a weekend away or a new windshield on the van.  As Ryan reminded me, none of those are advancing the kingdom of God.  I love it that this is the man that leads my family.  And I'm not gonna lie, he's leading me where I have always hoped to be!  So yes, we are saying "yes."  Besides, Blake, E and Zeke reminded me tonight that if you say no to God, you may end up in the belly of a fish.

Updates

     Today I heard a sermon about worship that focused on Psalm 95.  Part of worship is being in awe of how big God is.  How little we are.  Maybe it's looking at the Rocky Mountains, hearing the waves of the Pacific crash onto the shore or watching your baby breathe his first breath.

     For me, I am living in awe right now.  It's like a light bulb came on in our house after all these years of having it blink on and off.  Let me explain.

     A month ago, when we were preparing to leave for Rwanda, we got a lot of questions about our trip, leaving our former orphan to return to his country, would effect him.  How he would cope and what the aftermath would look like for us.  The first of the awe was that I had zero, zero, worries about this.  I felt totally at peace and there wasn't an ounce of anxiety regarding Etienne or his brothers.  Wow, this felt good. It feels good to feel good!

     Here we are, three weeks after coming home, doing great.  DOING GREAT!!!  Our first night home, Etienne said the dinner pray.  It was eloquent and beautiful and thoughtful.  That first night, he prayed for the kids we left behind.  And since that night, he is still on board.  No lying.  No destruction.  No all nighters.  It's like God had been working Etienne up for this too.

     So I am in awe.  I am in awe that God could take all our years of struggle to shape us for this.  I am in awe that He has given Etienne a peace that only He can give.  I am in awe that us leaving the continent for many, many nights would result in....healing.  I am crying as I type that.

     That is worship.  The awe at my family and what God is doing.  Every theory, every book, every support group; none of it has had the outcome of Ryan and I returning to an orphanage in Rwanda without Etienne. That is God.  That is awe.  That is my worship.  

Goofball is a fish.  The mask is for effect only.

     Wait, there's more.

     Our foundation is taking off.  Imana Kids is the real deal.  I mean, God is moving.  Things are coming together and they aren't stressful or hard or frustrating.  Babies aren't being born while I am on call (more time to work on bylaws and such!), necessary documents are easy to find, people answer their emails, the kids get along while we write.  Who knew a college kid, a couple of teachers and a midwife could figure out a non-profit?  We have 4 kick-off parties with a goal of $10,000 by Labor Day.  It's big.  God is bigger.  That's awe.  It's worship; my life is worship.

     

We'd Like to Share....

   

Welcome to Kimisagara. Watch your step.

Because of this compassion.

Because of Anasis.

Because my husband's heart broke.  And mine was already in pieces for Ismail.

Because of my boys.

     It became very clear during our time at Kimisagara that God had big plans for us.  For once, I didn't have words.  I couldn't write and I couldn't put my finger on it.  Ryan had a full heart and a much more clear vision for what work needed to be done.
     Dieudonne and I agreed that we would wait one week.  During that week we would pray and we would listen to God for direction.  That was Thursday.  By Saturday morning (7AM, we were still on East Africa time), he was texting me about the kids.  Here we are, a week later.  This is what we've got.

IMANA KIDS FOUNDATION.
   We have a name.  A 501c3 submitted.  3 conference calls, a lot of cell phone minutes and an inbox full of God screaming "YES!THIS IS WHAT YOU NEED TO DO!" in the form of agencies, partners, mentors and people that know more than us.  We also have our team.  Dieudonne, Kayla, Ryan and I spent today getting coached by His Chase .  We are ready to share our mission:

1. That every child of Kimisagara Orphanage shall know that they are a child of God (1 John 1:3)
2. Every child of Kimisagara will receive the best education for them.
3. That basic needs including clean water, food and shelter are met.

     What makes us different then every other non-profit?  It isn't us that is different.  It's Peter, Claude, Ismail, Issa and Gloria.  It's how Inasis stopped kicking around a ball to pick up a crying toddler.  It's about how these kids can sit on their dirt play space and overlook the world; hearing and seeing the schools and homes and safety that is all out of reach.  And yet they wrote this:

   To be honest, we are overwhelmed but incredibly encouraged and confident.  The plan is written and it's big.  Our goal is to have every child over the age of 10 sponsored and in a boarding school by the first week of January (when the new school year and term start).  Sponsors will have the option to visit their child each summer with Ryan and me.  We also plan to have an option for those that have excelled academically and socially to participate in an exchange student program here in Council Bluffs.  Ryan's school has been DHS approved and the initial I-20 documents are ready.  Room for more, right?
   It's a lot.  It's going to require some launch parties, some return travel to Rwanda, a lot of prayer and a ton of support from our community.  Kayla, D, Ryan and I are confident that our community is big.  We are the body of Christ and we are commanded to do this.  So let's go.
PS  Website up soon.  Invites in the works.

Stateside

     I couldn't write in Rwanda.  I didn't have the words and I couldn't put my finger on what was going on.  I could share a lot of stories, pictures and feelings with you but it would not be enough.

     All I can do now is share that this is where Ryan and I met our future.  I can see clearly that God has been leading us here all along.
     The years of struggling to know how to love without restrain our Rwandan sons.  It was all for this.  Kimisagara is filled full of boys and young men.  The ones too big to hold and too grown up to tickle.  I was overwhelmed by the need to love them.  And even more overwhelmed that He has put that same urgency to do this in the heart of my husband and my D.
     What's really amazing is how God has orchestrated all this.  Let me tell you first about my D.  Dieudonne is a college kid in Omaha.  My brother introduced him to me years ago, when he was 18, because he thought maybe at the time he wanted a career in healthcare.  Dieudonne ended up at college near us, so we often would pick him up from the dorms and bring him to our small group for dinner.  I need to mention that D is a Burundian refugee and his story is his to share.  But obviously, he looks like some of my children, he is a great role model for all of them and his history overlaps with Rwanda's.  Last year, when we decided to lead this trip, we invited Dieudonne over.  When he said he wanted to go, we felt like he absolutely, positively had to be on our team.  He could interpret for us.  He could be an example and relate to these children more than anyone else, maybe ever.  And it would be an opportunity for him to return to his home (or close to it).  There were hurdles like crazy to get him back to Africa.  God opened windows when doors shut, He moved mountains and He cleared a path.  Dieudonne's presence in Kimisagara has been priceless.
     Midway through our time in Kimisagara, Dieudonne and I began talking about how every one of the older kids and men wanted to be in school.  We started asking about the cost.  We made a plan.  Our team began taking portraits of every single child and young adult in the orphanage.  We went back to our guest house and did this.

    With the help of all our team and the staff at the guest house, we created a spread sheet and gave every face a number.  Then we went back.
     Dieudonne and I sat on a stone ledge over a cliff in a hallway.  And we started to ask questions.  We wanted to get every face a name and a story.  It was hard.  Really hard.  But that is a story for another day.  What happened when we asked these questions was that this place became holy.  I took off my shoes as I listened.  Sometimes I would look at my D and he would say, "Did you expect this to be different?"  and we would continue on.  It felt like the most important thing I have ever done.

They stayed near us even after we finished.  Every now and then, Dieudonne would strum his guitar.

     We are spending this time now praying and waiting on God.  Next week, we will begin to write the stories out.  And we both know that our path is together, following God, in the future with these children.
     Then there is this man that I married.  I know we both assumed that he would be the man in charge of the money, keeping to schedule and generally balancing me out.  What we didn't expect was for God to shift Ryan's heart parallel to mine in so many more ways.  "Don't tell Kara, but this place does kinda feel like home," was his FB status when we landed in Rwanda.  He loved without restraint.  He found those children that stayed back, the ones with the downcast eyes in the shadows. He held their faces so that he could look in their eyes and he told them that they were loved by God and that they mattered to us.  At night, he knew when to comfort the team and when to challenge them.  He cried. A lot.  And he promised them that he would be back soon.  Ryan was he first person to enter Kimisagara and he was the last person to leave.    He has also informed me that he's ordering "How to Speak Kinyarwandan" on Amazon.  And he is always, always a man of his word.

Speaking truth to the fatherless. This is God's hands and feet.

     My boys at home didn't miss me at all; an answered prayer.  They did great.  We came home to them asking us what we were going to do next in Rwanda.  They just got it.  To us, this is more evidence that we are headed exactly where God wants us to be.  Remember, I am the mama that previously had drama filled weeks following a just a change in her work schedule.  This is big.  This is God.

     Our team included my parents.  To see their hearts break and to watch the physical and emotional stress that they endured humbled me so much.  Having my mom and dad love the least of these in Rwanda gives me confidence to carry on down this uncertain path.  It comforts me to know that they can truly understand why we feel called to this place.

     The rest of our team, I previously called it a band of misfits.  We could not have created a more mismatched-yet perfectly placed-group of people.  Each person had heart to give. No one hesitated, not once, despite conditions worse than anyone should ever live in.  They were beyond great.
     There aren't any words to describe Kimisagara. It is set apart from every other orphanage in that is it physically one of the most unsafe spaces I have visited but it also is the most love filled.  I saw God in the big kids that carried the little ones on their backs.  I felt love in the joyous singing that spontaneously erupted.  I witnessed young men, orphaned their whole lives, snuggle babies just because they could.  Not only that, but women began to trickle in, telling Dieudonne and me that this place welcomed them when their husband's left, when no one else would.
     That's why I took off my shoes.  Holy ground.  True religion.  Widows and orphans in their distress.  

This is my favorite.  My sons were never held like this.  And the walls above them didn't have this beauty.

   

Away We Go

   Tomorrrow Ryan, Molly and I head to Rwanda.  We are so blessed to have the opportunity to take loved ones with us.  Our time isn't long but every minute has been given a lot of thought and we are there with one intention: to love on kids who will probably never have an earthly family.

    A lot of people don't get it.  

• "So you aren't, like, building a school or something?"  Nope, no building. No medical work.  Our job is to hold children that never get held.  Listen to kids that have something to say.  Pray for the mostly forgotten and forsaken. 
• "It seems like that would just hurt those kids to give them attention and then leave them"  My scientific method, backed by years and years of research in child development, tells us that infants that get skin-to-skin contact for just an hour are healthier than children who aren't.  There is no price to place on giving a child touch.  The alternative, ignoring the 210 million orphans is worse.
• "Don't you just want to take one home?"  Ugh.  This comment is the worst.  I know when people say this, they mean "it is so sad and if I saw that I would want to do more." So do more.  But don't consider children a souvenir or an accessory.

     While we are gone, we honestly have no worries regarding the boys.  They will be loved well (really, really well) by their Uncle Andy and Katie, then their Nana and Pops.  Dressing the crew is tricky, so I have labeled each boy for each day that we aren't here.  There are love notes stuck inside their underpants (I know boy humor), there are treats and fun activities and casseroles in the freezer.  I have been praying diligently for over a year that they don't miss us much while we are gone, that Etienne's heart will be confident in us, that our family here will have patience, strength and energy for My 3 Sons.  Truthfully, most of the time I feel like it's a Blake-E-Zeke world and the rest of us are sometimes invited in.  That is God's grace that we aren't worried about anything stateside.

     That being said, we covet your prayers!  Prayers that everyone stays safe and healthy, that Andy and Katie, Nana and Pops all have fun with little frustration. Prayers for good sleep for everyone. Prayers that Blake, E and Ezekiel just continue to hold onto each other (wrestling to the ground while doing so, I'm sure). Prayers that Ryan and I lead our team well,  both physically and spiritually.  

     Whew. This is crazy.  After all these years, it seems that we thrive on crazy.