Start an Adoption Fund at your Church

Today there are currently more than 143 million orphaned and vulnerable children in our world. In some ways, it seems like a drop in the bucket when compared to a world population of nearly 6.8 billion. But it isn’t a drop in anything to those children who need a home, a meal, a family to love. Churches across the US recently commemorated Orphan Sunday, in part to acknowledge the crisis, but also to touch the hearts of the Body of Christ and compel them to action.

My church, Zionsville Fellowship, is blessed to have an orphan ministry. And we are thrilled to have nearly 40 adoption stories in our 30 year history. (And those are just the stories we know about!) There are many more families who wait to bring a child into their forever family. It is the Lord who reminds us throughout Scripture that we are a people called to defend the fatherless. And there are numerous ways to care for the orphaned child in addition to adoption. One such way is to walk alongside those families who are on the journey called adoption.

The biggest obstacle for many families who seek to adopt a child is, arguably, financial. Our orphan ministry has partnered with LifeSong for Orphans in an effort to establish an adoption fund and help our members overcome that obstacle. It is the mission of LifeSong for Orphans to bring joy and purpose to orphans. They do that by “mobilizing the church where each member can provide a unique and special service; some to adopt, some to care, some to give.” LifeSong provides adoption loans and grants for those who are called to adopt.

Churches can begin their own adoption grant and/or loan program to help members meet the financial commitment that comes with adoption. Partnering with an organization such as LifeSong for Orphans can take the doubt and fear out of the entire process. For a church staff that already has a full plate, LifeSong will manage/facilitate the adoption fund and carry the administrative load on behalf of the church. For churches that feel uncomfortable or awkward approving or denying their own families (including viewing personal information such as financial documents), LifeSong will provide all the screening, reviewing, and approving/denying as a partner on behalf of the church. For those who feel an adoption fund is simply unfamiliar territory, LifeSong has a passion and expertise in this area. Their knowledge and experience establishes financial integrity and avoids recreating the wheel.

LifeSong for Orphans will create a customized adoption fund to fit the needs of every church. Best of all, there is no cost to the church!

It just doesn’t get any easier than that!

If this sounds like a commercial for LifeSong for Orphans, then so be it. The purpose isn’t to advertise on behalf of one organization. I just happen to know and trust this one. The point is to challenge believers, especially pastors, as we know that the church is the only institution large enough – and the only institution called to deal with this issue.

Consider the aid offered by LifeSong or go somewhere else. Just do something. One-hundred-forty-three million children are counting on it.

LifeSong for Orphans

The Grace That is Sufficient

Today we’re switching gears. Today’s post won’t focus on the Canadian Tenors or Voices for Bulembu, although those things are still on my mind and there is still much work to be done. But this is the time of year where my thoughts typically turn to memories I would rather not have.

This is the time of year where images and sounds and unsavory odors return to haunt me and remind me of an incident that is seared into my brain. This is the time of year when I start to look skyward and watch airplanes as they make their landing approach like a mother watching from the front stoop of her home to make sure her children make it safely off the school bus at the end of the day. This is the time of year when I start to think of the men and women who wear blue to serve and protect or run toward a fire instead of away from it just to save one more life.

This is also the time of year when overwhelming grief and sadness envelop me like a giant wave crashing against the shore. I can see it coming every year but it still takes me by surprise. Every year it takes longer for the wave to reach the shoreline, and I’m thankful for that. There was a time when the darkness and depth of the waters that surrounded me lasted year-round. But with time, I found my way to the top, then to the shore, then to the beach.

Perhaps the grief is my homage to those who died on 9/11. Perhaps it is my penance for not having done enough to help. This year it feels like punishment because I have found new healing although not entirely complete. So many others wear permanent scars from what they experienced that day. I suppose I do too but they are buried deep within. No one sees them and for that reason, they assume things – incorrectly, I might add.

Despite the many blessings in my life, I will carry this great sadness with me until 9/12. That’s just the way it’s been for these last nine years. I wish it could be different but I don’t know how to change it. I still think of that day throughout the year but as the anniversary draws near, every year my grief becomes a casket of nearly 3,000 souls I wear around my neck. And the memories are as fresh as if I were living it all over again, every single day.

This morning, I read these words from 2 Corinthians 12:9: “My grace is sufficient for you.”

How often do we pray, “Lord, make your grace sufficient for me”? But He says, “How dare you ask me when I have already said it is so!” A quote from a devotional I read on this topic this morning: “The Lord says it in the simplest way: ‘My grace is [not will be or may be] sufficient for you.’”

Get up and believe it to be true in your life. I am doing the same even in these darkest hours. The grace that is sufficient is indeed sufficient.

Voices for Bulembu: A Conversation with Remigio Pereira

Everyone has an outlook on life; you’re either a glass is half full or glass is half empty-type of person. After spending some time with the Canadian Tenors, I can say without pause that Remigio Pereira, Victor Micallef, Clifton Murray and Fraser Walters are glass half full people. As I have reflected on the conversations I had with the Tenors about their experiences in Bulembu (past and future), I keep coming back to two words: joy and hope.

One of the first things Remigio made clear to me in our conversation is that nothing can outweigh the strife and pain the children of Bulembu have seen in just their first two weeks of life; strife and pain that seems to never cease. Each of them made it clear that they never want to diminish the hardships and challenges these citizens face and the resulting impact on their own hearts.

“A lot of people see it on television or read about it in the paper,” explained Remigio, “but it doesn’t have the same effect as when you go there. It isn’t the same as when you’re talking with someone who is dying and his whole family and extended family has been wiped out, and you’re the only one left to carry on the name or to meet a woman who has been raped countless times or to see women who walk for miles to get medicine for themselves or their children. You think what do these people have?”

What they have – and what the Tenors made sure to stress – is hope and joy.

Remigio pointed out that, “With the right resources, with the right capital, and with loving hearts, anything can be accomplished.”

Perhaps it is the indelible spirit of the people they have met that enables the Tenors to see beyond the pain and suffering to the hope and joy that really does exist. Perhaps the citizens of Bulembu live with such hope and joy because they just don’t know any better because they haven’t yet been presented with the right resources, capital or loving hearts. But we know better. And that’s what stirs these young men to make a difference.

“I have things I want to do,” said Remigio. “It opened up new goals for me on a humanitarian level.”

He spoke of the natural talent of a group of orphans he got to meet on his first visit and how, given the opportunity, “these kids could realize a dream, that a lot can be accomplished, and the restraints of their condition don’t allow for a boundary for their dreams to come true.”

He spoke of wanting to give them the same chances that are afforded to kids in wealthier nations: dance camp, a guitar instructor, traveling beyond their own borders to experience the possibilities.

There is much work to be done if these children are to be given such opportunities. The vision of the Bulembu Foundation aims to raise up the next generation of leaders who can take this town and country to greater heights and prosperity, giving new generations the hope of a future. Perhaps the work starts at home within our own hearts, as it did for Remigio and his musical brothers.

“No matter what happens in your life, you can still find a smile in something,” Remigio reflected. “That is the biggest lesson. It could be raining and gloomy down where we are, but then you take a plane up and there’s sunshine all the time. It’s what you delete out of your life, what you don’t see is what you should actually look for.”

The 2000 orphans of Bulembu are counting on the loving hearts of people who have resources to make a difference. The Tenors will be visiting Bulembu again in August and will hold their fundraising event, Voices for Bulembu: A Legacy Weekend at Mission Hill, featuring their cornerstone concert at the Chan Centre for Performing Arts in September. (Click on the link for dates and ticket information) In the meantime, please consider donating on behalf of the Canadian Tenors by visiting the Bulembu reSTORE donation catalog. (Clicking on the banner below will take you directly to the Bulembu secure online donation catalog.)

Voices for Bulembu: A Conversation with Fraser Walters

What do you want for your birthday? A new car? An iPOD? Want to celebrate with a big party and lots of friends; indulging in cake, ice cream and whatever else is your fancy? These are the images we conjure when we in the western world think of birthday celebrations.

Two years ago, Fraser Walters of the Canadian Tenors, had what could arguably be one of his best birthdays yet. And it was also one of the most emotionally challenging for him. Fraser marked the occasion of his birth in Bulembu, Swaziland with fellow Tenors, Remigio Pereira, Victor Micallef, former member, Jamie McKnight, and the children of the local orphanage. (Current member, Clifton Murray, will make his first visit to Bulembu when the Tenors return there in August.)

“I couldn’t imagine a better (birthday) gift than to sit there for several hours with these kids,” he said of the occasion.

And sit there for a few hours is exactly what he did, bouncing children on his lap, playing guitar and singing with them. It’s that experience that has brought new meaning to birthdays for him since he made his first visit to the town the Tenors have vowed to help transform.

Bulembu has been ravaged by massive unemployment since 2001 when the main employer left town. Add to that the highest prevalence of AIDS in the world, and you’ve got the makings of devastation beyond measure; devastation the Tenors saw firsthand.

When I visited with the Tenors a couple of weeks ago, I asked Fraser what his most joyful and painful experiences were while in Bulembu. He reflected that both occurred on the same day, which happened to be his birthday.

“You sort of cycle through what it means to have a birthday, and what we usually associate with that,” he said. “You see the full spectrum of what they have, which is literally nothing in terms of materialistic things or even family structure. But they have an incredible amount of joy.”

Seeing the joy that emanates from the community and family that remains is what helped Fraser put things in perspective. He told me of some boys who had a small bag of dirt tied together with a string.

“They were throwing that thing around (as a toy) all day,” he said with a pensive smile. “They were taking pleasure in the small things. Seeing that, you learn to not take anything for granted.”

While every day had its own inspiration, it also had its own heartbreak. There was a dramatic contradiction of expression that flowed from Fraser as he admitted to an emotional journey during his time there. His eyes reflected the ache he clearly feels over the conditions the citizens of Bulembu wake up to daily. While he is always mindful of what they are going through, his face lit up when he told me about the time he spent with the children, including the concert where they performed with a children’s choir.

His biggest smile came when he spoke of a surprise they received during the show.

“We had this impromptu intermission where the women came to us in their traditional garb and asked if they could do a dance for us,” he said, beaming. “While they were doing their dance, some men in the back of the room went to their homesteads and gathered their traditional garb. They came back and danced for us when the women finished. It was mind-blowing! Those types of experiences are just incredible.”

Fraser insists the power of music is what helped break down barriers and allowed for the unplanned entertainment, adding that each of the Tenors believe in the idea of giving back one way or another.

“Music, for me, has always been a medium to share on a greater level,” he said. “We’re just realizing those dreams, collectively, as we go.”

Perhaps that’s why it seems apropos that the Canadian Tenors sing “Instrument of Peace”, for that is their mission. Conflicted in the ongoing struggle they know the people of Bulembu cannot escape yet, but confident in raising their voices to bring the hope of a future; one of healing, prosperity and peace.

Join us on Monday when we have a conversation with Remigio Pereira. In the meantime, please click on the banner to learn how you can Raise YOUR Voice for Bulembu on behalf of the Canadian Tenors.

Post Op Observations: I’m Must Be Doing It Wrong

As if recovering from surgery isn’t challenging enough. Now I have people insisting that I’m in a grieving phase because I can’t have children anymore.

Practically everyone I talk to about my hysterectomy automatically goes there. “Oh, it must be hard accepting that you’ll never get pregnant.”

Well, actually, no. It’s not hard knowing I’ll never get pregnant. I have never been pregnant, and I will never be pregnant. And I’m good with that!

I have never been the type of woman who desperately wanted to feel a baby kick them while it is in utero. I have never been one who longed to go through all the beautiful – and yes, sometimes disgusting – things that go with being pregnant. I’m thrilled for other women who get to experience it, especially if it’s a pleasurable time for them. I’m always more than excited when a friend announces she’s pregnant. I love seeing God’s little creations and watching them grow up. I just never wanted to push one of those little creations out of my own body.

Is that so wrong? Kurt and I had already decided that I wasn’t going to get pregnant. Ok, well, maybe I really decided I wasn’t going to get pregnant, and he just had to go along with it. I think he finally understood that my body wouldn’t be able to handle having another living being inside of it. Chances are, I wouldn’t have been able to get pregnant anyway considering all the issues I had. So, I really think the grieving people are trying to force on me is past tense.

There were times I thought I wanted to be pregnant. But then reality enveloped my daydream, and I got over it. So, if I never wanted it to begin with, why would I be grieving? I reconciled this issue a long time ago.

Perhaps it is my husband who is grieving… and simply isn’t telling me. (Honey, if you’re reading this, let me know if you want to talk!)

But the bottom line is this: If God wants us to have children, He’ll provide through adoption. If not, then we can live vicariously through the lives of our friends and family. It’s great that people are concerned for my emotional well being. But please, I’m not doing it wrong.