Ummm...wow...it's already been a YEAR??

I have so very much to catch everyone up on...but first I have to selfishly take this moment to pour out my heart, soul, and thoughts into the only place I could think of.

In true Granolachic fashion, I will begin somewhere, wind around to I'm-not-sure-where, and pray that it all ends nicely to anywhere He leads.

A passion for the fatherless began growing in my heart around the age of 4.  I have written previously of my prayers as a child, the innocent ones, begging the only-Father-I-knew to bring me a doll, and my Daddy, and for all the little children scared or sad to feel His hugs.

You don't out-grow that kind of passion...it out-grows you.

The problem is this passion grows from the intense understanding of pain, destruction, and fear.  It grows from survival.  It grows from an eclipsing desire to stand in front of any other child ever experiencing these unfair realities unleashed on them unexpectedly...their unjust reward for blind love and trust.  

I warned him, my Hero.  He asked the questions no other cared to ask before.  He climbed the walls no other dared to climb over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over again...seven times seventy...this amazing boy-man God shoved into my dreams, heart, and life.

I warned him again years later as I read a book that forever challenged my comfort:  Revolution in World Missions.  He grinned as he listened to me patiently explain to him how overly blessed we were (at this point I still didn't even understand my INTENSE fear of comfort...but this was a different kind of comfort I was fearing...this was "happiness" and "security" and "love").  But the seeds were planted...I wanted more...and by more I meant having less.

Can we adopt?

I bet my Hero has said, "no", "No", "NO", "maybe", "NO!", "maybe", "scale of 1 to 10...2", "there's no way", "how?", "WHY?", "maybe", "HELL NO", "scale of 1 to 10...6", and so on and so forth more times  and in more ways during our last twelve years together than I can recount.

But it won't go away.  This burning desire to be more, do more, help more. 

And then I read other books.  These books make it all seem so clear.  So simple.  Why on EARTH do we have so many exploited, starving, abandoned children on our hands???  Why isn't every single Jesus-loving-family doing something about this?

At the very least, why aren't we on our FACES before our CREATOR begging for change.

At the very most, why am I not on MY face begging MY creator for change. 

If I cannot even commit to their daily prayer, how less committed would I be to their daily care?

It must start with a heart change.

Which God has actually been working on for several years.  It's just taken several more for me to see it...it goes back to my motivation and fear of comfort.

Before I was afraid of comfort because I was terrified to open that very tightly sealed inner place in my heart...the one with the hideously ugly scar...the place that felt like it was protected...safe...secure.  God led me full circle in such a tender (though painful) journey that slowly pealed back years and years of scar tissue.  Suddenly, I wasn't that little girl rejecting happiness and love because I was afraid it would only be ripped away in punishment...I was a confident Woman, Mother, Wife...prepared to acknowledge that God does promise Good...even to Me...and out of complete and total surrender to Him...I was to surrender my fear of comfort...and to trust my Hero...believe that He was apart of the Good that God had Promised to Me.

I do still check to make sure my children are breathing and haven't died of SIDS (they are 7 & 8) during my final walk through their rooms each night (some fears are harder to surrender than others), and I always pause to take a last day's breath of Complete-and-Total-Humbled-Thankfulness of Him and His Merciful Blessings in my life.

But tonight as I read Kisses from Katie's book, I finally realized what it was that has been gnawing on me.  I am still afraid of Comfort.  But this time, by the Grace of God, it is not the wrong kind of comfort, rather it's the comfort of this world, my lifestyle, my excess...I still want less.

Yet, I want more for my family.  I always have, and it's not the kind of desires that are born of my own heart.  My heart is selfish, self-serving, and inconsistent.  These are desires that can only be born of Him.  I don't know what our future holds.  But I do know that for the first time in my life, I am praying from the redeemed, the restored, and the rejoicing inner-most-part of my heart.  The only fear that is left is the fear that I'll fail to express His Love and His Mercy to His People...but by His Grace...I believe...that He will use my family.

I texted my Hero the other day.  It read:  FYI, I don't know how, when, or whom...but I KNOW in my heart of hearts that there is a child out there...picked by God...for our family.

Tonight, I stand by that knowledge.  But I am not sure it will play out the way I've always thought it would.  I have no idea what He has planned.  I only know that I am ready to fall on my knees daily in search of that answer and hope that He will give my Hero a like mind, heart, and passion.

I share this mainly because I desperately needed to organize my thoughts, but I also would love to have your prayers...not just for my family that we would seek His Will but also that your hearts would be pricked.  That we would all offer up a daily, inward, outward, pleading and collective cry for the lost, the abandoned, the hurting, and the least of these.