The Hummingbird

School is out.

I won't lie. I was kind of dreading it, but so far so good.

I just love to see my kids bonding over freedom. I believe in raising free-range children. So they play and play. And I figure if anything major happens I will hear the sirens.

Last week the kids went to VBS at the church down the street. It was really nice and Daniel was totally geeked about it. It is handy that he is in class with his sister, because she tells it how it is.

ALL the kids also spent the night at Grandma's last week on Wednesday. It was the first night that Daniel has been away from me. It was a success! Yippee! And he learned that he loves blueberry pancakes in the bargain! You CANNOT even imagine how FREEING it is to know that he can spend the night away and do well.

On Saturday we had the opportunity to go to a local minor league baseball game. I was really concerned how all the kids would be with the game starting at 7:05 and knowing that we wouldn't get home until after 11:00. I had major doubts about how well Daniel would sit. But, OH MY GOODNESS, he was enthralled! 

He stood at attention during the national anthem and saluted the flag.

He saw a man selling cotton candy and it triggered a tale about how once he went to camp and got cotton candy and watched a movie. Obviously a very fond memory. I wouldn't have even thought about cotton candy being an experience to share with him, because I think that it is vile.

Later on during the game, he turned to me and told me a very disturbing event that happened at the detskiy dom. Something that if you witnessed, would scar you for life. And just the knowing that this is one event of many. Sometimes I forget. Sometimes I just look at the smile and forget that he comes from a life that I cannot imagine. And I just expect him to fit in and perform. Which he does, but sometimes he can't. And I need to have more patience and understanding about that.

At the end of the evening there was a fireworks display. He was totally blissed out.

I can't even think of how very thankful I am that he is not in Slavy'ansk or those booms from the fireworks could have had a whole other connotation for him. The children in his orphanage have been evacuated. (Update June 2014: I have since learned that they were not evacuated, other orphanages were, but Topolyok was not.) Pray for them. Things are not good at all in Slavy'ansk. Roads are blocked. No power. No electricity. No running water. People are starving. 

I can't tell you how it breaks my heart that his home, orphanage that it was, is gone. That there will be no visits back, as an adult, to see where he came from. To know that that door is irrevocably closed.

The picture below is a photo that was shot from the church that we were a part of during our time in Slavy'ansk. It was taken in late May.

Many of our friends have left town, but many others do not have the transportation, the money, or anywhere else to go.

According to reports, the Orthodox monastery (pictured below) in the neighboring town of Svatagorsk (I probably totally butchered that) is sheltering around 700 refugees. They are sleeping anywhere from 3-7 to a room and receiving one meal a day. The government has no money to care for the refugees and so they are dependent on the generosity of others and of churches for their livelihood in this season of exile.

One year ago, today, we landed in Kiev. So much has happened. Both in Ukraine and in our family. And through it all I can see God's hand and timing and care. The God who called us to this adventure, who told us over and over again to "run" is still every bit as much here as He ever was; mending brokenness, calling us to love our neighbors, expanding our view of who our neighbor is.

I love who God is making us through our journey. Who He is shaping our children into. There have been countless moments of doubt and I think that sometimes it is easy to only present the pretty side. I have always tried to be open about our struggles so that others might have an honest view of what it is like, but sometimes there just aren't words.

There are not words for the fear I felt at our referral meeting with Daniel. He couldn't count to ten. He couldn't write his name. He couldn't draw a circle. We saw him for ten minutes and were asked whether we wanted him or not.

There are NO WORDS for how that feels. That a life hangs in the balance of a one word answer. That the universe can shift with a simple 'yes' or 'no'.

There also aren't words for the thrill I have when he has successes. When I see the easy way that my children have bonded and love each other.

There are NO WORDS to describe how it felt to walk into my mother's house after Daniel had his first overnight and hear that he slept well. And that he was happy. That my little bird is stretching his wings and learning the right kind of independence.

There are NO WORDS to tell how it feels to know that he is loved by others. For who he is. Not because people feel sorry for him or that he is a novelty, but rather because he is a cool kid with talents and worth and capital "P" personality.

We may not be the most equipped family on our own, but we have a wonderful community and a wonderful Daddy God. And we do the best we can. 

{Here is the transcript of the video:

The story of the hummingbird as told by Wangari Maathai to children

We are constantly being bombarded by problems that we face and sometimes we can get completely overwhelmed.

The story of the hummingbird is about this huge forest being consumed by a fire. All the animals in the forest come out and they are transfixed as they watch the forest burning and they feel very overwhelmed, very powerless, except this little hummingbird. It says, ‘I’m going to do something about the fire!’
So it flies to the nearest stream and takes a drop of water. It puts it on the fire, and goes up and down, up and down, up and down, as fast as it can. In the meantime all the other animals, much bigger animals like the elephant with a big trunk that could bring much more water, they are standing there helpless.
And they are saying to the hummingbird, ‘What do you think you can do? You are too little. This fire is too big. Your wings are too little and your beak is so small that you can only bring a small drop of water at a time.’
But as they continue to discourage it, it turns to them without wasting any time and it tells them
‘I am doing the best I can.’

And that to me is what all of us should do. We should always be like a hummingbird. I may be insignificant, but I certainly don't want to be like the animals watching the planet goes down the drain. I will be a hummingbird, I will do the best I can. }