When You Know You Aren't Called

I watched him as he focused so intently on those little circles on the page. His little hand moving slowly but surely.

It felt surreal. This is the same boy who I had little hope for. The one I wrote about just last year and the emptiness in his eyes. And yet here he was, in his little red “House Grace” shirt with a pencil in hand and dedication in his mind.

“How can this be?” I thought to myself. “How is it that God would allow us to do this thing? How is it that He would let us be a part of loving the least of these in this way?”

I remember vividly the conversation that I had with Richard when we began seeing so many needs for these littles running barefoot and wild in the streets every day. Back when they filled our living room every morning and we filled their bellies with eggs and bread and hugged them tight. Richard and I sat together and life was lonely and heavy and doors had already started closing to our aviation dreams and we were wondering what our role was here in the place after all. And I told him that these kids needed a safe place.

“We weren’t called to start a children’s home,” he said. And I knew that was true. After all, {confession} I mostly didn’t even like being around kids that weren’t my own.

And yet, there was still something. The weeks passed and still this lingering thing that there was something brewing in our hearts for these kids and while we weren’t called to run a children’s home, maybe we were in fact called to build one. To facilitate. To empower.

My mind wandered even further back. Back before we moved on the street that changed our lives. Before we saw these sweet faces and met Rosa and our life was forever altered. I was sitting in the kitchen of another missionary. We had only lived in Benjamin Constant for maybe two weeks and we had yet to look for a house. They had taken us in for the time being and were orienting us on the small town we now unexpectedly called home.

“There are a lot of abandoned kids here,” he told me. “Parents abuse or neglect their kids, but there is no where for them to go. No safe house or orphanage. If fact, there is a surprising high number considering it’s such a small town.”

“Listen up,” I remember distinctly hearing the Holy Spirit whisper to my heart.

It was almost audible. I think I may have even had a look of confusion on my face when I thought, “How in the WORLD does this apply to ME?”

He went on about this need and I listened. And something was nagging at my heart, telling me to remember this conversation.

And now, over three years later, I sit with a little boy as he practices writing letters for the first time. A boy who refuses to go to school and his mom doesn’t care if he eats or has clothes or studies. But here he is. At Grace House under Rosa’s daily care being loved and told that Jesus loves him. That He died for him. That there is hope for him.

I glanced up when I heard a boy call out, “Chico!” Chico looked up and three boys walked by laughing at him.

Chico hung his head and stopped writing.

“Hey, you’re doing great! I’m so proud of you. Look at this “o”! You’re really learning a lot,” I spoke truth over him.  I smiled at him. “You’ve got this.”

He sat up, just a little, and started writing again. He finished moments later and looked up at me with the sweetest grin to show me his work.

“Incredible.”

He scurried off to play and my heart swelled. There is Hope in this place. Hope for Chico and his big sister whose story would break your heart to pieces. There is Hope for every one of the forty plus kids that come through these doors every day. Jesus loves these kids and He has plans for their futures and we get to play a small part.

I know what that feels like, that moment when your peers laugh. They see what you’re doing and they scoff, “They don’t know what their doing! This thing can’t make it. They’re unqualified. They don’t know what they want. They need {insert whatever here that they seem to know that we don’t}.”

Sometimes it makes me want to do just like Chico, hang my head and stop for a while. Maybe they’re right. Maybe this whole thing will crumble apart. Can we really impact an entire town by reaching a few kids? Can we really overcome evil with good?

But the Holy Spirit whispers, “Hey, you’re doing great! I’m with you! This is My work. You get to be a part. Believe Me. You’ve got this because I’ve got you. You were called to this.”

So we put our hands back to the plow and we trust that He who is in us is greater than He who is in the world. And I see Richard, now so passionate about something we were "not called to do". And we know that He did call us to this, even if it was never in our pretty, laid-out plans. His ways are so much higher than our own. He has a purpose and even if we only reach one, that’s enough.

Join us. Join us as we love the least of these. Pray for their souls to know Christ. Pray for Rosa to have strength to endure the trials and faith to carry on, despite opposition. Pray for these volunteers that sacrifice their time and resources every week to love these kids and show them there is Hope and His name is Jesus. Pray for the kids’ lives to be impacted. Pray for the parents’ lives to be impacted. Pray for funds to come in. Pray for the Spirit to open hearts and eyes to the needs here so that they sacrifice and give.

Pray. Give. Believe with us that this little home can make a huge difference for His Kingdom, right here.

Six Things Not to Say to an Adoptive Parent

I recently posted a blog that I have been working on for some time. It took me a while to write it because I wanted to be sure it accurately conveyed my heart but was honest about something that it seems is lacking in the adoption community. I wrote it knowing that I was opening myself up for criticism, but I felt like God was prompting me to post it so I held my breath and hit “Post”.

And I’m so glad I did.

Because turns out there are a lot of families out there walking this path and when I posted it, it was like I came upon an oasis in this desert land. A place where other families were drinking deep from the Living Water who is our strength on this journey and for those without strength to kneel down, they brought a cup to them and said, “Here. This will give you hope”. Within a week I got dozens of e-mails of people sharing their stories of struggle and hope and faith and joy and tears and questions about their precious and dearly loved adopted children who are struggling for various reasons. Some on the brink of giving up. Others who have been fighting this battle much longer than me. Others with victories to share.

So many moms and dads commented and wrote me saying, “We are together in this! God is faithful! Stay strong!” Wow, what a blessing for the Body of Christ to step up and without judgement say words of hope and healing. I was left crying and praising and praying many times throughout the week. So humbling.

“Anxiety in a man’s heart weighs it down, but a good word cheers it up.” Proverb 12.25

Aaaannnndddd I also got several not-so-nice comments, too. Which is fine! God used those to help me see the full spectrum of this thing. So many people DON’T understand the trails that the special needs of a child can bring a family. Honestly, if I hadn’t experienced this trial myself, I would probably be pretty critical and skeptical, too.

And it led me to this post. Here are six things that I can say, at least for myself as an adoptive parent, that we don’t need to hear:

What Not to Say: “You need parenting classes.”

This one was sort of random to me, but I thought I would mention it because, let’s be honest, that’s rarely a nice to say to someone. I know there are “parenting classes” out there and fantastic ministries that focus on the challenges and joys of parenting. And don’t we all need tips and advice on how to navigate these parenting waters?? The truth is it can be a doozy no matter your child’s bloodline! I know I personally read blogs often about parenting and they are many times convicting and enlightening, challenging and encouraging as my husband and I strive to raise our kids to know and love the Lord. Buuuuuut when someone is sharing a parenting trial and reaching out for community, they likely know already that they don’t have all the answers. If they did, they wouldn’t be posting, right?

A Better Thing To Say: “Here are some things that have worked for our family.”

If you genuinely feel that someone needs some help in their parenting techniques or approaches, it would be more productive to offer up what has worked for your family. Maybe it would work for theirs as well. Or, maybe just recognize that they have weaknesses and need some encouraging words.

“There is one who speaks rashly, like a piercing sword; but the tongue of the wise brings healing.” Proverbs 12.18

What Not to Say: "You deserve it."

This was probably the harshest of the negative comments.

There were a few people with this remark actually (which really surprised me) but one in particular stood out. Her words were actually, “Because you purchased a child from overseas. You treated yourself to a thrill. You knew it was wrong, didn't give a damn and did it anyways. 
It's kind of awesome to see selfish baby buyers getting exactly what they deserve.”

I assume the anonymous commenter has had a poor experience with the international adoption system as they made reference to people “buying” their children from overseas. She went on to say she had three that she adopted from the US (for which I assume she didn’t have to pay any money for the process). Perhaps they have had or have heard of first hand experiences with some of the terribly corrupt practices in the adoption system. I do not have personal experience, but I have heard stories of people making profits off of the “business” of adoption and even people taking healthy newborns from loving families to “sell” to adoption organizations. This is so tragic that I don’t have words and I pray and have no doubt that there are good people on the inside of the system who are fighting hard for reform. It is a messed up world we live in, folks.

However, to tell an adoptive parent that they “deserve” the trials that the special needs of a child brings because they paid various costs in order to bring that child into their family is no more fair than to tell a family who has a biological child with special needs that they “deserve” it. Adoptive parents do not feel “entitled” to a child. Every loving parent desires for their child to grow up healthy, strong, and well adjusted regardless of their bloodline and when that doesn’t happen for one reason or another it is HARD. It is hard to watch your child suffer and to not understand how to communicate in the right way with that child. Reactive Attachment Disorder, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Anxiety Disorders, etc. are very real and can wreak havoc on the lives of those who have it and their families. Support is needed.

A Better Thing to Say: “I don’t understand your pain, but I will commit to pray for you and your family.”

I would never presume to know the depths of pain that families who have children with terminal illnesses face. I have never personally experienced that. But I can have compassion and pray for God’s hope and healing, peace and strength. In the same way, if you have never experienced life with a child who has special emotional or psychological needs, you won’t be able to understand all the dynamics. So, hold your judgement and pray. God does know and understand and He can bring hope and healing. 

“Now finally, all of you should be like-minded and sympathetic, should love believers, and be compassionate and humble.” 1 Peter 3.8

What Not to Say: “You shouldn’t point out all the negative things about adoption. There are so many kids out there that need families and you are going to scare people out of adopting!”

That would be like saying, “Don’t tell people that marriage can be challenging! You will scare people out of getting married!” Let’s just shoot straight here. You could talk to a couple that is in love all day long about the difficulties that marriage can bring and they are going to smile and nod right through your conversation and on their way to pick out wedding cakes.

If someone feels called to adopt, they are no less going to allow the knowledge of potential challenges deter them than they are the mountains of paperwork and years of waiting. What actually more likely to happen is that they will be better prepared for the trials that may (or may not!) come there way. I wish someone would have told me!! Granted, I’m glad I didn’t know the DETAILS, but no one knows those but God anyway. It would have just been nice to know that it’s not all unicorns and rainbows like the pictures and stories make you think.

We have books about marriage and conferences about marriage and blogs about marriage because it can be complicated. It shouldn’t be far fetched to have the same type of encouragement and support for struggling adoptive parents.

A Better Thing to Say: “Thanks for balancing out the realities of adoption. It can certainly be overwhelming and challenging. Praise God that He is bigger than all of our trials, though!”

Amen and amen!! He IS so much bigger! That is the hope we have and some days that’s the only thing that keeps us going. It’s good to be reminded of it often.

“Bright eyes cheer the heart; good news strengthens the bones.” Proverbs 15.30

What Not to Say: “You just need to learn what unconditional love is.”

Whew, YES! Don’t we all?? I will be the first to admit that 1 Corinthians 13 is a challenge for me. “Love is patient.” Failed at that one today when my son spilled another glass of water. “Love is kind.” Yep, another mess up when the day was ending and my kids were stretching my last ounce of patience. “Love does not act improperly.” Yikes. We won’t even go there.

Unconditional love is a tough one, y’all. We are human after all. But that is exactly what we are striving for, right? To love the Lord our God with all our hearts and to love our Neighbor (husband, children, friends, family) as ourselves. Love, love, love. It’s all about love!

So simple yet so… hard. We are selfish by nature. But as Christ followers, it is in us to desire to love. And therefore we long to love our special needs adopted children unconditionally. The struggle comes when—surprise!—that love is rejected over and over. But as I walk this journey, I am learning more and more about how truly amazing and miraculous it is that the God of the UNIVERSE would love me—an awful, terrible sinner—so much that He gave His Son to die in my place and that even now—now that I know who He is and His great love—He loves me when I reject Him and ignore Him. WOW! He is THE perfect example of how we are to love the unloveable. So, YES! We do need to learn what unconditional love is. We ALL do!

A Better Thing to Say: “We are all unloveable at times. Keep fighting the good fight and remember God’s unconditional love for us. I pray your child one day sees Christ’s love through you.”

Whew. When I hear those words it is both a great reminder and like a healing balm to my soul! Yes, I am so unloveable, but God loves me! Because of that I can show that same love to my child and trust that God will open her eyes to the beauty that it is. Amazing.

"We love because He first loved us." 1 John 4.19

What Not to Say: “You should have adopted for the right reasons.”

Honestly, I don’t really know what the “wrong” reasons to adopt are, but I’m assuming it would be to impress people? To take cute family photos? To have a little variety in your family’s skin color? I don’t know. If any of those were the reason you adopted then, yes, you definitely should have adopted for the right reasons! But I don’t know a single adoptive family that didn’t adopt out of genuine love for the Lord and for their child. (Not saying they aren’t out there, just that I don’t personally know them.)

To tell this to a parent who is struggling with the reality of their adopted child’s special needs would be like telling a parent struggling with the reality of their biological child’s special needs that they should have gotten pregnant for the right reasons.

What??

I will say again, no parent wants to see their child suffer. No parent wants to struggle every day to connect and watch their child reject love.

We often hear on the one hand that adoptive parents are expected to love their adopted children in the same way they love their biological children (and they should!) but when it comes to admitting to difficulties adopted children sometimes face, it’s taboo, though often not so with biological children. It’s a little unbalanced, I’d say.

A Better Thing to Say: Probably nothing at all.

Instead, maybe research some of the very real emotional and psychological issues that adopted children (and in turn adoptive families) face.

Things like Reactive Attachment Disorder and Post TraumaticStress Disorder which are both very common in adopted children. By doing a little research, you may be able to better understand and gain compassion for these children and families.

“Pure and undefiled religion before our God and Father is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself unstained by the world.” James 1.27

What Not to Say: “You are just self-righteous/entitled/egocentric.”

I have a friend who has a biological child who has classic RAD symptoms. Let’s pretend for a moment that she wrote this same exact blog about her daughter that she carried in her womb for 9 months, gave birth to, and raised from day one yet has shared with me many of the emotional trials this child has brought.

Would you say that she has a feeling of entitlement because she longs to relate to and understand her daughter and love her effectively and grieves that she can’t? Would you say she was self-righteous because she recognizes the internal battle that her daughter faces with building walls to protect herself emotionally, knowing all the while as her mom that she doesn’t need to? Would you consider it egocentric that she wishes differently for her family?

My guess is probably not.  So I offer up the idea that neither is it for an adoptive parent.

A Better Thing to Say: Gonna go with “Nothing at all” on this one, too.

If you genuinely feel that way in your heart, you miiiiiight want to examine and see if perhaps you aren’t the one with a self-righteousness issue. We all have battles. We all have sin that we fight daily.

Don’t judge someone else because their struggle looks different from your own.

“The one without sin among you should be the first to throw a stone at her.” –Jesus

The Bottom Line:

“And the tongue is a fire. The tongue, a world of unrighteousness, is placed among the parts of our bodies; it pollutes the whole body, sets the course of life on fire, and is set on fire by hell…. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison. With it we bless our Lord and Father, and with it we curse men who are made in God’s likeness. Out of the same mouth come blessing and cursing. My brothers, these things should not be this way.” James 3.6, 7b-10

Easy killer. Reel it in. If we truly call ourselves Christ followers, then we are to “carry one another’s burdens” (Galatians 6.2) and to “[speak] to one another in psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs, singing and making music to the Lord in your heart”. It’s hard to do those things when we are tearing one another down and lacking compassion.

It’s easy to post an anonymous, hateful post (which all but one of these were anonymous) and then carry on with your day feeling justified in your remarks. But it’s also easy to forget that there are real life people on the other side of the screen. I highly doubt you would speak face to face that way with someone (at least I hope not, wow!)

To everyone who shared your stories and wrote words full of life and encouragement, thank you!! We are in this together and it is so much sweeter when the Body of Christ rallies around to carry the load.

(PS Congratulations if you made it to the end of this very long post! Feel free to comment. If you disagree with any part of what I said, I’d love to hear from you as long as it is written respectfully with the intent to understand one another. All hateful comments will be deleted because, well... ain’t nobody got time for dat.)

Broken Teeth and Broken Lives: If We Weren't "Just" Moms

We read the document line by line, our plea to the judge to make this brown-eyed girl our own.  Our lawyer had drawn it up for us, ensuring that while this would be a lengthy process, it really was not all that complicated.

“Richard Whittemore, married, pilot, resident at….”

So far so good.

“Ashley Whittemore, married, just a mom, resident at…”

I paused.

“Just?” I said. “Just a mom?”

It was clear that the irony of the situation was lost on our lawyer. But because my third language is not yet apt to communicate emotions appropriately, I chose to let it go.

But later I began to think through the implication of that one little word “just”, tossed in there, seemingly out of habit. After all, this is not normal legal lingo. He didn’t say that Richard is “just a pilot” or that we were “just married” or “just residents”.

He was, knowingly or otherwise, communicating a common perception that this whole thing about raising up little humans is “just” something to be done.

Something we take care of in our spare time.

I decided to flip the situation around so maybe we can get a better idea. Maybe we can see what happens when someone is not “just” a mom.

I can do this because I am living it.

Because our adopted daughter’s birth mom JUST didn’t brush her daughter’s teeth, my daughter now has an ongoing gum infection. Several of her adult teeth are now mere fragments and she will have to have crowns to replace them. We have to do a mouth treatment several times a day, just to try to keep the infection at bay.

Because she JUST didn’t watch out for her daughter, but left her in the streets as a vulnerable little girl, my daughter now has scars from experiences that no adult should endure, much less a child. These will affect her for years to come and we will constantly deal with the psychological effects.

Because she JUST didn’t feed her child, but left her to eat candy and Cheetos all day, my daughter looks like she has highlights in her hair, but it’s the effects of malnutrition. For the first two weeks she lived with us, she asked us every single day if she would get to eat.  She didn’t know the word for dinner. Before bed she would ask if she could eat again tomorrow.  We had to teach her to chew thoroughly, take reasonable sized bites, eat slowly, enjoy the food because she devoured every meal as if it were her last.

Because she JUST didn’t bathe her daughter, my daughter had a massive scalp infection that required two medications and a special shampoo for two weeks to heal the infection and kill the unbelievable amount of lice that had taken up residence in her hair.

Because she JUST didn’t care about the educational needs of her daughter, my daughter now struggles to learn, period. She is almost seven years old and doesn’t know her basic shapes, doesn’t know the difference between a number and a letter, has difficulty remembering anything, and struggles to understand basic concepts.

Because she JUST didn’t teach her daughter to speak her emotions and work through them in a healthy way, my daughter literally has the capability to shut off completely. Her blank stare will pierce right through you. It takes hours upon hours to break down the walls that she has built up.

Because she JUST never said “I love you” to her daughter, my daughter looked at me with surprise the first time I said it to her and said, “You love me?”

And the list goes on.

So if being “just a mom” means I brush my kids’ teeth, keep them away from people and situations that will physically and/or emotionally harm them, feed them nutritious meals, give them baths, teach them, guide them, love them—well, then that’s what I’ll be.

Because I’ve seen what happens when someone isn’t “just” a mom. I see it every single day in my oldest daughter. I see it on this street and in this town while twelve year old little girls walk around pregnant, young boys steal and lie. And worse.

And I can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, if Mariclene’s mom had had someone that was “just” a mom to her, things could look a whole lot different.

This mom business is hard. It is exhausting and draining. There are nights that I collapse in bed and feel overwhelmed with the job that I have been entrusted with to raise these little people into adults that fear the Lord. It requires great sacrifice.

Whether you have one or twelve, this is a hefty load we “just moms” carry. So lets be gracious to one another.  Let’s carry on another’s burdens. Let's encourage and build up. Let’s teach our children to value this mom gig so that the next generation will have a greater understanding of the importance.

But most of all, let’s rely on the God’s grace and do this “just mom” job well.

It’s just so important.

{Side note: I wrote this from a mom’s perspective because I am one and the thought was sparked by the “just a mom” comment. I want to say that the father’s role is EQUALLY as important in a child’s life. God created the roles of both Father and Mother and while they vary in many ways in how they play out day to day, neither is more important than the other and this is a value that should be taught to our children. Much of society’s issues also stem from the lack of godly fathers and role models.}

One More Month of "Normal"

Last November, we were living in NC for about a month and a half as Richard worked on his helicopter license. I started attending a MOPS (Moms of Preschoolers) group while we were there. It was very encouraging for me during that time and I met a lot of great women.

One very sweet young mom asked me a question that has stuck with me ever since. After learning of where we were going and what we were doing, she asked,

"But how do you make life "stable" for your little boy? We're working hard right now to provide a stable home and environment for our son... how do you do that in the Jungle??"

For a moment, I felt baffled because I didn't know what to say. Immediately, James 1.5 popped into my head: "Now if any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives to all generously and without criticizing, and it will be given to him."

For wisdom I prayed. Hard. I wanted to answer well because I could tell she was really searching.

And as I opened my mouth I felt like the Holy Spirit was speaking through me with this answer:

"We will just raise him to know that the only true stability in life is Christ. Beyond that, nothing is stable. Our health, our home, our jobs, our vehicles... all of it can pass away. But Jesus... He's not going anywhere."

Here we are, less than 4 weeks out from our international move and I find myself in our last month of "normal". And I ask myself, "Is Jesus my stability? Am I OK without these "things"? Will I survive without my family and friends?"

And as each day passes, I find myself relishing each "normal" thing as it comes and goes:

A trip to the grocery store for a few things.
Rocking Elliott in his rocking chair and laying him in his crib-converted-big-boy-bed.
Folding laundry in the laundry room while Elliott plays with Capo (our boxer) in the back yard.
Facebook messaging with friends.
Trips to Chick-Fil-A, Moe's, and Target.
A text to my mom.
Loading the dishwasher.
Turning down the air conditioner.
Pulling out of the driveway.
Stopping by my mom's house.

All of these things and more have been my "normal" for my whole life. And now that I am in the last few weeks of them, suddenly the past almost four years of support raising don't seem like they were that long. Suddenly each thing that I used to just do seems like a luxury that I hold onto for a little bit longer:

Taking a warm shower.
Filling the water pitcher from the kitchen sink.
Cooking dinner.
Flushing the toilet.
Going to our home church.
Dinner with friends.

And it's emotional. But it's beautiful.

That seems to be the ebb and flow of this journey:

fun and hard
exhilarating and exhausting
exciting and challenging
up and down
old and new
beautiful and scary



The other night as I rocked Elliott to sleep, long after his eyes had closed and he slipped off to dreamland, I continued to hold him and think of all the memories contained in the four walls of this home turned house-almost-sold. Tears came to my eyes as I thought of opening wedding gifts in the living room, cooking meals in the kitchen, laughing as we watched movies on the couch, bringing Elliott home from the hospital, playing games in his bedroom floor and laughing so hard we cried over dinner with friends.

And again I felt the Holy Spirit whisper sweetly to my soul, "This is good. This is how it was planned and it is good."

I found a peace in my heart that I had missed before. Somewhere in all the packing and e-mail writing and planning and running-around-like-a-chicken-with-my-head-cut-off, I had missed this still small voice whispering to me all along saying,

"Those are the beautiful memories I gave you. I want you to cherish them and love them. But don't hold on so long you miss what I have in store for you next. It's beautiful, too."

And that's when I felt it for the first time. I've known for years that this was the journey we would take and I've been excited but for once I had an overwhelming peace that it was OK for this chapter to close. This one of security and comfort.

And I didn't get a peace that said this new chapter would be easy or comfortable. He didn't promise there would be no heartache or pain. But He said, "I'm with you. And it's beautiful. Trust me."

And I cried as I rocked Elliott, but the tears were tears of joy and praise that this Almighty God would look past my fears and doubts and worries and somehow allow little, faithless me to be a part of His work. And I felt so small and humble and weak, but He felt so big and worthy and strong.

So I choose to enjoy these little moments of "normal" until our "new normal" comes along.

And, though I will no doubt fail, I choose to let Christ be my stability.

Because He's not going anywhere.

Today, I Reflect

Today I reflect on who God is making me.


About two years ago, I began on a spiritual journey that hit both suddenly and powerfully. I can remember where I was standing when it hit me so profoundly that the God I have claimed to know and serve since I was a little girl is so very much bigger than my mind ever thought possible. It was like all of a sudden my eyes were opened, if only a crack, to see that He’s a big God. He’s a powerful God. But more than that, He’s a God who knows me better than I know myself. And loves me anyway.

It’s been an amazing journey of learning what grace is, what mercy is, and how the God of this Universe sees me.

It’s been a journey of climbing to the top of the mountain and being breathless from all that I see that God is and does. And it’s been a journey of walking in the desert, wondering where that God of the mountaintop is, only to realize He’s matching me step for step and teaching me more than the mountaintop ever could.

There have been tears and there have been “aha!” moments and there have been questions that I still don’t have the answers to and likely never will. But it’s in all of those things that I realize that I am so thankful that the God I serve can’t fully be understood. Because that means He’s a big God.

These last two years have helped me see through the tradition that clouded my eyes before. I’ve started to see past the “rules” and religious jargon that has hindered me in the past. And what I’ve discovered is that the God I’m learning to serve is a God of diversity. He’s a God who not only appreciates uniqueness, he created it. He’s a God who desires unity, not uniformity. He’s a God who looks straight past my outward and deep into my heart. He knows my imperfections and humbles me in my pride. He is patient when I think I can do it on my own and never makes me feel like a failure when I realize [once again] that I can’t after all.

He’s a God who has a beautiful purpose and plan for my life and it’s one that will bring glory to His name. He’s a God who doesn’t expect perfection, because He already found that in His Son who died for me. He’s a God who is holy and righteous and loving and patient and kind and all-powerful, and yet He thinks of me and calls me His daughter.

And when I think of the specific calling He has placed in my heart, I sometimes start to fear. I see my inadequacies. I see my incompetency. I see how I am afraid. But it’s at that moment that I realize that the beauty of it all is just that—God can take someone like me, a nobody from nowhere, and use me in spite of myself to accomplish His purposes. And that absolutely blows my mind.

When I acknowledge that I am incapable, that’s when God can use me. And that’s when I beg Him to please keep my humble. Please remind me every day that I am nothing apart from Him.

So, today I reflect on who God is making me.

And even though I can’t see the end result just yet, I pray it looks a lot like His Son.