I'm not uncomfortable with the psalms of lament. {Actually, I'm encouraged by them.}

Our pastors are preaching through a series on Ruth right now. We're about to get to chapter four, which is where we find the good stuff we like: a wedding. a birth. redemption. promise. hope.

During the sermon on Ruth 1 a couple weeks ago (which I would HIGHLY recommend; here's the link), Brian Frost admitted that we prefer the stories in Ruth 4 over the ones in Ruth 1. We like celebrations; we avoid mourning. I've noticed too that we love to quote psalms of praise and thanksgiving and wisdom, but the psalms of lament? 

Sometimes we treat those like they aren't from the same inerrant Bible as the happier ones.

My friends, the Bible - and life - is not all thanksgiving and Ruth 4. Sometimes it's lament and Ruth 1.

We like to be chipper and cheery, but sometimes our pithy responses sound like, "Screw you and your pain," to those who are hurting. Sometimes the cliches feel less like encouragement and more like a sucker punch.

I know most folks mean well, but sometimes I wonder: if Jesus's lament from the cross, "My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?" had been posted on Facebook, how many people would have replied "Chin up, buddy!" or "This too shall pass" or "I know you're in pain now, but it'll be all fine in a few days. Hang in there!"

{Is it sinful that I just chuckled at the unintended pun of saying "hang in there" to our God on the cross? Forgive me.}

"Look on the bright side" doesn't respond to a mother's exhaustion when her daughter with autism tries to escape from the house every night, not understanding the danger of her actions. "There's a light at the end of the tunnel" doesn't help the parent wondering what the future will be for her son with Down syndrome or the dad taking his son home from the hospital without any firm answers for the fifteenth time. "One day at a time" isn't comforting to adoptive parents who know their child is sick but who must wait out the legal process before bringing him home to needed medical care. And "tough times don't last, but tough people do" is a slap in the face to the missionary fighting bureaucratic red tape just to get on a plane to mourn her father's unexpected death in the US while she faithfully poured into others in Taiwan. 

Those are just a sampling of my friends' circumstances in the past week. 

I'm not sure what the point of this post is, other than to say this: Our theology is incomplete if we only celebrate and never mourn. We've edited out huge chunks of scripture when we encourage people to live their best lives now. We're creating idols if we worship miraculous healings rather than the Healer who sometimes, for reasons all His own, chooses not to heal us on this side of heaven.

Pictures like the one below make our lives look perfect.

You probably already realize this, but that picture? It was the best shot. And even then, it was edited. Our photographer made us look good.

That's great for photography, but not so great for theology. We don't have to cover up our bruises and hide our imperfections and sugarcoat our real pain when we stand before Christ or before fellow saints in His bride, the church. 

Let's be real with one another, setting aside the trite pseudo-encouragements and Photoshopped conversations that we'd prefer. 

Come as you are. If you're mourning or lamenting, you have good company among me and my friends... and among the writers God used to author the Bible. 

meet Pluto! {she's no NV, but I like her better}

We named her Pluto, because she's only slightly smaller than a planet.

See the little black circles on the bumper? They're back-up sensors. If you live in Raleigh, you'll be glad I have those.

As huge as she is, she's only a foot longer than Lee's work Suburban. I drive that just fine, so this isn't as intimidating as I thought it would be.

The cockpit (okay, maybe it's just the driver's seat, but given the size of Pluto, I think "cockpit" works)  is just like other 15-passenger Ford E350s.

But the back? Nope.

Forget most of the benches, and instead you get captain's chairs with one bench in the back for seating for 10.

In case you're wondering, the plan - using the picture above - is for Zoe to be front left, one of the big girls to be front right, the other big girl to be middle left, Patricia to be middle right, and the boys to be on the bench in the back.

The current bench could move back and we could add the spare bench - a three seater that will probably live in the attic - where the current bench is. We don't need for the vehicle to seat 13, though, and I like my cargo space, so we're keeping it as it is.

I have no idea how this picture is useful, but our friend Chad might like it, so here you go. Chad will also care that it's a 2011, that has 47,000 miles on it, and that it's not a Mercedes (though he already figured out that last one, I'm sure.)

And, yes, for the first time ever, the Dingle crew has a DVD player in the car. I know we've done a couple road trips to South Texas, one to Nashville, a few to Florida, and a handful of others, but we tend to go low-tech when roadtripping. I'd rather not have the screen, but the price and everything else about Pluto worked for us, so I'm okay with it. If you're in the market, here's the place where we found ours; they usually have a good selection at the best prices and with the best features I've seen.

The cost was considerably less than the NV, and I like the set-up of this better, so it's a win all around.

Plus, another win: no more "what kind of vehicle should we get?" conversations and Facebook posts now that Pluto has joined the family!

one year ago today

we met our Zoe girl for the first time.

photo credits: the AMAZING folks of The Archibald Project

our front-row seats

In the midst of all the fundraising, I didn't get around to posting about our anniversary on the 18th.

In hindsight, a carnival wedding reception was the most fitting way to start our lives together. We certainly haven't followed other norms since then.

I guess we just don't do "conventional" too well.

Wild. Unexpected. Passionate. Unorthodox. Occasionally frenetic. All with a dash of crazy.

We're good at all that, dadgum it!

In eight years, our marriage has been nothing like we expected or planned.

It's been so much more wonderful than that.

Through every startling deviation from our own plans, God has shown up in surprising ways. Through the circumstances we never would have chosen on our own, He has offered front-row seats to amazing demonstrations of His glory and goodness in our lives.

Like the front row seats we've gotten in the past week.

Friends and strangers ate waffle fries and fried chicken and milkshakes with us at Chick-fil-A. They bought raffle tickets or paid to spin the wheel o' CFA prizes. More friends and strangers bid on items throughout the week. Some gave donations directly. Others helped spread the word about our auction. A few prayed with us over the grants we're waiting to hear about.

And have you noticed it yet?

The fundraising thermometer on the right?

Yep, it read $14,850 yesterday.

Today? After $550 in funds raised through meals and raffles at Chick-fil-A and the $3279.50 raised in the auction (if you won a bid, I'll be in touch today or tomorrow)  and another $3000 we were able to contribute ourselves through recent sacrifices we've made, the total is higher. Much higher.

We've passed the halfway mark for our fundraising to bring Patience, Philip, and Patreesa out of their orphanage and into our family.

We have $21,650.

And we have front-row seats to yet another of God's amazing demonstrations of His glory and goodness in our lives. 

Thank you to each of you to joined us in person, through prayer, or by bids or donations. 

Welcome to the front row with us. We don't know yet where the remaining $18,000 will come from, but we can guarantee that we're all in for an awesome show!

Why do we adopt?

As our auction closed today, I realized I still haven't answered a fundamental question here.

Why adopt?

Or, more specifically, why have we chosen to adopt?

Many families come to adoption after a long road of infertility. That wasn't us. We got pregnant quickly and easily with Jocelyn and Robbie, as we cried with and prayed for friends who waited and waited (and some who still wait). I can't say I loved being pregnant, but I didn't face the sorts of complications experienced by several dear friends. I blogged at one point about my health making future pregnancies unwise, but now I've been freakishly healthy - for me, at least - for 18 months, and none of my docs would have any problem with my carrying another child.

In other words, for us, adoption isn't primarily about wanting more kids.

Insurance covers pregnancy and childbirth. Adoption requires a lot more money, including - for us - fundraising. Given our relative ease with Jocelyn and Robbie, we'd try that route first before adoption if we simply wanted more kids. It would be a heck of a lot cheaper.

Some people have assumed that we aim to rescue children from poverty or disease or hunger. That's not it either. If our main concern was about poverty, then more systemic helps would be more effective on a larger population than a single adoption. Same goes for disease and hunger.

We talked about adoption before we got married, but these faces made it more real to us.

Jocelyn and Robbie, shortly after Christmas 2009

As we cuddled and fed and rocked and soothed and loved those two, it broke our hearts to know that others like them didn't have a mommy or daddy to do the same. At best, they were in a loving children's home or foster setting, but both the Bible and modern research agree that a stable family is the ideal place for a child to live and grow.

This girl not having a dad to proudly hold her an hour after she was born? Unfathomable.

Or this boy not having a mom to poorly attempt a "cute baby in a basket" picture?

Robbie, circa April 2009 {aka I was failing at Pinterest before Pinterest existed}

Or having that mom or dad but then losing them to AIDS or some other issue that kids don't understand?

It's not okay.

Picture your child's room, or the room of a child you love.

Does it look like this?

Probably not. This is a picture of the sleeping quarters in a Ugandan orphanage.

This is why I struggle to find the words when neighbors look at our four-bedroom home and ask, "Where will you fit everyone?"

We don't adopt to add children to our family. We adopt because families need to be added to children who don't have one.

I'll bust out the verses that have been meaningful to us in adoption at the end of this post, but I can sum it up pretty easily: They need a family. We're a family.

Consider a child you love. Try to imagine no one answering her cries, no one snuggling with him when he's sick, no one fighting for the best medical care for her, no one reading him Bible stories and bedtime books, and no one kissing her boo-boos.

It's not a pleasant thing to imagine, is it?

We adopt - and we seek out cases in which other families have said no and adoption chances are looking slim to none - because we would want the same for Jocelyn or Robbie if they were those kids.

Jocelyn matters. Robbie matters. 

So does Zoe. And Patience, Philip, and Patricia.

And millions of other orphans who are waiting, passed over because they are too old or sick or disabled... they matter too.

That is why we adopt.

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Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due, when it is in your power to do it.
Proverbs 3:27

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He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?
Micah 6:8

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...if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like the noonday.
Isaiah 58:10

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Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow.
Isaiah 1:17

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“I can’t stand your religious meetings. I’m fed up with your conferences and conventions. I want nothing to do with your religion projects, your pretentious slogans and goals. I’m sick of your fund-raising schemes, your public relations and image making. I’ve had all I can take of your noisy ego-music. When was the last time you sang to me? Do you know what I want? I want justice—oceans of it. I want fairness—rivers of it. That’s what I want.
Paraphrase of Amos 5:21-24 by Eugene Peterson

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