The rest of the story (or the beginning of the story...)

I had just had a slightly unordinary morning. It started with some routine car work, followed by a call to 911 for a sick neighbor. That commotion lead to a conversation with another neighbor that challenged my mind and my heart tremendously, reminding me that the mission field is basically in my backyard and not necessarily across the ocean. I'd been awake only a few hours and I already had plenty to think and pray on.

On days like that God seems to be heightening all my senses - physically and spiritually. I felt prickly all over with expectation that He was up to something.

It was labor day weekend and, after that eventful morning, I found myself enjoying a sunny afternoon with my friend Evelyn at the little coffeehouse in my neighborhood known as Cuppies and Joe.

Evelyn was telling me how God had laid it on her heart to foster - and eventually adopt - a little girl. I shared my excitement with her about this news. Foster and adoption care is something I had been asking God to allow me to play a part in for quite some time. Recently, I had done some mentoring and I had volunteered at a foster shelter. I had been wondering if becoming a foster parent was for me, but sensed it wasn't quite for me or at least not for me yet.

My friend is vibrant and beautiful. In many ways, she is wise beyond her years. She is also unmarried. By pursuing fostering/adoption she would, even if only for a season, be deliberately choosing single motherhood. Taking that into consideration, my response was excitement but also caution as I said, "Well I'm sure you would want to raise this little girl in close Christian community. You can't do this alone."

She agreed, having thought the same already, and said that ideally she would live with at least one other Christian woman.

I said I'd have a room available in November.

Have you ever desired and prayed for something so long that when the answer to that prayer comes there is no hesitation just an open door to walk through? That is the best way I can describe this.

I love reflecting on the stepping stones in my history that show how God had been placing this desire on my heart and providing the means to fulfill that desire:

Dec 2007- "The weeping child will find a home. You, Jessica, will be a home for a little one." (letter of prayers/prophecy from an assignment for a prophetic training group)

Feb 2012- "As long as I can remember I've wanted to take care of orphans/children. I hope and plan to do that in some way - through this trip or whatever God wills...The only specifics I sense a calling in is to children (especially the fatherless) and a call to discipleship. I have a desire to meet practical needs. But what makes me happiest and what I get energized the most in is connecting with people on a spiritual and personal level and seeing them grow in that area." (in an application for a mission trip to Kenya)

March 2012- "Then, this past August I did something incredibly scary/crazy for me - I bought a house. Ever since I was a kid I have dreamt of taking people in - orphans, people who are poor materially, or people who are broken emotionally or spiritually. I now have a physical place that can help fulfill that dream. The taking in will follow. God has totally provided and it is all so amazing and good! (Kenya support letter to friends and family)

I hope you read my previous post, because here is where it matters. When I say in that last paragraph "ever since I was a kid" I am actually remembering a 5 year old girl, on the other side of the Atlantic, in the midst of the gibberish of Italian kindergartners, talking to a good Father. It was there that I first prayed the kind of things mentioned above.

So.

Believe me when I say

                  

                  ...in hope and faith...

                                

                                that this next chapter has been a couple decades in the making.

The practical details: It's really only a room in my house that I'm giving. I will have no legal responsibility for this child, I just plan to be a supportive friend in all of this. I've completed 24 out of the 27 hours of parenting classes required for any adult in the home. Background checks are also complete. And, most of all, I want to ensure in whatever way I can that this home is a place of safety, grace, healing, and love.

Now, did I know what I was asking for when I was a kindergartner and I first started praying about these things?

No. Not a chance.

(Remember? Common theme in my prayer life?)

It's been a little over twenty years since those first prayers for this. I'd be lying if I said this is all looking exactly how I imagined it would look. Or if I said that I have all the same desires and prayers today that I had when I was 5. Like my prayer to go to school, these prayers could lead to desert or garden. More likely it will be something ordinary in between. Or all of the above.

What I do know for certain though is that what is coming to my house this summer in the form of a fatherless child is an answer to prayer.

I also know that God hears us. And He does have better ways for us than our own ways.

I know that He is faithful.

I know that He uses all things for my good.

He uses an "accident" like colliding cars to intersect lives from opposite sides of the world to bring about His purposes.

He takes desert times and transforms them into precious intimacy and growth.

He uses His answers to our prayers - even unwitting and childishly motivated prayers - to bring about good.

He takes the small and simple desires of a little girl and He transforms her heart again and again to make her more and more His very own.

He has done it before.

He will do it again.

He is faithful. He is faithful. He is faithful.

When prayers come true

God answers prayer. I can share more than a few good stories to support that statement. But what I want to share right now is the very first time I can remember experiencing this truth.

I was 5 years old. I had just learned I wouldn't be going to the kindergarten I wanted to go to. My family lived in Italy at the time and my parents had decided they wanted me to go to an Italian school. They had one requirement though. They were only looking for a school that would let me attend for half the day.

We visited a school within walking distance of our home. I walked the halls with my parents and played on the monkey bars and swings of the school playground. That was really all I needed to arrive at the conclusion that this school was the right place for me. The head teacher told my parents they only accepted students full-time. Half-days were not an option. My parents wouldn't be sending me to this school. I was crestfallen and my mom knew it. She told me I could pray about it though.

I remember praying.

Now hear this: I don't think the concept of God's sovereignty was much comprehended by my 5 year old brain. It didn't occur to me that maybe it didn't matter what I prayed because God was going to do whatever He wanted anyway. I didn't include in my prayer the acceptable number of "God's will be done" clauses knowing it's what every good Christian does. Pretty much my only motivations to pray at the time were that I liked the playground and I really wanted to go to school instead of being at home all day. But I didn't wonder and worry over how right or wrong my motivations were. I just prayed.

So. I was 5 years old. I had just learned I wouldn't be going to the kindergarten I wanted to go to. And I prayed.

Shortly after, my mom and I were running errands in the family car and my mom pulled into a gas station. I was sitting in the front passenger seat. The car had manual drive, so when my mom accidentally put the car into neutral instead of park we began to roll slowly forward, hitting the car ahead of us. My mom didn't know Italian and the Italian woman whose car we'd just collided with didn't speak English. So that conversation was interesting. Fortunately numbers cross the language barrier more easily than words. My mom and her victim exchanged phone numbers and home addresses. The next day the Italian woman showed up on our doorstep. She invited my parents to dinner. They went, wisely bringing a friend along who knew the language well enough to help translate.

My parents and their friend enjoyed wine, food, and genuine Italian hospitality. The Del Mascios didn't really care about their car much at all - they were just excited to get to know some Americans! Over the course of the meal the conversation turned to kids. My parents told the Del Mascio's about finding a school for my sister in nearby Sacile. Then they told the Del Mascios how they had looked at a school for me but that the school wouldn't accept me on my parent's terms. The Del Mascios asked what school my parents had visited. My parents told them. Mr. Del Mascio began to laugh. "I am the principal of that school! Of course your daughter can attend for half the day!"

My parents were amazed.

I was beyond excited.

God had heard the prayer of a little girl.

I actually didn't know what I was asking for.

(Oh what a common theme this would become for me).  

You see, I don't know about anyone else, but for me it was definitely hard to be away from my parents when I was 5. And not just to be away from them, but to be surrounded by strangers who didn't speak the same language as me. And not just to be surrounded by funny talking strangers but to have teachers whose rigidness and roughness needed no translation for me to understand I was not an absolute delight to them at all times. (Go figure - dramatic emotionalism isn't popular with Italian kindergarten teachers). Even though it was hard - or, you know, probably because it was hard -  it was at this school that I began to experience God as my friend. There's something about being constantly in a crowd of people who cannot understand you that leads you to talk to the only Person who can.

God was very near and real to me there. He taught me to trust Him with whatever I was thinking or feeling. He taught me to listen to Him. He taught me in class. He taught me on that dearly loved playground. He had answered the prayer of a little girl.  He knew full well it would lead to that little girl being lonely and sad and frustrated. But He taught me and led me. He loved me. He came in close - so very, very close.

I eventually learned the language some and enjoyed playing with my school friends. But it was not before learning that God knew me and heard me best.

God's answer to my prayer led to a time and place that was not always easy for me. Regardless, it was still an answer to prayer. We all face difficulties in our life. This experience was a big deal to a 5 year old but it's small fries now and not anything at all when compared to what many others have gone through. But what we can all know and trust about God is that He truly uses difficulties for good. For me He used this time to begin to teach me how to talk to Him and how to hear His voice. And I am so grateful.

continued in next post