Are

When you look in the mirror at home,

You are fine and happy with what you see.

The problem is when you step outside of the home.

That's where the mirrors reflect something else.

Something other.

Gathered in a room of girls,

Silently competing,

"Fine and Happy" suddenly isn't cutting it.

That skirt you thought was fetch,

Their eyes squint at it, but then smile up at you betrayingly.

You look down,

And its newfound ugliness pierces through you.

And yet again,

That ugly deceiver rears its head

Oh no,

Not envy.

We are aware of envy's danger, it's hold, it's wrath.

We are wise to envy's game and the lies of the grass being greener.

So it sends, instead, the coy and looming face of its partner:

Comparison.

I remember the night,

Months previously,

As I did my far too regular trawl of Facebook,

I saw a mother describe how her bundle had finally cracked it and was getting to sleep at 6:30pm and sleeping through the night.

The words grabbed me.

My sane brain left, and my over achieving mind took over.

It started off being happy and pleased knowing the rest a mother needs,

The difficult season the early days of babies are,

And the relief her soul must feel.

Then like a snake it winded cunningly down another dark path,

One where I, once again, questioned my mothering skills:

"Why cant I get my child to sleep?!"

"What am I doing wrong?!"

"'Am I not a good mother?!"

The path weaves further, leading to an ugly pit:

"Why isn't Zella like that child?!"

That's where comparison grabs you,

To that place where even those you love,

Those most close,

most vulnerable,

Risk being attacked.

If I play that evil game,

With my precious babe at just 4 months young,

Then where will I be in 4 years or 14?!

How bruised and damaged will her self-esteem be??

For isn't the root cause of the too-skinny

Too-fat

Too-stressed

Too-overworked

Too-drugged up

Too-overachieving

Lying naked and stripped at the feet of comparison??

The saddest thing of all,

The true travesty of the situation,

Is that comparison steals your joy.

Steals your now.

Steals the things of beauty,

Laid before you in this moment.

At present, my favourite thing about Zella is the way she is with people.

Long did I imagine, hope and pray for a child who would not just be ok with others,

But revel in the wonder and fun of new people.

As our dear friend came over and sat on our sofa Sunday night

Zella played with her face

Smiled brightly

Burped responsively

Cuddled tightly

And brought more joy to an individual than I ever thought she could as such a young thing.

And as we travelled across the Atlantic

She took her spirit of woo

Of charm

Of love

At the airport check in desk

Sweet smiles to the security guards

Passengers apprehensive about her small life and potential cries

Were enveloped into her grin and giggles

And as each friend in Texas called her name

She reached arms swung wide open

Almost falling into their embrace

To stroke their face and nuzzle close

If I stand in the place of looking at others side-by-side to her,

I miss seeing her as she sits, just as she is, on her own, as her own individual.

I cannot and will not compare myself to another.

And I most certainly cannot and will not compare my child,

my kin, my babe, fruit of my womb,

To any other.

I will not buy into that silent lie,

That breeds bacteria of discontent.

She, just the way she is,

Like husband, just the way he is,

Like me, just the way I am,

Is more than enough.

Just right.

Complete.

These words will I speak into her,

Over her,

Through her,

With her.

"Zella, you are fine and happy, just the way you are."

Joneses

I want to be like the Joneses.

The Joneses are a great couple.

Fun, lively, adventurous.

And most importantly,

They have lots of money.

They’re both professionals, well respected in their jobs,

And at the end of the month, when their pay cheque arrives

They don’t weep with sadness.

The Joneses love to travel and go and see their friends all the time

They always buy everyone’s drinks at the bar

They produce the most unique and expensive birthday presents for friends

Their clothing is impeccable.

Parties, at the fancy hotels they hire, are an extravagant evening of outrageous fun.

Holidays are filled with business class jaunts across the world

And they can often afford to pay

for other members of their family to join them.

The Joneses are cool.

The Joneses are great.

But the Joneses are not the Millers.

And that makes me envious.

I have this nagging feeling that the Millers

will never be that couple who earn tons of money.

And I thought I was ok with that.

Neither one of us has a tremendous desire to climb the corporate ladder

After Miller man’s brief encounter of retail management,

he realised that he wanted to grow people and not profits

After Miller woman’s profound calling to youth ministry aged 15,

she knew that she was inspired by the thought of impacting the lives of the broken, young and hurting

Neither one of these comes with a massive pay packet

And that was ok

I thought

But five years following graduation

Not even earning enough to meet student loan pay off threshold

And you start to wonder

Is the life of the Millers that good

That effective

That profitable?

And you peek over the fence

And the grass looks lush and bright

And for just a day, or a week

It seems great to roll around

On the other side

Profound night thoughts make me ponder

What is true wealth?

For our wealth of experiences

Of travels to African continent

Jet set transatlantic life

Training people who impact a generation

Helping write book that calls others to action

Mentoring young people and seeing them thrive in their futures

Being told by non-Christians, that our faith seems so strong

Is there not a great richness in this as well?

And commitment made, and stuck to, alongside marriage vows

To live debtless

Unchained

Without credit card, store cards

Mortgage or car loan

And see the real freedom

That could be had

Are we not richer with bank balance that stays in black?

When Father’s holy word says

“fret not yourself”

and

“do not be envious”

I must remind myself

We are the Millers

Called to something different than the Joneses

Or the Smiths, or the Blacks, or the Scots

Our path is individual

And looking over fences

Merely distracts from the garden I am to tend on my own patch

Being rich is not a crime

Being poor is a not a sin

The real travesty of life

Is when I’m so blinded by the endeavour for the more and different to what I have

The world misses out on me concentrating

On the things I am called to

The things the Millers are meant to do.

Photo © Paul Green

Right

This isn’t the right time.

Amidst a flailing of instruction reading and nervousness, we had taken the pregnancy test (as I tried not to pee on my hand), and it came up positive.

We’d only been back in the country four months.

Steve’s dad had only passed away two months before.

Steve had barely started his new teaching assistant job, and was in the process of applying for the extremely competitive and demanding Graduate Teaching Programme.

It wasn’t the right time.

Never mind that Steve and I have a nine year friendship, with a nearly four year marriage.

Great degrees, successful careers so far with plenty of hope for future prospects.

Spent years travelling and serving with a great Christian ministry.

Loving and supportive families excited for the latest member.

Amazing friends ecstatic at the new addition.

A lovely (rented) house with plenty of space.

It still wasn’t the right time.

I had been rejected from the Step Up to Social Work programme.

I was two days from the UCAS deadline for the Masters in Social Work.

I had applied for jobs and not heard back.

I was still working out my career.

That’s what I mean by “it wasn’t the right time.”

Nothing can prepare you for that overwhelming feeling

The pressure of that new life growing inside you

That will be totally dependent upon you

Rely on you for everything

Will look up to you

And you feel you have nothing to give.

Would my child understand all the ups and downs of changing countries, and changing careers? Would my child understand the fact I just got into retail again so I could have a job while Steve looked after his dad, and I tried to find something different but nothing seemed to open up, and then I found out about them, and it was harder to get another job, and risk losing substantial paid maternity leave

For the sake of a

Future career

Future pipedream

Would my child understand?

Do I really understand?

What is my worth found in?

The right career

The right title

The right view of me that I have built up, that I aim for, that I am seeking to have.

I crave that perfect life,

superwoman career mum,

that bakes organic,

giving 100% to marriage

to childcare

to cooking

to church

to hobbies and friends and socialising

and as my belly grows, aches with preparatory birthing pains

my spirit grows more in tune to Father’s whisper

you can’t have it all

so what do you want?

I have wanted motherhood

since spending summers building Playmobile families and homes around my room

since being oldest girl grandchild caring for all oxford cousins

since learning to read early and gathering nursery group for story time

since holding newborn baby brother in my teenage arms

since texas days surrounded by families babysitting for fun

yet shock of motherhood entering my house unexpectedly

made me forget all these things

forget that I have known for a year which nappies I want to use

forget that Steve and I hunted down random family in airport to see brand of their buggy

forget conversations spent learning about family dynamics to be prepared

forget heart racing moments and disappointment of previous pregnancy “scares”

forget burning desire in heart

to nurture

care

create that cute

ginger afro

competitive machine

the world so yearns for

yet is so not ready for

Baby Baby,

I was made ready for you

And your timing, Father, is just right.

Always Thankful for...

• …a flight that was $300 cheaper than anything else we had found.
• a comfy row for two on the plane – Steve gets a window seat, I get an aisle; everybody’s happy!!
• Getting the hair hostess to make me a cocktail of apple juice and spirte – you know me, pushing the boat out!!
• Getting extra bread on the flight (I do love my carbs!!)
• Watching Big Momma’s House 3, Black Swan, Friends, Mr Bean, CSI, Modern Family, and listening to albums by Janelle Monae, Adele & Jessie J.
• Getting picked up in the car by Steve’s sister and baby Fraser less than a month old!!
• The energy of 2 year old Theo (with chickenpox) shouting “bina” & “steve” when we arrived at his house.
• English rain!!
• Arriving at coach station for bus to Oxford 3 minutes before it arrives!
• The sleep on the coach that made up for the lack of sleep on the plane.
• All six bags fitting into the car…by some crazy miracle, and by getting a little squashed!!
• English TV!!
• Fish and Chips for Dinner.
• A “quick trip” with my mummy lasting 2 hours, with ¾ of it involving walking!!
• Mooching around my house in pyjama’s.
• How excited everyone is to see us.
• The fun that we will have over the next two weeks.

• The beautiful sleep I will get tonight. 
• Life, and journey with my wonderful husband. 
• Conversation with Father God. 

Food

Dozens of children called up to show

Their answer to the question:

“What does your family look like?”

With mums and dads and siblings galore

Some from far flung across the globe

Others conceived in the same womb side by side

Smiley faces

With arms open wide

Stood by trees

And houses

Dogs in tow

Grandmas in the back

All saying the same thing:

“This is my family, whom I love.”

Amidst arguments and tantrums,

play fights and the real,

forced meals at the table,

laundry lining the hallways,

dishwasher on repeat,

and angry music vibrating floorboards,

There can still be love.

The time I wrestled him up,

‘Sharpshooter’ strain to pee.

Three months grounding,

for late night sojourn.

Sangria driven buggy,

meanders through Tenerife streets.

Accidental stumble,

onto nudist beach.

Late night jokes,

watching Madea.

Despite mother’s hand shielding from camera,

moments between us still beautifully captured:

“This is my family, whom I love”

Politicians argue

over civilisation’s demise

Homeless & runaways

Prisons overflowing

Abuse and violence

Rape and suicide

Addictions extensive

And remedies are sought

But the source isn’t prevented

The brokenness of our land’s foundation

Houses constructed on sand

ignored.

From the windows young faces

Peer from tattered curtains

Tear-stained eyes

because they could not

and cannot say:

“This is my family, whom I love”

Above the water

And the land

the crowning of creation

“it is good”

we as people

heart and bones

two flesh become one

establishing a legacy

for days to come.

Eternal vows

broken in a brief minute.

Promises shattered,

single eyes cry,

over bulging bumps

isolated grief.

“Where is my family, who I love?”

The cry of too many.

Do you have room 

at your table

to feed the family-less?

When they need not just 

the edible food prepared

But the restoration

And nourishment

and their hearts?

!dea Camp - Adoption & Foster Care

These are notes on the sessions specially addressing Adoption and Foster Care - this DEFINITELY gave us lots to think about...hopefully it will do the same for you. 

Our friends Emily & Moody who have a beautiful family including adoption

-----

ORPHAN CARE

// We cannot live the Christian American Dream

// We could get the statistics on adoption, but it is a simple Biblical principle

// Building programmes that are focussed on people’s gifting is wrong – begin with the needs of the children you are trying to help first!

// Every church should have Orphan Care

// “God sets the lonely in FAMILIES” (Psalm 68:6) – we should be seeking to children within families (whether through fostering or adoption)

// We cannot be satisfied with children living in orphanages, temporary places of transition; they need permanency.

// Man made orphanages for children, but God made families for children

// Jesus set it all aside to enter into our world. Enter into the pain of some of these children and lay aside our feelings.

// The church in the USA needs to work with the church globally to place children in homes permanently (family-like setting) – international adoption isn’t the only option

MEN

// Since the Garden of Eden, men have been passively stepping back. They need to step up.

// Adoptive should not be a back up plan for couples, but a normative idea

// Only 3% of husbands start the conversation of adoption – husbands should be the ones to start it off

// More things need to be shown from the father’s perspective – much of adoption is geared towards mothers

FOSTER CARE

// 115,000 children waiting for adoption through the Foster Care system

// Foster Care manages but does not solve the problems

// 42% of children who age out of foster care will be in the criminal courts by the age of 24

// Children in foster care are 3x less likely to graduate high school

// The older children in sibling groups are less likely to be adopted

// There is a high correlation between homelessness and being in foster care

// We cannot rely totally on our government – we have to engage in the community

// Where possible, children shouldn’t be moved to other parts of the state/town

// If considering foster care, you need to be prepared to have them for a season – anything from a few days until a few years. There will be an element of grief when this season ends. 

- random end thought from me - the BAAF (British Association for Adoption & Fostering) says the average age of an adoptive parent is 38...where are the younger people rising up to make a difference?? Could children benefit from having adoptive parents in their 20s too??

Tug

I am working on changing my guilt into action

Over the past few years, I think a mindset has instilled within me that unless I am doing a big thing, I am doing nothing.

Competitive Texans say: "Go big or Go Home."


When I haven't been able to do something big, i have shyed away, believing I won't make a different.
Cautious about helping with families that are well-off Christians because surely there are people with more need than them.
Not sure about helping in programs that only have 7 girls in them as with my experience, I should be working with groups of 50, 70, 100 or even 1000.
Worried that the times I think Father is speaking to me and then I write a cuple of pages, that they are merely words with no power.

I have come to this point:

Father God deserves a person who does what is laid before them. 


Each of us has something; a leaning, a gifting, a preference.

We will make an impact on the world around us.
That world may stretch 5 miles. It may stretch 500. It may stretch 5000.

But it stretches.

Jesus said: "The harvest is plentiful but the labourers are few."


Maybe that is because the labourers thought that the work set before them was too small, too unimportant, and went looking for a bigger field.

The people around you deserve your help.

I know a story of a shepherd who had 100 sheep but discovered one was missing. He left the flock in search of the one, found it and rejoiced with his friends and neighbours.

A massive party, for one being helped.
One being rescued
One being saved.

Because one searched within their community, looked around, and saw help was needed.

Your help.



Hannah loves romance. 


In my first year month of university she told me, "Don't date in your first year - its the time you work out who you are, and you can't find that in another person."
She explored the intimate relationship Father wants with us, but we seek out in the arms of the 'wrong-but-right-there' person.
This passion has led her to teach in Welsh schools and youth groups about sex & relationships and now move further afield to Zambia in Africa.

This is her tug

Luke loves mental health. 


There is something about schizophrenia in minority ethnic communities that fascinates him, inspiring him to gain understanding and answers to help the community around him.

Led to do a pHD, he tirelessly studies and undergoes ethnographical research to play a part in changing his community.

This is his world.

Anna loves women. 


A fierce protector of those with the XX chromosome and their children, she has worked tirelessly in shelters for the abused, social work and Sure Start centres to support them through hard times.

She not only knows the statistics of domestic violence, she knows the faces.

This is her pull.

Dan loves music. 


His crazy talent for both playing and composing, allow him to write melodies that say everything you were thinking. When he leads worship, the Holy Spirit sweeps in. He isn't interested in the status of being a world famous musician; he's interested in hearts connecting with their heavenly creator.

This is his mission.




I remember a couple of years ago, organizing a crazy sports day with our friends, and we had a Tug-O-War.
I had rope burn for the following week, such was a my sheer determination to win, combined with my freakish man strength.
I put everything I had into that pull.

Your world, your community, your house, your street, your school, your city
Deserves
Your tug.

Steve declared during university to a group of friends that his life goals were simply to be "a great husband and a great father." I remember discussing this, deriding him for "not thinking big enough" and pushing him to think about more things he wanted to achieve, naively believing i was somehow superior with my ambitions of world domination.

One person, on hearing Steve's goals, said:
"You will achieve that in a few years - you need to have something bigger."


But to look at the disintegration of family in our modern society, for a man to make a vocal stand, to declare a fervent desire above all else to be the best father and husband possible, one would clearly see that this is no small task, nor something of unimportance.

Steve and I love families.
We love our mummies, daddies, brothers & sisters, cousins, grandma's etc, but we also love the wider concept of "family" as well as community. We desire to turn dysfunction into delight, to step in the gap of of single-parent homes and orphaned children.
With no kids of our own, we somehow end up on museum trips, teaching English to children, cooking dinners and babysitting kids, watching Disney DVDS and talking with parents on how to raise children. One time, we asked some parents if their kids could stay over at our house so we could build a fort with them; I let the girls try on my wedding dress while Steve drew schematics and taught on construction techniques.

Before Christmas, Father God laid before me two opportunities to help families - to support a homeschooling family, with four adorable children, three times a week, and to volunteer in Fort Worth with an after-school program with seven beautiful African-American girls, picked because they are from single-parent homes and need encouragement.

I grab them with open arms, excited and expectant.

Repeatedly Steve and I have been led to people, conversations, books, blogs, tv shows and other things that have talked of orphans, adoptions, fostering...this week I felt Father God clearly say that I need to put aside my utopia picture of two biological children, that fit neatly into a compact car, and prepare our home that will, in His perfect timing, open its doors to multiple children from multiple backgrounds.

It won't fit neatly.
It won't be tidy.

But as it always is with us,
it will be an adventure.

This is our tug.

"To be a great husband and a great father."


"Bolding seeking Father first, to be made more and more into his likeness; unconditionally loving each other while providing a loving and God-centered environment for all those who enter our home and our lives."


"To love our neighbour as we love ourselves."


Imagine if Steve's goals stirred men to make the bed they lie in, and maybe even bring breakfast to it.
Inspired men to give their families time not money.
Encouraged them to keep their vows of fidelity.
Motived them to see the pleasure of monogamy.

Your tug could make breaking news.

C

Chives. Cherries. Cheese. Chocolate.

The things I dislike most in the world, the things my stomach can barely stand the smell of, the things that I claim allergy/intolerance to, all coincidentally begin with the letter “c”.

Today we add another one to that list.

Cancer.

Pops Miller’s test came back on Friday and there wasn’t a smiley face, gold star or A+ in sight.

So many words to say that all seem so futile.

We had already begun to think that it would be good for Steve to fly back home and see his dad and support the family. Needless to say after this diagnosis, we are packing our winter woolies for England and both getting on a plane in the first week of November.

I question how much use I will be besides making inappropriate jokes to cover awkward painful moments, but I know Steve needs to be there with his family. My wedding ring says “Wherever you go, I will follow”, engraved Hebrew words quoting this passage from Ruth (a book in both the Bible and the Jewish Tanakh):

“Don't force me to leave you; don't make me go home. Where you go, I go; and where you live, I'll live. Your people are my people, your God is my God; where you die, I'll die, and that's where I'll be buried, so help me God—not even death itself is going to come between us!”

This is the promise Steve and I have between us. His people, His family, will be my family. Wherever he goes, I will go.

I never understood the whole Gladney job thing not working out. Until now.

This time when Steve has probably needed me the most in our short marriage, and had to rely on me emotionally, organizationally and spiritually, I am free to do that.  Yes if I had a job, I would have made it work, we would have got around it, you can always manage. But Father God in his sovereignty knew that right now, what we needed more than an extra paycheck was my flexibility.

We know that our family is being hurtled into a painful and difficult time. We are almost positive that both radiation and chemotherapy (another C word I don’t like) will be used to combat this illness.

But once again wise words from my little brother come to mind.

He told our mummy that some boys at school were trying to get him to skip school but he had resisted their temptation telling her:

“My feet are grounded.”

His words continually amaze me and they are what I hold onto. Our feet are grounded in our relationship with God. Our faith is what keeps us standing right now. Our belief of healing reassures us.

As I stepped into this time of uncertainty job-wise, Father God kept revealing passages from Psalms to me:

“You have not delivered me into the hand of the enemy; you have set my feet in a broad place”

“You gave me a wide place for my steps underneath me, and my feet did not slip”

“My steps have help fast to your paths; my feet have not slipped”

In short, Father God promised me that He was leading me into a time where my feet would be grounded. Where I would be secure. Where I would have Him as my rock.

My husband is covered by this word of encouragement as his wedding ring says too, “Wherever you go, I will follow”.

And his family, as his people who are now my people, are covered under that same blessing, that same promise.

Our feet are grounded at this time. 


We stand together, and we stand strong. 


We hope for the best. 


Pray for the whole family, but particularly for the healing of Pops Miller (Brian) as we rely on this final promise:


"But I trust in you, O Lord; I say 'You are my God', my times are in your hand."


This will not be another 'C' word that makes me sick.