The Discovery

(Continued from this post.)

I took a deep breath. Here I was, toes at the very edge of the cliff. One more step … a prayer … deep sigh … guide me, Lord … catch me …

One step, two, three … I looked around. Where was I? Where was the frightening fall into the murky depths of an icy sea?  I found myself wading on soft sand into clear, light, life-giving water. A bright expanse, rainbow colors, sapphire … a sparkling throne.* Completely unexpected, yet deeply familiar. Somehow, it was no strange place I had encountered. 

I had come home.

Back in my regular house at the family table, feeding my baby in her high chair, my heart expanded as I heard in the background lyrics that suddenly held new meaning for me: 

You call me out upon the waters

The great unknown where feet may fail

And there I find You in the mystery

In oceans deep

My faith will stand

And I will call upon Your name

And keep my eyes above the waves

When oceans rise

My soul will rest in Your embrace

For I am Yours and You are mine

Your grace abounds in deepest waters

Your sovereign hand

Will be my guide

Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me

You've never failed and You won't start now

So I will call upon Your name

And keep my eyes above the waves

When oceans rise

My soul will rest in Your embrace

For I am Yours and You are mine

Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders

Let me walk upon the waters

Wherever You would call me

Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander

And my faith will be made stronger

In the presence of my Savior

Oh, Jesus, you're my God!

I will call upon Your name

Keep my eyes above the waves

My soul will rest in Your embrace

I am Yours and You are mine

(“Oceans” by Hillsong United)

*See Revelation 4; Ezekiel 1:22-28 and 10:1; Exodus 24:10

The Response

(Part 3 of 4. Here are parts 1 and 2.)

I stood again, tentatively taking a step toward the edge. Lifting my heart again in an agonized cry,

“Lord, where are you? I just want to follow You! But I am afraid! I don’t know how to find You in the Catholic Church! What if it is dry and dead there? What if … ? How can I … ? Will You … ? Will I die?”

Suddenly He was there before me, arms outstretched,

“If it is Me, will you come? Will you trust Me, even with your heart? With everything you love? Will you trust me to find You, to lead you to Myself, no matter where you are?”

My heart leapt. I knew it was Him. This was the face I knew, the voice I loved.

Heart pounding, I answered,

“Yes! Jesus, I am still very afraid. But I will come to You.”

He hadn’t answered my questions or calmed my fears. He had simply shown me His face, let me hear His voice, and I knew that whatever happened, I would be safe with Him.

Placing my hand in His, I walked toward the cliff, with these old, beloved words growing alive in my heart:

“Tell me, O you whom my soul loves,
Where do you pasture your flock,
Where do you make it lie down at noon?
For why should I be like one who veils herself
Beside the flocks of your companions?”

“If you yourself do not know,
Most beautiful among women,
Go forth on the trail of the flock
And pasture your young goats
By the tents of the shepherds.
(Song of Songs 1:7, 8) 

(Final post here.)

The Question

(Continued from this post.)

Oh, my Jesus. How can I refuse You? You have been my First Love since I was a little child. Since I memorized John 3:16 in Sunday school:

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son,
that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

Since I sang, “Jesus Loves Me,” at night when I was afraid.

Since my heart was formed by songs learned in the little churches I attended with my family. Songs like:

Lord, You are more precious than silver.
Lord, You are more costly than gold.
Lord, You are more beautiful than diamonds.
And nothing I desire compares with You.

and

Take me into the Holy of Holies.
Take me in by the blood of the Lamb.
Take me into the Holy of Holies.
Take the coal, cleanse my lips, here I am.

I gave You my heart at camp when they said, “Who will respond to the call of the Lord?” and I repeated the words of the prophet,

Here am I; send me.

And again, much later, when I renewed my promise that I would never refuse You, no matter what You asked. And I heard Your voice in my heart:

I know that you will never say "no" to Me.

So I knew that my decision was made, had been made long ago and affirmed over and over. I would follow You anywhere You called me, as long as I knew it was You.

But how would I know? That was the question pressing on my soul.

Lord, is this You? Could it possibly be You calling me to the Catholic Church? Don’t let me be deceived or led astray. I am trusting You, my Good Shepherd. You said that those who seek You would be sure to find You. You are my heart’s desire. Don’t ever let me wander away from You. I cannot --- I will not --- lose You!

(To be continued.)

The Invitation

It felt like I was standing at the top of a cliff on a Northern California Coast. I could look into the distance and see a beautiful sea stretching out to meet the endless sky. Behind me were wildflowers along safe paths. Here I stood, contemplating my choice. I could go back to the familiar place I loved. Continuing to explore the paths on shore, I could spend a lifetime enjoying the view from here. Or I could accept the invitation I heard beckoning my soul.

My lover said to me, “Rise up, my darling!
Come away with me, my fair one!” (Song of Songs 2:10, NLT).

I heard the voice I had loved all my life calling to me. I had heard this voice before. I had promised to follow Him wherever He led. Yet this journey … exploring the depths of the Catholic Church ... more terrifying than any I had considered before. Was He really asking me to step off the edge of the cliff? What would happen if I did?

I took a step closer. I looked down. The water was dark, swirling around jagged rocks. I imagined the chill seeping into my flesh, my body smashed as the tide crashed against the cliff. As the sun sank into the blackened sea, my paralyzed body sank, lifeless, into the depths.

Trembling, I wondered. Was this vision true? Or would He, somehow, catch me as I fell?

I sat down, gazing at the gorgeous colors of the sunset reflecting on the surface of the water. I had loved Him all my life. I had longed to be ever closer to Him, hidden in the depths of His heart. Would I trust Him now, when He seemed to be asking me to step into the unknown? Would I ever be content again if I didn’t? Or would I always wonder what would have happened if I had taken that one, terrifying step?

Was this an invitation to an incredibly journey, or an insane plunge into the abyss?

I could hear the voices of some behind me, desperately calling,

“No, don’t go there! It’s dangerous, and you might lose your way! Please, we love you! Don’t leave this safe place where we are!”

I loved them. I had no desire to leave them. Yet, increasingly, I could not ignore this insistent voice.

“Will you trust Me no matter what? No matter where? No matter when? Are you truly mine? Or are you theirs first? Will you trust Me, even with them? Even with their fears and doubts, in addition to your own?”

(Continued here.)

Refreshing

The cool breeze washes over me like a touch of Your Spirit whispering through the trees, “Come, my beloved. Come away with Me. Sit in My presence. Listen for My voice. Receive My love.”

Your voice awakens longings in me deeper than I can describe. It is intoxicating, promising intimacy beyond any other. I follow, helpless to deny You.

Your love is refreshing, reviving my soul. Your love beckons me to come near. Insistent, gentle, constant, unassuming … inviting, never forcing … ever present. Your love is easily forgotten --- ignored --- lost in the busyness of the day. But it is always there, silently waiting for the seeking heart to find.

Revive me, Lord. Awaken me to Your love. My heart forgets ... forgive me ... help me to live always in the reality of Love. Every moment. Not on autopilot, just doing, disconnected, deaf to Your sweet whispers in my soul. Make my heart attentive to You.

Because more than anything, I want You. My heart, mind, body, soul filled and consumed by You. Nothing less will ever satisfy me. Help me to stop … breathe … remember … and be.

With You.

Colors of Adoption

Color is my daughter’s cocoa hand nestled trustfully in mine of cream.

Her sparkling dark orbs reflected in my skies of blue.

Pink-tinged lips smiling mischievously as she tells a silly joke.

Ebony hair curling softly as my fingers twist and braid.

Color. It tinges the world of adoption. Exploring the expanse of thought through books, classes, seminars, and conversations, we ask and wonder. What does color mean? What does it mean to me? To my family? To society? Most importantly, what does it mean to my child?

These are questions I have pondered long. A white girl from California, raised in a military family, moving every few years. In the leveling culture of enlisted families, it seemed natural to have friends of various backgrounds. While I learned about the historical reality of racism in school, it seemed irrelevant in my own experience. Though horrified at the raw injustices of the past, I accepted as normal my family’s close friendships with families whose skin tones varied from ivory to obsidian. During college I began to think more deeply about color as I grew close to a white friend who had black adopted siblings. I tried to learn as much as I could about the black experience in America, deeply disturbed to find that racism was not merely in the past. After marriage, my husband and I began to explore adoption. We wanted to hold out our hands to “catch” children who might otherwise “fall through the cracks” into abortion, foster care, etc. We learned that African American children were inexplicably considered “hard to place.” Following our hearts, we decided to see if we could adopt black children.

We were delighted, in 2009, to be chosen to adopt a daughter, and in 2014, another, both dark-skinned and lovely, inside and out. Continuing to educate ourselves, we constantly look for opportunities to cultivate friendships with African-American people and to strengthen those we have already established. We enlighten ourselves through books, movies, and documentaries. In the process, we understand ever more clearly how challenging it can be to grow up black in America. We deeply desire to equip our daughters with the knowledge, strength, confidence, and wisdom they need to thrive in every stage of life. 

Color paints our days with the blushing pinks of tutus, the rainbow hues of beads, the gold of precious memories and the blues of sorrow. It binds us together with black scarves worn at bedtime, white lotion rubbed into skin, and matching tinted nails. Sometimes it separates us in the eyes of those who don’t see the red of our hearts and the sparkling diamond cord that connects them. 

Sisters’ legs entwined in sleep, swirls of coffee and cream.

“Black Spider” her code name as she, costumed, races with brothers in wild play.

“Those are my people,” her shy statement of pride when black friends come by.

Soft tears sliding down milk chocolate cheeks as she seeks my arms when sad.

Laughter bursting through pearly teeth when she is filled with joy.

Every day we read, talk, eat, laugh, play, and love in vivid color. Color is real, it is beautiful, and it is ours.

Pause

Trudging

up stairs to

remove clothes,

sweat-stained

from long day,

much noise, heat,

many things

done, faces

washed, wounds

kissed, instructions

given.

Sighing

as clothes drop,

soft thump atop

others, waiting

to be sorted,

washed,

folded,

hung …

Sky grows dark.

Work still to do.

Glancing

out window, light

beckons, door

opens, single chair

invites. I

accept.

Escaping

hot house, feel

cool breeze, hear

crickets, watch

star appear

in evening sky.

Breathing

deep, I

pause

to give

thanks.

Hello Again!

It’s been over two years since I’ve posted anything on this blog! In the meantime we’ve had three more children (whew!) and gone on an incredible (and unexpected) journey of faith.

Let me explain. No, let me sum up.

First, the children. We now have ten children, ages 13 to 2 months. Eight by birth, two by adoption. I give my heart and life to them willingly. Most of my time is spent caring for and educating these precious souls.

Second, the journey of faith. Saltracer and I were raised happily as Evangelical Christians, mostly in Assemblies of God churches. We met and married in a mega church, and for the next ten-plus years were part of a wonderful, life-giving non-denominational church. Then, God sovereignly moved us toward the Catholic Church, so that now we are happy Evangelical Catholic Christians!

The shock of this and the adjustment period, along with the addition of three children, may account for my lack of blogging during this time. :-)

I have committed to writing for two hours a week for the next couple of months, so I am hoping to attempt to add regular posts to this blog. We’ll see what happens. I give it to the Lord to do with as He wills.