5 Kernels of Corn...

It's a bright blue sky shining on orange pumpkins and brown leafless trees outside our window; making it the perfect Thanksgiving morning!

The children enjoyed listening to this radio drama; the story of the first Thanksgiving.

As I listened during my thanksgiving meal prep, I was overwhelmed again by the redemption and forgiveness in this historic account.

The native American Squanto, who had lost so much personally, was sent along with another Indian Samoset to observe the Pilgrims. After that first harsh winter, when over half of the 102 pilgrims had died, they had built their homes in the shelter of the very location where Squanto's tribe had been the day he was kidnapped by British slave traders.

I don't think we Americans realize after generations of our watered-down version of the Pilgrim story, how many truths from our earliest history are repeating themselves today!

There was much slavery puportrated by the early discoverers of America; kidnapping the Indians & taking them back to Europe to put on display and sell as boughten goods. It's horrifying to think of the disease that swept through the unsuspecting tribes; plagues brought on by travelers from long sea voyages from England and Spain.

But the other startling fact to remember is that the pilgrims themselves were refugees! That little band of Puritans escaped religious persecution first in their home country and then when they tried to assimilate in Holland, found that their persecutions followed them.

Finally, in their desperate wish to live in freedom and practice their faith as they chose, voyaged to a new rugged land filled with unwelcoming inhabitants and harsh living conditions.  My heart broke again for the story of the women and children who suffered during that voyage and during the first brutal winter where they were ill prepared in every way for the elements of Massachusetts.

As Squanto observed them in their squalid conditions, watching them bury their dead, his heart took pity on them. He was even able to forgive the Englishmen though their countrymen had been the source of his own persecution just a few years before.

It is evident in our early American history that God had His hand in the hearts of men; turning the Native Americans toward the English refugees at a moment when they so desperately needed assistance.

I just finished reading the memoir "Dear World" by Bana Alabed. This book is so riveting, I actually read it in one afternoon and evening... I couldn't put it down!

The displacement of families in Syria and many other parts of the Middle East and Africa has rendered the greatest migration of human beings globally since World War II.

As we gather around our table with our loved ones today, enjoying delicious meals that represent the harvest and bounty of blessings in all our lives, we'll remember our earliest beginnings. We will look at the 5 kernels of corn beside each plate: a symbol of the meager food rations - literally 5 kernels of corn per person - that the tiny band of refugees endured that first winter.

They pilgrimaged into an unknown future,  trusting in a Known God; leaving intense persecution for a life of hope and a future of religious freedom for their children.

We'll also be remembering our Christian brothers and sisters who even now are making their own pilgrimages; searching for a place of safe haven to raise their families under religious freedom.

Let's all open our hearts and maybe even our homes as Squanto did, to those who are so foreign from us; those who don't eat or dress the same, look the same, or sound the same. Squanto looked in from his own place of personal difficulties & had compassion: and then stepped in to help and assimilate these newcomers to his beloved land.

Have a compassionate Thanksgiving!
With love from all of us - the Schurter family

Crossing the finish line

Most of the races we remember have triumphal endings. The finishers propel themselves through the tape in cadence with exuberant cheers and applause of onlookers.  It seems as though somewhere toward the end of the race, they gathered up what remaining strength they had left to end the race strong.

Other finishers stagger across the finish line looking blearily around for faces they recognize, water, and a place to collapse and rest their weary legs. Some runners even cross the finish line only to double over and immediately begin to vomit all over the track.

Our official finish to the paperwork side of our adoption seemed to be a lot more like that of the latter runners.

This past Monday, Luke and I traveled with Boaz up to Chicago to appear in court for the final paperwork portion of this adoption.

We had researched several adoption attorneys in our area and ended up deciding the most financially conservative decision would be to go up to Cook County where a lovely woman name Denise Patton advocates on behalf of adoptive families.

Denise is an attorney with 20 years of experience in adoptions; and as an adoptive mother herself, has the compassion and understanding to simplify what could have been a fairly complicated adoption process in the State of Illinois.

Our adoption agency doesn't consider the adoption finalized until we have we re-adopted Boaz in our home state; ensuring he has Illinois birth certificate, final adoption decree, and other paperwork that makes his life much more seamless in the future.

We have been going so strong for so long during this massive paperwork process... traveled over three weeks in Korea between August and September... and now a trip up to Chicago... I think it's finally starting to catch up with us. In short, we grown-ups are pretty exhausted! I feel like we staggered over the finish line on Monday.

It was a fairly breezy drive up to the Daley Government Center.  We arrived in time to check out a donut shop across the street and pick up a box for the other children who were enjoying the day at home with Grammy.

Boaz did great in the adoption playroom.  We were number 5 on the court call,  so waited our turn.  It was fun to watch a particularity exuberant group who came to support the adoption of a 3 year old little girl.  The shining eyes and smiling faces of the well wishers gathered there spoke volumes about the value of each little life.

It's so important to embrace life beyond voting Pro-Life in the ballot box...  To truly be "Pro-Life" is to support and advocate on behalf of the least of these little ones after their mamas have chosen to carry them full-term.

We joyfully stood before the judge when our names were called and "re-adopted" Boaz into our family under the State of Illinois law.  Boaz got to choose a Beanie Baby stuffed animal from a basket and a baby - safe sucker to eat.

We were impressed by the smooth experience and can't recommend Denise highly enough for her professionalism and personality.

After a few more fun photos, we followed her down to the County Clerk's office and waited a few minutes for our judge sealed adoption decree.

It was honestly such a smooth day,  that I was silently pretty proud of ourselves.  I packed Bo warmly in my Onya child carrier ♡ and he was content even in chilly windblown downtown Chicago. Little did I know the wheels were about to fall off this happy train.

Luke had scoped out the area online beforehand and surprised me by walking us around the corner from the Goodman Theater to a nice Italian restaurant (he knows those are a favorite of mine!)

After we were seated and Boaz was happily eating cheerios and sipping a bottle of formula, Luke needed to go move our truck. We'd timed out the $14 parking spot he'd booked online.

No worries.  I ordered our delicious lunch and settled in for the celebration of adoption paperwork finale!!

Then the unthinkable happened.  A parent's public scrutiny nightmare.

Bo must've swallowed the water I was spoon-feeding him wrong: he started to choke and then threw up. Not once.  Not twice. Three times.

There were a few other tables filled with groups enjoying conversation and glasses of wine in the 3 o'clock hour. To my knowledge, amazingly, they appeared not to even notice.

I patted Bo's back, loosely holding a brilliantly white cloth napkin in front of his mouth, rolling it up as he filled it. Poor little guy lost it all.  I grabbed cloth napkins, even snapping the napkin out from under the bread in the basket like a magician. I hissed at Luke to start handing me diaper wipes.

He had been sitting across the table staring in horror. It was like a train wreck: you couldn't look away but were completely helpless to stop the damage.

I took Bo to the ladies room to clean up, and couldn't help but laugh when a calm and balmy French love song greeted my ears.  It was a gorgeous bathroom with marble counters and fine furnishings. As I wiped down my sweet little boy, who was now content and grinning at me, I was thinking,  "Of course! This day was definitely going too good to be true!"

Isn't that how it goes sometimes?? There I was, floating along on a cloud, feeling a little nostalgic like a roaring 20s celebrity in a beautiful restaurant with my best friend and young son... who had just thrown up all over the experience.

Needless to say we hastily finished our late  lunch and made a quick exit; Luke lamenting his $31 parking fee after moving the truck, and then of course we then hit rush hour traffic.

Bo screamed half the way home because he hated being in the carseat... worked himself up so much that he threw up again... all over his carseat... and so ended our day in Chicago! And our new life with Boaz officially began.

You can bet as we were driving home with a screaming toddler covered in his own spit-up on a congested highway, taking three hours on a trip that should take two, we grumbled about the difficulties of adoption.

It isn't always pretty. It isn't always fun. In fact it can be downright messy! When you choose the hard and sacrifice so much, it's tempting to question why God allows such inconveniences and frustrations on days when we should feel joy and elation!

It reminded me very much of our dear friends Bob and Kristi who gave up all their worldly possessions, leaving family and friends and chose the hard for the sake of bringing Christ's love to the hurting people of South Sudan.

While their excitement and exuberance propelled them across the ocean, upon arrival Bob began to suffer with an unexplained illness: severe fatigue and high fevers that doctors could not explain (this later turned out to be a severe case of Mono).

During those times when Bob felt deflated and even depressed on the mission field, he shared how God walked with them through the wilderness of this experience that had such a joyful beginning and descended quickly into confusion, frustration, and pain.

My friend Marianne wisely said "discouragement must be one of Satan's favorite tools against Christians."

We start out so strong! We feel so on-fire for the Lord's will for our lives as we read the Word. We begin to walk out His precepts and then suddenly we're sidelined by setbacks! Isn't everything supposed to go smooth when we're following His plan?!

It's easy in these moments to become self-centered and feel sorry for ourselves. But praise God we look back and see His fingerprints over every step of the way!
He hasn't abandoned us or the mission He has us on. In the rough moments He literally carries us because we are too weak to continue on in our own strength!

We've crossed the finish line of the official adoption and have begun a new race of adoptive parenting.

It is with great joy but utter humbleness that we continue this journey; knowing that in our weakness, our strength is perfect when we rely on His strength to finish well!

Innocence vs. Ignorance

"Mommy? Was I adopted?"

"Why did God choose you to be Bo's mommy?"

"Does Boaz miss Korea?"

"Did you and Daddy always want to adopt?"

These questions posed by our older children blossom from a place of sweet innocence and curiosity. 

The questions and comments we've received from "big people" are a lot more pointed. 

"Did you stay home the first month to make sure you guys weren't carrying anything from over there?"

"Does he have any infectious diseases?" 

"Boaz had all his vaccinations, right?"

It can be slightly awkward to politely navigate these and other questions. I resist replying, 'Do you really think my son and I would be sharing a meal side by side with you if he had an infectious disease?'

Or 

'You've clearly never experienced the rigors of paperwork and scrutiny we've received from the U.S. immigration system, trying to bring an orphan into this country...'

But I take a step back and try to ascertain where their questions actually stem from, I realize most of them are asked out of fear that is rooted in ignorance.  And that speaks to a level of isolation the American Church often cultivates.

In many ways, the American Church is effectively insulated from harsh realities of real pain and suffering not just outside our Country, but right outside our doors.

How many times have you heard the words "trafficking" and "human slavery", in your pew at church? Slavery isn't just a dark scurge of the past: yet I'm embarrassed to admit I was in my late 20s before ever hearing about this existing evil. 

Human trafficking isn't just a 'round the world problem: it's a backyard problem.  According to the Polaris Project, out of the estimated 9k illicit massage parlors in the U.S., 300 of them are in Illinois. Illegal businesses selling human beings are right here in central Illinois. 

We're living in a time with the largest scale refugee crisis in human history. Millions of families - families; fathers and mothers who want exactly what every parent in the American Church wants for their children: safety and a future - are literally walking out of their homes and don't stop until their feet either give out or find a place of refuge. 

These millions are migrating due to wars,  religious persecution,  slaughter by terrorist groups,  crippled economies, famines, plagues & natural disasters. They migrate because some place, any place, has to be better then where they are. But will Christian brothers and sisters around the world open their doors?

Christian Alliance for Orphans estimates there are 153 million orphans in the world today.  That's a staggering amount of babies, children, & youth thirsting for a forever family to love and share life with them. 

Over 280 million people in the United States alone profess to be Christians: so why are so many still orphans? We all can name secular groups and celebrities who are reaching out in tangible ways to change these statistics: why isn't the Church of self - proclaimed Christ followers leading the charge?

I think I know why it took so long before I was really made aware of these realities: because many of us were raised in an insulated Christian society. 

After all; "We don't go to church to hear about the bad things going on in the world." 

Really? What's the pupose of attending a church? Most churches in America would probably agree we attend church to worship God & learn to become "more fully devoted followers of Jesus. "

But if we're following Jesus, then let's follow Jesus! 

God bless those who give their time and resources to ministries in the Church that serve the poor, orphans, widows, & people who skirt society without acceptance from all the "nice people".

Church, we need to wake up. This isn't  just ignorance: this isn't following in lockstep with Jesus. 

It's so easy to believe in America that the purpose of the Christian life is to live in a clean safe neighborhood, have enough insurance and to live a current lifestyle. (Oh; and ensure godly men and women were elected to positions of power.)

None of those goals are wrong in and of themselves.  But if that's our priority, then it rings as hollow as the posterity gospel to those hurting around us. Where do we spend most of our time, energy and resources? To preserve the "utopia" in which we've been born?

If we truly believe we've been put on earth "for such a time as this", then we'd use our power, wealth and authority as United States citizens to speak up for those who cannot speak up for themselves. (Proverbs 31:8-9, Isaiah 1:17)

Following Jesus should compel us to dig into the gospels and find out where Jesus went.  What He did and who He ministered to. Where did He spend His time? (It wasn't always with the "nice people".)

Jesus stopped to speak with prostitutes.  

Jesus avoided the hangouts of the pious religious figures of His day to routinely break bread with sinners. 

Jesus embraced those no one dared go near and changed the lives of those living in every kind of bondage. 

Jesus lived 33 years without clinging to the trappings and luxuries of this world and choose to walk the hard paths of the unpopular and unloved. 

We're not the only ones who struggle to see like Jesus... His own disciples often failed to see the needs around them!  Jesus had to continually remind them to welcome foreigners and strangers in their land, to care for the little ones, and help the needy. 

Choosing to walk like Jesus is not always safe or tame. It requires effort to shatter the bubble that prevents us from drawing close to those who are really hurting; those whose lives are far messier than our own.

Too many American Christians seem more preoccupied with whether or not athletes stand up for the National anthem then for standing up for those who have no voice. 

If the Church as a whole doesn't embrace the real reasons for which we've been born in this place and time in history, and truly loves as Christ loves; if we don't choose to face down evil in the power of the Holy Spirit and educate ourselves about what that looks like, then is it any wonder that Christians have exchanged their innocence for ignorance?