I’m not sure when it hit me.
The reality. He’s not mine and what in the world am I going to do with this teenager? Besides, what in the world were his parents thinking? Sending him to live with two 28 year olds raising four children of their own in a tiny little town called Chelsea?
I wonder, was it the first time I had to use the phrase– “If you don’t fix your attitude, I’m going to have to take your ipod and cell phone” or was it the first time he raised his voice at me– raised it louder than any child ever had.
Perhaps it was when I raised mine in reply.
I remember feeling very scared. Scared we were going to ruin him for sure and he would never know Jesus.
How are you guys?? Doing well??
I miss you all like crazy when I got back to my Taiwan’s home.
Remember we used to riding bikes, planting garden, swimming together, cleaning house, also traveling? Do all the things together as a family… and you guys took your free time, come to my school games, I’m really thankful and love you guys sooooo much, more than I can say and write.
Gibson’s shone the glory, mercy, peaceful around people, let people feel how gorgeous and wonderful this family could be…
I’m glad I could meet you guys, I have learned a lot from you all, learn how to babysitting, how to use the mower cutting the grass without using scissors… also learn how to be independent without parents around, learn how to work hard as a man, the most important is loving people like God does!!!
I miss Gibson’s and love them…, hope we can get together again like we used to be…
Pray for Gibson’s to do well on everything… “
Because he knew us best. He lived every moment, saw our good and bad. And appearance only lasts so long, right?
It only makes sense that my eyes fill with tears and I’m full of emotion when I read his words. Words sent from across the world– words handwritten and sent right to our little place we call home.When I opened the package and saw his writing, my heart leaped and I cried just a bit. Even now, as I type– my eyes fill with tears, at just the simple thought of his words written on paper for us.
There’s no obligation now. He doesn’t live here, eat here, rely on our transportation. He’s home– free to live his life. Yet, each morning– we talk. It’s his night, our morning and always– there’s Ting.
When he writes to tell us he finally attended church for the first time in Taiwan, along side his Dad– my heart leaped again.
Then he says, “I was the only teenager there and the crowd was small.” And I think,
He continues, “It felt good-like being back with the church in America- I could feel Jesus close. We sang songs and worshiped our God”
I wanted to wrap my arms around his tiny self and whisper, “He is always close.” I wanted to look into his eyes and tell him, “You are not alone in this scary journey. God is there. He is real, can’t you feel Him?”
And I think to myself, is this it? Is this what it is like, sending them out– our little children, out to the wolves? How will my heart take this ever again? How can I do this not once but four more times and possibly even more? How do I let go?
How do I trust that God is God and He is Good. How can I Trust that my children listen to God, not me. How do I trust that He is the Lord of their life and I’m not just lording over them.
After we’ve spent years raising our voices louder than anyone else ever has– threatening to take away everything under the sun, for whatever reason irritates us that day; said, what feels like, one million I’m sorry’s, cried over math problems, worried over reading and relationships– then blistered our knees in prayer–
How do we know they will be alright?
How do we trust they will seek Him? How do we know we haven’t ruined them for life? How do we know this everyday thing we call, life– hasn’t left it’s ugly mark all over their souls?
We know, because we’ve loved.
We know, because He loved.
We know, because we fell.
Time and time again, we fell.
We muddied our knees once more, wiped up our mess and tried again.
Just like they will one day do.
We loved through spit up, spilled milk and mis-spelled words. We loved when it was hard and they were ugly. We loved just a bit harder when we felt like giving up. We went to games and cleaned the house. We rode bikes and said, no. We showed glory, mercy, and peace to people — so they could see Jesus. We lived. Together. Every moment.
And they watched.
and now he says, “I know the most important thing is loving people like God does.”
He doesn’t say, “Why did you take my ipod that time, or yell back at me when I was rude.” Not, “Why did you make me go to bed early some nights and tell me I couldn’t have everything I wanted.”
He says, you taught me love.
And I think, really? Us?
Us, with our crazy bed hair, messy house; and crying baby? Us, with the five year old who’s always in your business and the sometimes moody 11 year old? Us? Married, with our “discussions” that can sometimes become heated or long and drawn out?
Us, with our constant talk of that crazy love for this person you’ve never heard of– this person called Jesus. Us? Messy, desperate for grace, constantly in the mud of life… We taught you love?
He simply says, yes.
And that great big God of ours, so full of good, simply reminds me– it’s not about what you do, Kati. It’s about what I’m doing.
Because I Am. And I Am good. And I Am always there, can’t you feel me?
May you trust– they are watching you, He is using you, and He is always good.
Much love, friends.
Um, yeah… is there an ad below here? A creepy ad (yes, directly below here, some strange video, perhaps?) I didn’t put it there = / And I didn’t choose what it will advertise. Sorry about that.