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Five years and 49 weeks ago, if you would have told me my baby would grow up to be an amazing, loving, tender, sweet, affectionate little boy, I would have kicked you in the shin.

Because five years, 49 weeks ago I had been awake for almost 3 weeks straight, going crazy and about to leave my husband because he didn’t go to the grocery store and in my sleep-deprived-colic-baby-state, that was grounds for divorce.

Today however, long past the crying all night phase, my baby turned six.

And what a six year old he is.

Boaz, for those who don’t know, was a tender man in the Bible. He was kind, loving, merciful and gracious. He took a widow in to his heart and cared for her though she was an alien, poor and came with a mother in law :)

Our Boaz, embodies the Biblical Boaz beautifully. He has a tender, sweet disposition and would rather share and give then take or get. He makes very wise choices for one so young and He listens carefully to our instruction. In a house of rowdy children, he is our calm one. He is our diplomat. He is comforter.

Lately he has asked for more responsibilities. He wants to make dinners and clean up. He likes to teach the others to sign. He takes care of the little ones when I’m busy.

If we put a list together of all the traits we would want in a first born, they would be all that Boaz is.

I’m simply amazed by him and I can’t wait to see what a great young man he turns into.

I remember the phone call.

It was September and the voice on the other end said, “we have to tell you something about your daughter.” The hairs on my arms stood on end. I held my breath. “We think she has a hearing problem.”

Gasp of relief.

My entire body went limp and I smiled, I may have even laughed. “That’s all?” We were asked if we needed to process this information or if we wanted to talk about whether or not we wanted to move forward with the adoption. We didn’t need to think about a thing. She’s our daughter.

She has now been home 1 week shy of 6 months. She is my daughter. She hates mornings as much as I do, she has her brother’s toilet humor, she changes her outfits 10 times a day. I can tell you her favorite foods, what she dislikes, how to make her laugh when she’s grumpy. She lights up when she sees Mary Kelley and will hug Boaz first thing in the morning. She is my daughter.

Today is a day we have been waiting for. Not because of the results, which we knew, but because now we can move forward. She has a Label and I can advocate for her. We are no longer “guessing” but we have facts. Talitha is profoundly deaf.

The audiologist brought me into a room looking somber. Until she spoke my stomach was in knots. Was there a complication? Is she sick? Did she die from the anesthesia. I was near hyperventilating. “Talitha had no auditory response.”

Again, that same sigh of relief came over me. Is that all? She’s not dying? Writhing in pain? Everything went well? Yes. That same smile, that same laugh. She’s fine.

The audiologist kept asking me if I was ok, reassuring me it was normal to be disappointed. I just smiled. I couldn’t be happier. This was not new to me. I am with this child 24 hours a day, 6 days a week. I know she can’t hear. But you know what else I know? She is the smartest child I’ve ever met. She has a vocabulary of 150 signs and can now sign 3 word sentences with ease after only knowing this Language 6 months. Anyone and everyone who meets her is in awe (as they should be!) of her personality, her sense of humor, her language, her ability to make you laugh which transcends Deafness. This girl is precious.

I am in this with her. I am Deaf. I am a Deaf mom. I will make sure she has every opportunity available to her. If she doesn’t have it, I will make it.

I will end on this, before our appointment I talked to Boaz about it. I told him they were going to see if she could hear. Boaz spoke profoundly, “God made her how she is. She is perfect mama.” Yes. Yes she is. So why am I writing this? Because first, so many of you helped get her here, I wanted you to know. You were a part of God’s great plan for rescuing this little girl out of conditions we can’t possibly comprehend. She can survive and flourish with her deafness here. You did more than make a family whole, you gave this girl a future.

Second, because now you have to make a choice. And this is a choice. Will you speak her Language? Will you get to know her? Unlike most children brought over from foreign countries, she cannot learn our language. She will never hear. So it is up to us to learn her language. Are you in?

I have a problem with fighting. That seems odd for most that meet me. I am incredibly laid back, it takes a lot to upset me. But once upset, I have a hard time being submissive or meek. I flash red and there is a good possibility I envision smashing the person through walls.
6 years ago, I was bound by silence. I couldn’t talk to others. Not friends, not family, I lived in a silent, weak world. I was freed from this encompassing silence with the help of group counseling and some amazing sisters in Christ that walked with me, saw into me and encouraged me to grasp the Cross of Christ knowing He mourned the abuse, trauma and torture I had endured and was with me. I didn’t have to walk in shackles of my past. And as the pendulum swings from one extreme from the next I went from silent to loud. One day, many years ago,  Mike and I were having a fight, he made a move towards me that I found aggressive and I jumped up and pushed him back. We laughed about my ninja skills but didn’t address my heart. I couldn’t differentiate an abusive situation and a loving conflict.

I am in a proverbial fight mode.

Very recently I snapped. There were repercussions. We endured through them and pray that we have rectified that which I broke in anger.

This conflict and resolution put to light several sin-issues that had laid dormant in me. It also further realized the great love my family has for one another. My mother is one that her children rise up and call blessed. My sister and I want nothing more than to be just a fraction like her. And if we succeed in just that, we will be satisfied. We do not take her for granted for one second. We realize there are those with mama’s who are dripping faucets and vile. Our mama takes those children in and loves them as their mother should. My mama blesses all those whose lives she enters. This is not lip service. She is a fricken saint.

Many times over these past few months I have been angry with God. How could He have put us in this situation? Why do I keep failing when it comes to keeping my mouth shut? Why can’t I learn this lesson and be done with it!?

Then Matt Chandler set me straight.

“It is not cruel, unjust, or wicked of God to wound you in such a way that it knocks out the prop of self reliance and puts your reliance completely on Him.  It would be far more cruel of God to allow you to continue to prop your self up by means of self reliance because that makes you a slave. And so God disciplines those who He calls sons and scourges all of us those who are His children. It is not cruel of God at all to take from you what might lead to you an eternity of sorrow to give to you sorrow now that leads to an eternity of ever increasing joy. What you have is a lack of trust in the sovereign love of God.”

Instead of clinging to the Lord of Mercy who said:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
 Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
 Blessed are the meek,
for they will inherit the earth.
 Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be filled.
 Blessed are the merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.
 Blessed are the pure in heart,
for they will see God.
 Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they will be called children of God.
 Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

 “Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad,because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”

I let bitterness fester in my heart. I wanted my name to be clear and make those who would hurt us see their wrong doings.  I wanted sympathy from others. I wanted to confront the lies and gossip. I wanted to do all this with a sledge-hammer.

But I want now to be meek. To be humble. To be patient and kind and let the fruit of the spirit dwell in me. To remember what God loves and what He hates and then do only that which would please Him. Not because I believe He will give us an easy life (that ship has sailed) but because if I rest in anything other than Him, be it my flesh or another person, I will be disappointed.

Proverbs 16:28

A perverse person stirs up conflict, and a gossip separates close friends.

I folded laundry for 3 hours today.

That was 3 very long, very agonizing hours. I hate laundry.

During this torturous endeavor my mind kept drifting to Second Chance Adoptions. Something I have never before heard of and wish were untrue.

I can’t stop thinking about those children. Those children that had a home, a family and were abandonded. Then another home and another family and were abandonded again. Instead of helping them, the people who briefly called themselves their parents further exaserbated their sense of safety, their emotional trauma and any good that family did disepated the moment they quit. They. Quit. How does one quit your child? At what point do you decide that you child no longer deserves to be fought for, loved and cherished?

Which leads me to the unfortunate conclusion that the law and the parents believe that adoptive children are not truly family.

These parents chose their biological children over their adoptive child(ren). As an adoptive parent I want nothing more than to squash those horrible ideas of inequality. Talitha is my daughter. My. Daughter. I may not have birthed her and she may not have my eyes but I prayed and cried for her for nearly two years. Far longer than a pregnancy. I can’t see her any other way than that she is mine. And I am hers. And I will fight and bleed for her. Just as I will my other children. Just as I will my husband.

But how is she to ever truly believe that when even the law allows such recklace abandonment to adoptive children. That even after years of being home we can “disrupt” the adoption. Would the law be so lenient if I wanted to abandon my biological children?

I have asked myself what we would have done if Talitha acted in the ways some of those children did. If she would have been sexually aggressive towards us or her brothers. If her biting and hitting didn’t cease. If she didn’t form an attachment to us. Ever. Would we have just given up? Came to the conclusion that she was no longer worth fighting for and end our relationship? Would we do that with our biological children?

My mother is an example of how relentless love change a family. I was a sullen, smart-mouthed, mean teenager. Perhaps child too but I can’t remember that far. I said horrible things to her and acted out by emotionally withdrawing myself from them. Yes, I was abused and yes, my actions reflected that, but let’s not gloss over my ill behavior or how painful it must have been for my parents.

When I was 20 and my agoraphobia made it impossible for me to leave the house, my mama, my sweet mother, would drive me to school, two hours out of her way. Everyday. To make sure I continued my education. One that they paid for. When I hyperventilated she was the first with the paper-baggy. When I woke her up in the middle of the night crying, she just held me. She never asked for my love in return. She was simply loving me, her unlovely child. Though she didn’t know Christ at the time, she reflected Him Gloriously.  She never gave up on me and I pray I will show my children the same unwavering compassion she did me.

I don’t envy the struggles those families went through. It is by God’s Grace alone that the transition with Talitha has been so fruitful. Notice I didn’t say easy. But she has flourished in the short time she has been home. Right now, she is sleeping soundly on my lap with a sweet smile on her face. I kiss her forehead and move her hair bow out of the way. I am her mother. I will fight for her until the day I die.


**Another great blog about Second Chance Adoptions can be found here.

I wrote this blog 5 weeks ago. I posted it for 5 minutes before I took it down, still not feeling able to share the struggles we’ve gone through. After talking with a lovely friend, she encouraged me to put it up. So here it is:

I have been postponing writing this blog.

I’ve actually written it twice. I’ve deleted it twice. It just didn’t feel right.

When a new mother births her infant the first post is usually the birth story. How everything happened; the meal before the first contraction, the first contraction, the water breaking, the verbalizing, the amazing heavenly experience of meeting your child for the first time. The next post however, that is the real post. The sleep deprived, bad latch, postpartum post that all experienced mama’s can relate to.

My fear in writing this blog is that I do not know very many mama’s who can relate to a post-adoption blog and I, in no way, shape or form want to give the wrong impression of what has been going on. That because of these trials and heart breaks I love my daughter any less or that I regret adopting her. Nothing could be further from the truth! But when we (adoptive parents) labor, fundraise, pray, break down to get our children here – I don’t feel that we can be as honest about the struggles when they do finally arrive as our biological parent counter part.

So I waited.

I waited until after the storm to write this post, because I did want to write it. Reading Megan Terry’s honest and open blog about her post-adoptive struggles is what prepared me that after Talitha came home, it may not be sunshine and rainbows right away. I want to make sure that I can be as honest about adoption as my predecessors.

Talitha is an amazing, smart, hilarious little girl. Her personality is as big as a house. She can’t not light up the room when she enters it. When she feels safe you see a side to her that is magic. I just want to eat her up. She truly is absolutely perfect for our family. But getting to this point has been very very hard. Hard in a way that I’ve not had to experience before.

I can’t describe the pain in watching your child, your happy, silly, cuddly child turn into a vacant shell. One who will not look at you and which is the only way that you can communicate with them.

This lasts for hours.

Everytime we left the house Talitha just… went away. She didn’t talk or smile. She didn’t make eye contact. I felt helpless.

I feel that some of the post-adoption adjustment issues were compounded by her deafness. While with a hearing child you could coo and talk to soothe the frightened traumatized child, with a deaf child if they chose not too look at you they are cutting off the only communication you have. So I sat. I held her.

I cried into her bald head.

It took 3 weeks before we could leave the house without her regressing.

Also, whenever we hung around friends she would climb into the lap of someone else (usually a woman) and play with them. She would let them hold her, tickle her; she would become the center of attention by charming everyone around her, all the while not looking at me, ignoring me, and occasionally, shot me a glance that said, “Look at the attention I’m getting! I don’t need or want you.”  (The very first time she DIDN’T do this was 2 days ago [2 months 1 week post-adoption] however she since has done it every time we’ve had a play date [twice]. She still does this with Mike every. single. day.)

Then there was the physical illness. So very many. The worse being impetigo that left her buns, legs and stomach covered with open oozing sores. She could barely walk due to the pain. And even though I saw her limp and knew how badly she was hurt, she was smiling. Ear to ear. I would later find out she also had a double ear infection and sinus infection.

From all her contagious diseases I ended up catching the parasites, ring worm and lice. Her lice was so bad that even after 2 treatments she still had live bugs coming out of her curls. We ended up shaving her head.

Then there were the night terrors. 6-12 times a night she woke up screaming. If you’ve never heard a deaf child scream, I truly can’t convey how loud and horrifying it is. One night as I held her I put a pillow over my own head to bear the intense volume of her cries. At first not even my closeness would calm her down, thankfully, all I need to do now is grab her quickly and hug her and she calms, quickly falling back asleep. There are even some nights when she doesn’t wake up at all. (At 2 months post-adoption Talitha stopped needing me to lay with her to go to sleep and she doesn’t wake up at all anymore.)

For the first few weeks she also wouldn’t let me put her down without hyperventilating. I remember one day vividly. Michael was working and I had a crying Mary Kelley in one hand, a crying Talitha in another, the boys were fighting and I had a pizza in the oven that was burning. I have never felt more overwhelmed than in that moment.

Ultimately I look back and realize it’s only been a month. It could have been so much worse. And the strides that she has made are huge! She’s basically a little 20 lb thing climbing the mount Everest of emotional disorders. New family, new continent, new language, new everything! (Her language is an entire post on it’s own!)

I will finish by saying this. Adoption is amazing. God makes it abundantly clear how important it is to Him. But let us not gloss over the intense loss the orphan must deal with. This child lost her family. At a very young age they abandoned her. She was forced to live with a hundred other children in conditions too poor to comprehend by an American mind. Then she was put with yet another family. A family she bonded too and loved and ultimately was taken from them. Given to a new family. A family that didn’t look like her. A place that is unfamiliar. So when you see a family with an adopted child out and about, think before you say how “awesome it is that they were adopted”. Think of the loss and pain the child must have endured to get to this family and respect what the family could be dealing with.

I remember the night very clearly. It was May 2010, we asked the family we lived with if we could talk with them – we had very important news. 

Mike just blurted it out. “God told us we have a daughter in the Congo.” And just like that, our lives were changed forever. 

We cried, they shed tears. We knew. There was not a doubt in our minds that God was calling us to adopt from the DRC. We didn’t know if our daughter was even born yet (she was) or how old she was (2 mos) but we knew. 

God’s plan was huge. He took care of all the details – the only agency I felt comfortable with, accepted us as their last family. The only social worker I called was  Christian who made me feel comfortable and taken care of. The money just came in. All the initial payments practically took care of themselves. It was impossible to deny that God was working in this. 

Over these past 22 mos, I’ve been “holding my breath” as my mama says. While walking in Obeidience to what God had called us to, I was secretly waiting for it to blow up in our faces. I didn’t dare get too attached. After losing 4 babies through miscarriage, I am a close companion with the heartache of losing a child I didn’t yet know. Friends asked me if I was getting excited… and honestly… I wasn’t. I couldn’t imagine the day I would hold my daughter. It was a far fetched reality that I didn’t grasp. 

I have talked to dozens of adoptive parents since that May of 2010 and dozens have lost referrals. Some lost those children to death. Some brought their children home only to lose them. My heart was gaurded. 

For 20 months I didn’t buy anything for my eldest daughter. Even when we were given the most amazing gift of $10,000 I still held her at bay. 

Why have I not blogged about this journey? A couple of reasons, the first being that I didn’t want anyone to know where my heart was. People looked to me and asked “so when is she coming home!!!” and I would smile and say “whenever God brings her!” or something similar. When truly, I doubted she was ever going to come home. I felt like I was lying to our Church when we talked about her. God couldn’t really entrust this beautiful girl to me! There are so many amazing mamas, far better than I, that should take care of her. Maybe God was just using us to allow another family to adopt her, or maybe God would “smarten up” and give her to someone else. My doubt could have filled the Grand Canyon. . 

Second, I had no idea what to say. The ups and downs of adoption make the most amazing roller coasters look tame. Some days everything was going as smooth as silk, other days… well… other days we learned she had malaria, that she was deaf, that our paperwork wasn’t in order or that our paperwork was late. I would see our caseworker calling and anxiety would sweep over me. 

But, I am breathing. The anxiety is replaced with utter elation and joy. I have well made up for the time I didn’t buy her anything as her room is now full of dolls, clothes, doll houses, my little ponies and anything girly the Lynnwood Value Village carried. The trials, pain and heartache the past 2 years brought is forgotten. As a new mom forgets the pain of childbirth, I have already forgotten the pain of adoption. 

In 2 hours Michael and Talitha will be on a plane heading to Seattle. In 8 hours I will have my daughter in my arms. Today she is coming home. 


This is a day in my life. Read the rest of this entry »

I remember when I was the perfect parent. I was newly pregnant with my first child, I had read every Christian parenting book (and a few great secular recommendations) I could get my hands on, we had settled with a natural birth, cloth diapers, breast feeding, no sugar life. Oh I was amazing. I knew that all it took to train children was consistency and that if I loved Jesus, read them the Bible and took them to Church I was a shoe in to have perfect children.

Are you throwing up yet?

Three kids later I am grasping at those ideals. Why didn’t they work? Weren’t we endlessly and tirelessly consistent?? Did we not read the Bible to them from six-weeks on? Don’t we have 34874 conversations about Jesus every day [usually focused on Philippians 2:3 and Ephesians 6:1]? Why is it that my boys still smack each other with toys, push one another over, throw fits when they don’t get their way and [my favorite] tell me to “stop talking”.

Where did we go wrong?

We [Christian culture or perhaps parents in general] are inundated with the how-tos of parenting. Do this and you will have godly children. Follow this book, be consistent, don’t give them sugar and your children will obey and sing songs and repent quickly. For the past two years Mike and I have fought and struggled and bloodied ourselves for our kids, desperate for these promises we were given. Not by Scripture mind you, but by authors who had good children and parents whose children came out well.

But there is Proverbs, specifically Proverbs 22:6 which has been a hanging dagger over our heads. We love it, revile it, cling to it, are desperate for it’s “promise”. But so far… our boys are still… well… boys. They have more energy than an army of energizer bunnies, are louder than a fog horn and destroy anything in their paths. We “practice” sitting each day because, truly, that is something they need to practice! And guess what, they still can’t sit for more than 5 minutes [Gideon peaks at 2].

Now, I know not all children are as… lively… as ours. For instance, most girls are completely the opposite. I’ve watched them. I am astounded. But I won’t assume parents of girls don’t feel the same frustrations (just differently) that I do.

Scripture does talk to parents. It tells us what we need to do, to “train up our children”. But the promise is not that they will be godly… I know what 22:6 says, but that isn’t a promise, it is a likely outcome based on the preceding events. Proverbs is a book about how we should live and what generally follows those actions, but we live in a fallen world and following Scripture doesn’t equal a perfect life [although it does lead to a perfect after life and joy through Christ]. Jesus tells us that distinctly, Matthew 10:22 “You will be hated by everyone because of me, but the one who stands firm to the end will be saved.” Hated by everyone – that includes our children, parents, friends, co-workers. We can train up our children, but their hearts are God’s alone. We can train up our children but they are still little sinners who make their own [sinful] choices. There is nothing I can do on this earth to make my boys love Jesus or obey my commands. That doesn’t mean I won’t read them their Bible or pray for their salvation, but it puts their salvation in the right hand – Jesus’.

2 Timothy 3:1-3

 1 But mark this: There will be terrible times in the last days. 2 People will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boastful, proud, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, 3 without love, unforgiving, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not lovers of the good.”

Doesn’t that sound a lot like now? Honestly that sounds a lot like me on any given day and I’m 28 [compared to 2,3 and 4], I love Jesus and love my mama. But I’m still a sinner. And I still have a sinful wicked heart.

I love my boys. I want them to know and love Jesus with all I have in me. But I can’t put their salvation on myself. It’s not mine to give. All I can do is love Jesus, be the mother He created me to be with the talents He’s given me, and pray that I am wise in my decision making. But I assure you, just because my boys watch TV, or if I don’t discipline them for every misstep, or yell [remember, I’m a sinner] that doesn’t mean I’ve jacked them up for good. God is bigger than my faults. He’s much bigger than everything I do right too.

I am so worn down with having this burden of their salvation and obedience on my shoulders. And I’ve come to realize that’s because it’s not my burden to bear.

My burden is to love them. Cherish them. Protect them. Train them. Guide them. Bring them up in the Lord. Not to save them.

So I will let go of unbiblical teaching of salvation by parent and embrace Jesus as all in all. That He is bigger than my parenting methodology or latest fad book and He will work out all to the good of His Saints.

*Here are two great resources for like-minded teaching:

Mother’s Day is one of my favorite days. I love celebrating my amazing mom (she rocks) and reflecting on what my life is as a mother, a title I am humbled to hold. While many people have children, motherhood is much more than bearing kids.

This Mother’s Day finds me awaiting 2 new lives into our family. One through adoption and one through birth. Both should be here in less 6 months.  I don’t know what a family of 5 kids, 1 dog and 13 chickens looks like but I am heavily aware what chaos looks like. I can only assume it is similar.

In our current chaos motherhood seems like never ending discipline, diapers, pasta and cherrios; unmatching socks and piles of laundry; a fit of “nos” and “I don’t wannas”; nap times, toy story 3 and curious george. Somedays my job description is anything but glorious. But there is also those times of bliss and Justin Beiber melodies that make me forget how many poopy diapers I’ve changed and instead want to be no where else. It’s the kisses and hugs, the “thank you so very much for saving me” speeches, the belly laughs and tickle fights, the fighting over who gets to sit with mama, the baby feet and holding hands. Motherhood is conflicting.

And I’ve been conflicted. Last week was bad. And by bad I mean colds, migraines, pregnancy symptoms on top of a laundry list of work I “have” to be doing. I’ve had chronic migraine for 10 years, but have only thrown up during a migraine three times, twice being this week alone. Mike has worked God-knows-how-many hours, all I know I saw him Monday and Friday evening and unfortunately Friday was my migraine-puke-fest and not the romantic night I had anticipated.

It’s easy to throw a Sue Sylvester pity party and OD on gummy vitamins after the 2nd meal of the day the boys refuse to eat (yet asked for), you can’t hold anything down and you have 700 pictures to edit, a book to finish and more adoption paperwork that you even want to admit is left.

If your children are what keeps you going, you will run out of gas fast.

Children make crappy gods.

And if your plugging in to anything than the Life giving Blood of Christ, you will burn out, unfulfilled and disappointed. Children are a joy and motherhood is a blessing (poopy diapers, fits and all) but motherhood cannot fulfill you the way Jesus can. And serving the Lord through motherhood can make even the most chaotic households full of joy (I speak through experience on that one).

So let me worship the Lord through loving the children He’s given me. Not because they are my idols but because they are my blessings. Let me sing Him praise for their unceasing energy and lack of “mute” button. Let me encourage their imaginative play even when that means my tongs are used to fight evil. I ask for wisdom in how to guide these boys in becoming Godly men. But most importantly, certainly centrally, I pray that I can keep my eyes on Jesus, something that I forgot this week, and let my children be children and God be God without confusing the two, and through the power of Jesus be the mother He designed me to be.

Blogging has become less and less apart of our lives and this week, I realized why. The closer I get to my Lord and Savior the more I realize my life is not about me and the less I desire to talk about myself. I am sure others can, without stumbling, blog to the Glory of God, but I cannot. And therefore this year I cannot in good conscience write a Christmas letter about our lives, our family & our deeds without fulfilling the pride within myself that loves talking about myself. Beloved, many of you know of our conquests in Christ and our struggles with our flesh – what would the fruit of self-centered meanderings be but to satisfy the flesh that I desperately want to kill.

 So,I shall preach Jesus and Him crucified.

I am blessed and thankful that this year closes and we are sitting at our Masters’ feet. We hear His voice clearly and are thirsty for the Living Water. Oh dear Jesus that we may have more of you.

He has restored our family into His kingdom, His law is like honey to our lips, He has blessed us by His Word and His Rod and His Staff comfort us. We delight in serving Him and His bride and ask that we may Glorify Him and Him only.

Dear ones, have you run into the arms of our Great Counselor? For our God is not a God who doesn’t understand our sufferings. Whatever we have gone or will be going through pales to the brutality of the Cross. Are you anxious? Lay it down. Our Saviour sweat blood in obedience to the Father so that we may be anxious no more. Is your soul downcast? Rejoice! For those who mourn are blessed. Has pride consumed you? Kill it so that your Heavenly Father does not hide His face from you.

Are you in love with Jesus? Does He consume your thoughts and actions? Friends may it be so! Let us dwell on the Love of the Cross and His Eternal Grace so that we will lack nothing.

Church, let us pray this new year brings a revival to our hearts, one that seeks proclaim the name of Christ and obediently lays down our lives for Him. Let us love one another out of the outpouring of our love for the Father. Let us serve one another humbly, considering others better than ourselves, so that Christ may fully be Glorified.

Put death to sins that reign! Walk in the light as He is in the light so we may have fellowship with one another and the blood of Jesus purifies us from all sin. He will remember your sins no more, so turn from that which is death so you may have Eternal Life with Him.

I love you all deeply, may this year bring about His Glory

in Jesus’ Fame

the nelsons

Team Nelson History


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