The Lord has graciously begun to restore a gift to me this Christmas season. One I didn’t even realize how much I missed until a glimpse once again emerged. It’s the gift of tears. The gift of tenderness.

Yes… it’s springing up again… I cry when I pray. I cry when I worship. I cry when I think upon Him. Sweet tenderness. Yes, tears do make my heart soft.

This, of course, is different than the hormonal, moody crying that hits me hard when I’m newly pregnant… although I don’t discount that… I believe the Lord can use whatever natural circumstances He desires to restore tenderness. This, though, is a grace for worship.

There have been seasons in my life where the tears have some more swiftly and easily than others. I think I may have cried before Him nearly every day I was in the prayer room in Kansas City. There was a distinct season where the tears flowed during worship at Victory. I didn’t see it as much of a gift then. I was keenly aware that those tears made me look like a wreck… a mess… a basket case. Once in awhile is sweet, but every week? Every time? That hard?

And then there were the questions of well meaning onlookers. Are you okay? What’s wrong? Pressure to give circumstantial evidence of internal misery. Many times I caved. After all, there was always something that was going on that was true, though not the actual cause of the tears. And giving that reason was much easier to dish out. What else could I say? I, um, just cry when I pray. When I worship. I know I look like a mess, but it’s a gift, really it is.

I have an ounce more revelation now.

My prayers fill bowls and my tears fill bottles.

Those bottles are my anointing oil, my perfume to pour out at His feet.

These tear ducts have been dry for over a year now… and then there was a drizzle… and then a flood… a birth. And my heart is soft again and tender. Thank You Jesus.

After finally listening to the Power of a Focused life series by Mike Bickle, it took Kevin all of a few hours to formulate his life goal/mission statement/life vision… whatever you want to call it. I, however, spent weeks trying to pin down exactly what I’m going for. I want to do everything. Almost literally. Look at me! I can raise children, pour into corporate ministry, write a novel, make meals for others, write an encouraging note, write curriculum for multiple age groups, keep my house clean and read my 10 chapters of the Bible a day all with a joyful, flowing, worshiping heart! (Oh an why don’t I write some children’s books while I’m at it) Right? Or maybe not. But I want to.

The truth is I drop balls left and right. My house is… not often very clean. Not gross and germ infested, but not tidy and chipper. I’ve been trying to start on my “new” novel for… 9 months? I just can’t seem to get around to it. I really have been meaning to write those notes/emails/cards, but… And though I’m not naturally a procrastinator (quite the opposite actually), I always seem to be scrambling the week before a conference or a new class to get those ideas down on paper.

BUT the desire is there. In my heart I want to love Him well, and therefore others well, but what does that look like? Truly I desire fruitfulness.

I am one of those people who possibly cried if I got a 98% in school, just knowing I could have got 100%. (Boy that sounds conceited. Bear with me). So when I consider the parable of the sower and realize my fruitfulness options are 0%, 30%, 60% or 100% (Matthew 13 if you’re lost) … my goodness I eagerly desire the perfect score. He’s looking for fruitfulness. It brings Him honor and glory. And I want it!

I know. I know. It’s a marathon. There are different seasons in life. Fruitfulness is not all about doing, but mostly about loving well. I just want to be careful. There is a lurking temptation among believers to get around the whole “take up your cross and follow Me” thing by saying “I’m not called to that”. Sorry.. I would really love to give to the poor, but I just don’t have that gifting. I would love to help the orphans, but that’s just not my gift. Sorry, I don’t have the gift of hospitality. Evangelism. Even prayer! Etc., etc., etc. I do believe in giftings and I believe that God has given us all different annointings and power allies, don’t get me wrong. But we can’t use those things to skirt around Biblical mandates.

I have (finally) come to the conclusion that I can’t do everything. I’m not Jesus. Not the Holy Spirit. I am no one’s god. But still… I want to be fruitful.

Listening to the Bible on the way home from work a couple weeks ago, this verse hit me. And now it’s my life vision verse.

They said to Him, “He will destroy those wicked men miserably, and lease his vineyard to other vinedressers who will render to him the fruits in their seasons.” Matthew 21:41.

Okay, there’s a whole context here I won’t get into. (Ha!) The part that hit me was render to Him the fruits in their seasons. Oh! That’s what I want to do! I want to be a vinedresser that renders to God the fruits in their seasons.  Whatever season I am in, I want to render the fruit to Him. I must, therefore, be in close communion with Him to be able to discern what season I am in. Then, I must die to myself (unless a seed falls into the ground and dies…) , let the Holy Spirit produce fruit in me, and render that fruit to the Lord.

It sounds simple, I know. But it really struck me. I want to produce every fruit in every season. But what He’s looking for is each fruit in it’s own season. There will be a day when the trees (and I believe everything else) will be abundantly fruitful in every single season. (Rev. 22:2 – each month a different fruit… no more barren Winters!) but until then some seasons are going to inherently look more fruitful than others. Some seasons may look dead, but that rest is going to bring forth life.

In every season, whether running hard in ministry or not, communion with Him – prayer and the Word- must be TOP priority. A tree can’t bear fruit with out water. So, if you trip over 18 different shoes when you come to my house, just know I must drink deep. I can pray and listen to the Word while cleaning and going about my day, but for me those are little sips that sustain me throughout the day. I have to drink deep. I can’t multitask my way through that.

So, to each his season. And to the Lord all the fruit.

Well, it’s been nearly a month since we received the shock of the rejection letter.  In the first week or so, my heart was so torn. Looking back at the letter, it had an outright lie in it, which made me want to fight it. I would go back and forth between fighting and forgetting, pressing forward and waiting. I cried for about a week straight. Letting go for me wouldn’t mean letting go of the promise of the 3, but letting go of “this is that”… of that little boy who I thought might be the fulfillment of the promise. Letting go of how absolutely perfect that testimony would have been. Letting go of those heart dreams.

We’ve come to this conclusion: The Lord will fulfill His promise. And it will have to be HIM that will do so. We could try to push through doors that are nearly closed… we could grit our teeth in determination and fight with all of our strength. But we feel that God is saying to wait on Him. To watch and see His right hand fulfill what He has spoken. We have no idea how He’s going to do this, but we believe now more than ever that He will. We can do nothing in our own strength. We must wait for the grace of the Lord.

God made it so that we can’t get away… can’t forget His promises. It’s in our address (311 – He will be sending 3 to us). It’s on our checks (a monogram of a house with one girl and two boys in it).  As we wait upon Him He will renew our strength.

God is not afraid of the appearance of defeat. He isn’t afraid people might think He’s unfaithful to His promises. Look at the cross. He wasn’t afraid to look like a complete failure. And our hope is in the resurrection.

I will have a song, a testimony, to bring to the house of the Lord.

Until then, we will shift with the seasons. A new season is coming upon us. A new assignment. He is faithful in every season. He is always good.

I wasn’t expecting a letter. I wasn’t expecting what it said. We – WE – were denied a license to foster. Becoming licensed to foster was going to be a huge step forward in our journey towards adoption. That has to happen first before you can be licensed to adopt through the system. And now? Well, it feels like the death of a dream. It feels like a miscarriage of the heart. It could be worse. We could have been farther along in the process.

Now this happened this morning, just a few hours ago, so I’m sure as some time passes I will have different thoughts about it all.  Right now I’m still shocked. In our last meeting she made it seem like everything was going to go through fine.

The excuse they gave was ridiculous. Anyone can see that. They were looking for a reason to deny us all along. Though they were probably looking for a better one, they settled for some obscure wording in the psych eval… The psych eval clearly stated I do not have bipolar, depression, any other diagnosis and that he would recommend us to be adoptive parents. When I called him to ask about the strange wording in the eval, he said it was just professional terminology and that if they had any questions they could call him and he would give us a glowing recommendation. Of course they wouldn’t bother calling.

It just seems so ridiculous. Yes, deny people with shady criminal history, people with actual diagnoses, people who children would not be safe with. But deny a happily married couple who have experience working with children of all ages and abilities, parents who have proven they can love and nurture their own children… I mean come on? I have a degree in education. I have a paper saying I have no diagnosis of anything abnormal. I have a clean bill of health (mental and physical). They have 1400 children in the system who are right now waiting for someone who is willing to adopt them, and they’re turning us away. Ridiculous!

We could appeal. We could fight it. We could plead our case with a different agency… but we both feel like we should let it lie for now. Take a deep breath and wait on the Lord.

Here’s my current processing of these events. No, we did not hear wrong. I am fully convinced in my heart that when we debated giving up when the process started to get rough, the Lord encouraged us time and time again to continue on. Just as He encouraged us not to give up on the house, and to press through all of the drama, He encouraged us to press through the opposition. For whatever reason, He did so knowing we’d hit a dead end. Yet He wanted us to keep going anyway. God is not solely about a destination, but about the journey.  There was something for us in the journey, though it would end abruptly. There was something that transpired in the Spirit from us pressing through. Perhaps we cut down a few branches to make a clearer path for others. I really don’t know what went on this past almost year in the invisible realms. Someday we’ll find out and we’ll see so clearly the wisdom of His leadership.

I still believe that there are three adopted children coming to our home. I believe there will be a Harvest Hanks. Maybe a year from now, maybe ten or more, but they’re coming. How long did Abraham wait for his promise of Isaac?  Perhaps they’re not coming through the system. Perhaps they’ll come a different way. Perhaps everything will be different ten years down the road… maybe the rules will change, the system will change, everything will change.

It looks like we’ll just have to bear this ache a little longer.

God is the most perfect leader. His leadership over our lives is absolutely with out fault. We will cling to Him. We will lean on Him. And when it’s all said and done, we will have a testimony of His faithfulness to His promises. Just you wait and see.

Five years ago on October 16, I began the most incredible journey of marriage. What a 5 years! I just wanted to take some time to HONOR my husband, who I am still crazy in love with.

First off… he’s still here! And he’s seen EVERYTHING about me. The worst of the worst. It’s easy to seem respectable on facebook, but it’s entirely different to see the day to day ugliness of my weak, broken flesh and still look into my eyes and declare beauty. Seriously! I’m not the most easy going, whatever-you-say, quiet, joyful wife and yet he has repeatedly not only “put up with” me but loved me well through it all, speaking truth and life to me. What an amazing man!

It has taken us 5 years to finally get to the place where I can honestly say that Kevin is the head of our home. It has been hard for me to give up the reigns of control. We’re not perfect in our roles for sure, but we’ve made incredible leaps of improvement. He leads WELL. He’s not overbearing or controlling, but he does lead. He takes my thoughts, feelings and opinions to heart and leads from a very Biblical perspective.

He’s a covering for me, an inspiration to me… the one who keeps me going when I want to give up. If you’ve ever benefited from anything I’ve done/said/written, you need to thank HIM. I couldn’t do what I do with out him. He is my coach and my support.

He’s so faithful. And by that I don’t just mean he doesn’t cheat on me (which is true, thank God) but that he’s faithful in the little things. He’s faithful in his intentions. He’s faithful to protect our marriage. He’s faithful to fight for me. He’s faithful to protect me. He’s faithful.

He is a good provider. I know he doesn’t feel like it because he doesn’t make a big hourly wage, but everywhere he’s worked, he’s worked hard and it’s paid off. He’s been faithful at his job, doing his work unto God and not unto men and because of his diligence (coupled of course with the Lord’s mercy) we’ve never missed a meal or a bill. He works HARD and WELL and after all that, he still comes home and pours himself out for our children and me.

He’s an amazing, amazing, amazing father. He’s playful, fun, but knows how to maintain order in our home. He’s leading our children into godliness. He changes diapers. He does the dishes. He does the wash. He cooks dinner. He puts the children to bed. He prays with them and for them. He’s amazing.

And he loves the Lord. He’s a man of the Word. He’s a man who loves to worship God and gaze upon His beauty. He’s a man of prayer. He’s a man who, when I mention that I’m going on a fast for a personal area of victory in my life does not hesitate to fast with me and for me.

So, thank you Kevin! You are the greatest husband I could ever ask for. Thank you for all of the laughs and fun we’ve had these 5 years and for being a support through times of difficulty. I thank God for you!

Ahhh… I finally get a minute to write these thoughts down. The sweet, sweet kindness of my God.

A couple weeks ago, Hadessah and I had the honor of going to NC for a dear friend’s b-day retreat. She booked the ticket for us, and I was thankful not to have to navigate that part of it. I was so frazzled to be flying with out Kevin to navigate, and when I saw the itinerary, I was even more of a wreck. We were to switch planes in Atlanta.

Wow. Okay, some history here. The last time I was in the airport in Atlanta was a very bad, shameful experience. Thinking of that instance always brings back that same since of shame. I flew in to visit my boyfriend at the time who lived in Atlanta. It was a spur of the moment decision, with talk of running away together. We were caught, and that one instance is what spiraled into a diagnosis of bipolar for myself, getting booted out of the college dorms (and thus the college) and sent home completely humiliated and totally offended.

Of course, I’ve so moved on with my life! After some wandering along my own path, I returned to the Lord. Now I’m happily married with 3 amazing children. I am in a much deeper, richer place with the Lord. I LOVE my life and what I get to do with the children at GHOP. I’ve gotten to pursue writing. Yes, though I looked like the world’s greatest failure at that point in my life, God turned it around. But still, the thought of setting foot in that airport again left a bad feeling in my gut.

The Lord, who orchestrated my flight itinerary last month, did not AVOID this feeling of shame, but CONFRONTED  and COVERED it. It was a great honor to be invited to this retreat. Now, instead of the memory of that day long ago, when I think of that airport, I will think of the honor of this friendship, the delight of spending some girl time with Hadessah, and I will probably always recall the way she threw a fit in Wendy’s there because they were out of yogurt.

You see, I’ve asked God to TAKE AWAY that memory from me because it was so painful. He didn’t do that. Instead He COVERED my shame.  His love COVERS a multitude of sins. His love COVERS bad memories. His love COVERS me.

Esther came before Xerxes with a request: revoke the decree. Please, just take it away. Make it like it never happened. And yet, Xerxes wouldn’t revoke the decree. Instead, he told Esther to write her own decree to COVER the old shame-filled one. And on that day they had joy instead of shame.

My God is so kind. So tender. There is no one like Him. What other God loves like this? What other God cares enough to orchestrate our lives so beautifully, giving beauty that covers our ashes? What other God pursues with his love? There is none like Him. No other fiery, passionate, gentle Lover of men.

Thank you God.

I stopped writing about these kinds of instances because it seemed, from other people’s comments to me, that they were more of a discouragement than an encouragement. (They may somehow paint a picture that all is perfect in the Hanks’ house and therefore make other peoples’ lack of perfection more evident. Please be assured though, that our home is imperfect and weak. I am imperfect and weak. Our children are… children. Okay… end of disclaimer)

We started having nightly Family Altar Time when Kiah was a baby. We’ve added the dimension of Bible time, harp and bowl, prayer walls, etc. as time has gone on, but when we first started, it was just some songs and praying over each other. (Lead _____’s heart into the love of God and the patience of Christ. Open up their eyes to see You.) We’ve been singing the same songs for over two years: Jesus Loves Me, Jesus Loves the Little Children (in rap), Praise Jesus (a simple little song Kevin made up), I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart, How He Loves Us and Come Lord Jesus Come (Technically All Who Are Thirsty, but we only sang the chorus) . So, our time was dominated by little child sunday school songs, which may surprise those of you who know me. There’s nothing wrong with them, but… I’m not a big fan of those types of songs as a whole. However, that’s just where we were at that point in time when we started this routine. And since children thrive on consistency, we’ve just kept singing the same songs every night.

Then last night Hadessah – NOT ME, but my daughter – canned the routine and began singing in her sweet little voice “The Spirit and the bride say come! We say come!” (from a Misty Edwards song)Hezekiah joined in quickly. Hadessah began dancing gracefully (as opposed to just silly dancing) and Hezekiah sobered up from his silly state. We joined in and just kept singing and singing it over and over again.

The presence of God came so thick in the room. It was time for them to go to bed, but we kept singing. Then we got quiet. Quiet in my house is nearly unheard of.  I put my hand on my heart and told the children to be still and see if they could feel the Holy Spirit touching their hearts because He was touching mine. They smiled and nodded. Then we began singing “Come and let Your presence fill our praise, fill our praise. Come and let Your presence fill this place”. We sang that for a long time. Then we had them listen for the Holy Spirit’s voice. I felt His pleasure so strong. When I asked Hadessah what the Holy Spirit told her she said “He said that song was good!” I told her He said the same thing to me… that He is pleased with our worship and He likes it in our house because we welcome Him.

More Lord! More of Your presence in our home!

I lay awake last night thinking about Harvest again. Where is he? How is he? Is he getting enough to eat? Is he well taken care of? Am I crazy?

Yes, here we are again believing for something that is ludicrous in the natural… aching for the fulfilment of a promise. Groaning on the inside because our family isn’t complete with out him… with out these 3.  Getting impatient, then chiding myself for it. Wondering when. Wishing I could look down at a pregnant belly and see progress in this process… a true, visable sign that our family will indeed expand.

Sometimes I just want to get pregnant again and forget this whole thing. To dull this ache. And yet if we were to do that intentionally, we’d just have to name the child Ishmael. And since that doesn’t start with an H, we’re back to waiting for something that is utterly impossible with out God orchestrating things behind the scenes.

If “this is that”… if the boy that was on my mom’s case is indeed our Harvest, he’s a couple months younger than Hosanna. Which means he’ll be walking soon (though Hosanna seems content to never take a step).  Which would mean that the time is drawing near. He’ll be a toddler soon.  Oh Lord, bring him home.

For all of this to happen the way we feel God is saying it will, he will of course have to re-enter the system. Which would mean there’s be a reason for it. Abuse. Neglect. Something. So, even though I know that this has to happen in order for him to come to us, I keep praying for God to protect him (his birth name means God will protect). Keep him safe. Shield him. Surround him with angels. It reminds me of the end times… knowing certain things have to happen and yet praying for His mercy.

I don’t quite know how to hold my heart. I don’t want to covet another woman’s child. I pray for the mother too, but not as often and as fervently yet. In my dream I grew in compassion towards her. So, I fully expect God to do a work in my heart towards her.

We haven’t resumed the home study process yet. We’re working on scheduling our next meeting. We’re getting things ready. We have plenty of room now. Come home Harvest. Come home.

I sit here, in our 6 bedroom beauty of a house, uterlly amazed at the goodness of God. He said He would do it and He did it. My faithful God. This is so crazy. We not only have a house, but a house with a lot of room to fill with whatever children God sends our way. With the fatherless, the orphan, the hurting. Us! If you knew our income, you’d think it uterlly impossible. And yet He did it. And He did it well.

When we secured the loan in Kevin’s income alone, we thought the battle was over. Ha! Add a lying sellers agent, a crazy Bosnian hit man, a ton of repairs, a crabby administrator of the county closing cost grant, hoops and loops galore, having to leave our apartment before the house was ready, having a cozy two weeks sharing a room with Hadessah, moving the day the Fiery Youth Intensive begins and you get the picture of what a crazy process this has all been. Up until fifteen minutes before we were supposed to close, we still didn’t know if it was going to go through or fall through. God told me it would be a “fight to the death”, and indeed it was. I can’t even begin to recount it all here, and I don’t really want to go back there. That’s over!

I am just so encouraged.  I thought throughout the whole process that all of the drama was resistance from the enemy and we stuck to that mindset. When everyone was advising us to back out, that all of this meant God didn’t want us to have the house, that we should look for a different house and not put ourselves through all of it, we kept on going. I wasn’t entirely confident that we were doing the right thing, but felt enough confirmation not to give up. And our persistance was rewarded so generously. Like Misty sings “Don’t give up. Don’t Give in. If you don’t quit, you win, you win.” Thank You Jesus!

Through all of this God has taught me to not underestimate the battle. There is a war going on between light and darkness. We tend to forget that in our day to day lives. We live as if there was no war. Not only is it there, it’s intense.

There is something about taking land that makes the enemy rage. We bought this house from a devout Muslim family. We took ground in the natural, and in the Spirit as well. Property was conveyed from the kingdom of darkness to the kingdom of light. Taking ground. Entering the land. Dispossessing. It’s not a light thing. Not to be underestimated. A fight to the death.

I have many more thoughts about all of this, not all of them solidified enough to put into words. Suffice to say, I am swelling with gratitude. My God is mighty to save. He is strong to deliver. His leadership is perfect. As we follow step by baby step, He leads us into fullness. Amen!

The kids and I were out at dinner tonight and got a compliment that really made my day.

“Your kids are really well behaved. You don’t see that much anymore.”

Oh my goodness I wanted to bear hug that old man. I haven’t gotten a compliment on the kids’ behavior in over a year, I think. Most of the time I get those “get control of your kids” looks from people… or maybe I’m just paranoid and insecure, but I just want to say “I’m trying, really I am, but see I have 3 little kids and only 2 hands, so you’re just going to have to cut me some slack.” My mom thinks we’re too strict with them. Sometimes I feel like we’re not strict enough. We’re really trying to be consistent, to mean what we say, to follow through, to not overlook or play down rebellion (which the Bible says is like witchcraft)… but really the bottom line is that these little people are…. people… and I have they have their own minds and feelings and will and I can’t control them like a puppeter.  99% of the time I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing with them. God may have graced me with the ability to teach them, but the whole behavior thing is not my strength. Nor is potty training, but that’s a different story…

My dear Hosanna is 1. How did that happen? Yeah, kids grow fast, but she’s grown abnormally fast. And yet she is no where near walking yet, so I get to enjoy her baby stage a little longer. She’s been so fun! So content, peaceful, playful… a true joy! This year with her has certainly been different than the other kids’ first years. And yet, I’m really kind of sad that she’s 1. Perhaps it’s because I’m not pregnant this time around with another baby to look forward to.

Not that I’m a fan of the baby stage. It’s my least favorite stage. I kind of fumble through it until they start naming letters and colors and then I perk up.

As much as Hosanna and Hadessah look alike, I’m glad that their personalities are not identical. Don’t get me wrong. I ADORE Hadessah. She’s so smart, funny, and very sensitive to other’s feelings. She’s a true intercessor and I really think she could be a prayer leader by age 7. She says the most profound things and we have so much fun together. But she’s not a complacent, content child. I say left and she says right. I say stand and she sits. She’s head strong, strong willed, whatever you want to call it, she would try to reason me into the grave if I let her. She’s like ME and that’s why it bothers me so much. Really, it used to be when a preacher would say “Let’s stand” something in me would grit my teeth and say “I’d like to remain seated THANK YOU VERY MUCH!” Oh, that seed of rebellion… not wanting to be submitted to anyone else, wanting to always lead… The Holy Spirit has had to work with me so much on this as an adult (because I wasn’t discliplined hardly AT ALL as a child).

Time will only tell who Hosanna will blossom into, but for now when I tell her to come to me she hurries on over. My little child of promise!

We’re waiting for Harvest, even though we’re not even sure what that means. Just that God will bring this child to us at some point. When I watch my kids playing it’s as if something’s missing… someone’s missing. It’s like a dull ache that gets covered over with the business of life, but when I reflect on him there’s a groaning within me.  I don’t even know how this thing works… the spirit of adoption that people talk about, preach about… how do I love this little boy whom I don’t even know? Have never seen? How can I keep hoping when it seems so unreachable right now? But I do know that God is faithful to begin what He started in me. So we wait on Him.

I realize that this post has been all over the place. All these random thoughts just waiting to be written…