Today’s post is from Ann from Harvest Ministry. I spoke with her the other day regarding their orphan care ministry and I was deeply moved by the following story. In fact, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it! Thanks, Ann, for sharing it here!.

Dear Angela,

I want to thank you for the opportunity to share with your Homegrown Mom readers about the world’s need for helping orphans. I’m a lifelife homemaking, homeschooling mom of 7 “kids” ages 10 to 24 (with three kids still living at home).

For over 20 years, my husband and I have worked in full-time mission evangelism and church planting through Harvest Ministry, and in the last five years, this has expanded to loving orphans (beginning with trusting God to help 30 kids, to now being fully responsible for over 700 orphan children, in both Africa and India). As a mother, my heart SO goes out to precious little ones who don’t have a mom to tuck them in at night, and neglected hungry kids who no one is reaching.

A huge joy just this past month, was when our newlywed son and his bride (Josh & Anna, married just 3 months) went on their first mission trip together as husband & wife. These “kids” had nothing but vision . . . yet in only a few short months, they pioneered a brand-new orphan home called PROJECT INDIA – Aasha (Hope) Children’s Home. In just a few months, their “vision” went from a dream to reality. Through a simple letter (and lots of prayer), God provided ALL the support they needed (for airline tickets, travel expenses, home-start-up-costs, AND ongoing continual support for these 10 orphan children — pledged by loving friends and family). It’s inspiring . . . especially when you take a moment to seek God for what could possibly happen through your family, perhaps even within the next few years. Hey, if 22-year-old newlyweds with no money and no support-base can pioneer an orphan home for 10 children — from scratch — you could too!

Here’s some food for thought:
What God says about Orphans
Startling Orphan Statistics

I would like to share a vivid and compelling “picture” I saw (in my mind) during a time of prayer about two weeks ago. It relates to the urgent need for missions, helping orphans, and God’s unique call on my life . . . and a dramatic scene from Gone With the Wind.

Recently, a lady in our church had a dream, in which she was walking through a beautiful mansion. As she went through some of the rooms, she she felt left out and unneeded. But finally, she found a particular room she loved. At last, she felt “at home” in the mansion; and soon, this woman was making friends and given a specific job to do, that was perfect for her.

Our pastor recently related this woman’s dream in a sermon. He believed this mansion represented the Kingdom of God, and the different “rooms” represented various churches and congregations. Just as this woman had found her “place in the house” (finding a church family and a place of ministry where she could thrive) our pastor encouraged us to seek God for His purpose for our lives.

Using this example, I spent some time in prayer, asking the Lord to show me, more specifically than ever, my specific place and purpose in His Kingdom. As I was walking on a wooded trail surrounding our home, I felt like I saw a picture in my mind. I too was in a mansion, similar to the opening scenes of Scarlett O’Hara’s home, “Tara,” from Gone With the Wind. Then, in my thoughts, I felt led to go downstairs . . . to a massive basement. As I looked over the “room” (which suddenly appeared to be outdoors), I was reminded of another scene from Gone With the Wind, when Scarlett is searching for the doctor to come help with her friend Melanie’s birth.

In the movie, Scarlett walks through a graphic Civil War scene, where many wounded soldiers are lying in row-after-row on the ground, moaning for help. As the imagery is captured on film, the camera pans to a broader-and-broader viewpoint, as the intense scope of the Civil War’s casualties are revealed. At last, when Scarlett finds the frazzled doctor and begs him to come help, he responds, “Are you crazy? I can’t leave these men for a baby! They’re dying . . . bleeding to death in front of my eyes!”

In my picture, I saw a “room” filled with people. As my view expanded, I saw a massive open-air crowd, of all ages. It included multitudes of faces, from all nationalities . . . and many crying children. The faces extended on-and-on, farther than I could even imagine. I knew they represented people from around the world who needed to hear about Jesus, and orphans who needed to be rescued, and SOULS.

And just like that lone doctor in Gone With the Wind, there was hardly ANYONE working in this “room.” People were dying everywhere, and the need was beyond anything I had ever seen. As I prayed, I simply felt the Lord say to my heart, “Ann, you and Jon are called to THIS room . . . but you’re also called to go to other rooms in my house, to get others to come help. The need is great, and there aren’t enough workers. Go to mothers, families, homeschoolers, and churches . . . but don’t get distracted in the other rooms.”

This image is very raw right now in my emotions. This is the first time I’ve shared it publicly, or written it down, but I felt it fit with this month’s theme about identity. “Missions” is our family’s place in God’s Kingdom. We’ve seen desperate needs (even the past few weeks in Africa and India). We know we’re called to reach the lost and to rescue orphans . . . and also, to recruit others.

And please do think and pray about this need in the “basement.”
It’s real. And you could help.

With Love for the LOST, and God’s LITTLE ONES,
Ann

Note:
If anyone is interested in helping with a particular orphan project, something that’s a BIG need right now is BEDS for hundreds of orphan children who Ann and her family are helping in Uganda (their ministry recently purchased a truckload of mattresses and blankets, but these mattresses are still lying on the dirt floor.

To give for this specific need, we can go to THE CAUSE, and click on the project “MyCause4orphans” Enter Mission #0008 in the space under the project name. This will designate our giving for a specific orphan project for us here at Homegrown Mom — and our vision to purchase as many beds as possible (at about $20/each).

I believe most of us reading this can afford a $20 donation to get one child’s mattress up off the ground and onto a bed! Will you please join me and support this worthy cause? If you can’t afford $20, then donate whatever you can!

I’m standing in a makeshift church, singing quietly so I can hear the voices of the saints I am surrounded by. I smile inside. This must be what heaven is like. I close my eyes and pour my heart out to the Lord. He is worthy to be praised!

My scalp is tingling and goose bumps cover my body.

God is here. I feel Him.

I am so lost in this moment that for all I know I could be the only one still standing and singing. The music ends and I squeeze the hand of the man next to me. He squeezes back and I know he knows exactly what I’m thinking. Warm and fuzzy inside, it’s almost a reflex to offer a prayer of thanks for my husband.

God is so good.

Nothing thrills me quite like the Holy Spirit.

While lying in bed in the middle of the night, suddenly overcome by a God-given burden to lift someone up in prayer, my heart is full.

When receiving an answer to a prayer I haven’t yet uttered, my knees almost give out and the tell-tale shivers take over my body once again.

When opening my Bible and hearing as distinctly as if God’s own voice were speaking, tears well up in my eyes. He knows my name.

I swear it’s a glimpse of heaven.

God is good.

And yet.

There are days, weeks that go by when I don’t feel Him.

No warm fuzzies.

No goose bumps.

No flushed face and tingly scalp.

No glimpses.

Just an ordinary girl, trying to make her way through ordinary days. Bickering kids and a tired husband. A mile long list of to-do’s and no end in sight.

Prayers offered up, Bible read, songs sang.

God is here. But I don’t feel Him.

And that is…. fine.

Because I know in my heart, mind, and soul that God is here.

Whether I can feel it in this moment or not.

While a wellspring of thanksgiving doesn’t pour out of my soul on its own, I am still thankful for the man next to me.

I might be praying from a list and not from a pressing reminder from God, but He still hears me.

I dig into the Word only to find my mind wandering and the water in my eyes is due to the everlasting yawn I’ve been working on since I got out of bed. That’s okay. He still knows my name.

God is good.

He is worthy to be praised!

I wasn’t planning on blogging today. I’ve been baking up a storm since Tuesday and I’ve got company to prepare for that will be here in a couple hours. And yet, here I am. What brought me here wasn’t a super-cool idea for you and your kids, though I’ve had lots of those this season. In fact, I had a whole Christmas newsletter planned out, as well as a printable for you. The thing is, I have been too busy doing all those ideas with my own family to share them with you.

I figure that’s okay. Someday, my kids will be grown and I can look back and share all those things, having actually done them. Or maybe I’ll even get in gear enough in time to share them next year. Who knows? Lately, I’ve been falling into bed exhausted every night. But it’s a happy exhausted. My house is fairly sparkling. My family is happy. The blog can wait.

So what brings me here today isn’t some happy holiday list, though I wish it was. What finally got me to plant my booty in my new office chair and whip up my first post since I moved into this house?

Me, crying at my kitchen sink. Sometime around this day every year, I fight that slippery slope into gloom and despair, and apparently the only way I can claw my way out is by baking. Keeps my mind and my hands busy and I generally love to cook, so it’s a happy place for me.

However.

An unexpected quiet moment at the sink, letting my mind wander too long, and there it is. The Gloom. The Sadness. The Despair.

See, I pretty much live in a happy bubble throughout the year. I can choose who I want to spend time with and I choose people that love me. Encounters with those other people don’t happen very often, and when they do, we spread them out. Then Christmas comes and all of a sudden over two days we celebrate Christmas no less than six times.

Six family celebrations, and not all of them are pleasant if you’re me. There’s the house where I am literally ignored every year. Then there’s the evening I’ll spend being told that my life is a waste and I am ruining my children because I stay home. There’s the family that revolves around one person who happens to be a total jerk to me and all I can do is keep my head down.

And that’s not the worst. There are more hurtful things that I can ignore all year long, and then at Christmas it’s there, in my face. Some family members just don’t love me the way they should. And that’s that. And it will never stop hurting. I bring it to God over and over again and I’m warmed and blessed by Him and know that HIS love is enough.

Inevitably, though, I’ll find myself weeping into my sink as the reality hits me once again.

Christmas is hard, guys.

I read this post by Sarah Mae the other day and it really helped. And I spent some time in God’s lap. Asked him to show me that He loved me. Because I’m kinda needy like that.

He answered big. I won’t share what God spoke to my heart, because I want you to have your own moment with Him. Ask Him how He loves you. And really listen. You’ll be pleasantly surprised.

I don’t share this often, but I’ve been hurt a lot in this life. Some things are just too deep to share, but there’s a whole side of me that’s pretty much an open wound that I have to have covered and re-covered by the Lord.

And then sometimes it seems like I don’t count, that I’m forgotten. Sometimes it’s because of my love for God, and I must say that pretty much rocks. Hate me because I love Jesus? Bring it!

But sometimes, it’s just me. For some reason, certain people hurt me or don’t like me or treat me like they treat others. And it sucks.

But God shows me again and again that He always fills in the gaps. And I spend most of the year reflecting on how shockingly blessed I am. Sometimes, I even feel I am spoiled by God. I mean, my life is pretty amazing.

But there’s this whole other flip side and if I let myself dwell on that, it can get pretty ugly pretty quick. So today, I let myself cry a little and before I could really slip into that pit, little reminders appeared like ladder steps to climb right out.

Reminders like my husband. My kids. My mom. Reminders of blessings I’ve experienced all year long.

For every hurt, there’s a happy memory I can dwell on instead.

For every time I am ignored, there is a verse that tells me how God hears my every thought.

Every time someone tells me that I am worthless, or treats me like I am, I can smile knowing that God knew me and shaped me in my mother’s womb.

For every time I start to believe that I don’t matter, there is a face that depends on me to get through the day.

And that is how I get through Christmas. I hold on even tighter to what is good and perfect in my life. I try to be a light, and if I’m a little dim, then I at least try to not darken anyone else’s day.

And that’s really what brought me here today. I cringe to even think of sharing these dark thoughts. I want to only show the happy, joyful side of Christmas that I enjoy each year. Part of me is thinking, panicked, this isn’t who I am! I don’t want you to think I am a moody, depressed freak. But I know I’m not alone. I know some of you are hurting and worrying about facing a family that tears you down.

Dwell on what is good and perfect in your life. And if you’re so low you can’t think of what that might be, then ask God to show you. He will. Because He has not forgotten one of us.

He sent His son, Jesus to save us all. Including those jerks that treat you like dirt. So dwell on what is good. Treasure the things God speaks to you in your quiet time with him. Hug your husband and your kids often.

And have a Merry Christmas, friends.

I believe that God is sovereign. He is king.

I believe that God formed me. He knows my name.

I believe Jesus is Messiah. He is coming again.

Yes, I believe all scripture is God-breathed.

And yet.

In the early hours when I am left alone with my thoughts, I ramble around my brain like an old familiar house and old friends call to me from the forgotten dusty corners of my mind.

I am useless.

Ugly.

Unlovable.

I know the scriptures. I am His workmanship. I am created in His image. I am so loved that He sent His only Son to die for me. Yet I continue to dwell in the secret passageways where these things are not true. In the hidden hallways, where no one can see me, I listen to the old voices. And I cry.

Lord, I believe. Help me with my unbelief!

Awhile ago, my little Soleil (now seven) came to me with a very cute invitation.
Come to my club today at 12:30!

How adorable is that?

She had planned crafts in her own free-spirit designer way, and set up our art table. We talked and laughed and made unidentifiable sparkly objects.

A month or so later, another club was planned. This time she had snacks.

How sweet is she?

We made some more sparkly messes, ate some raisins and pretzels, and I complimented the decorations she’d taped up all over her room. Then I asked her not to tape things to the walls, please.

Soon, another meeting was planned. Another craft. A tea party followed. A movie party wasn’t far behind.

Now, before you think my child is starved for attention, let me tell you this. She got this party planning gene from me. Not to mention a living example I set day after day when I try to bring a sense of occasion to every day routines. It’s in her blood, man.

I started to remind her to ask me before she made these plans, because I could see the road we were headed down. What started as a cute little thing was going to end up with me spending every day in a six year old’s fantasy if I didn’t nip this bud quick.

Then it happened. I was rushing around the house getting ready for a double whammy day. Doctor’s appointment for me and dentist check-ups for the girls. Then a book club meeting after at our house.

Just as I was putting the final batch of cookies in the oven for guests later and hollering at my girls to make sure and floss extra-good, Soleil came in with one of her cute invitations.

“Not now, sweetie, I have to finish getting ready, and so do you. Let’s go!”

“You mean I wasted my time for nothing?” She threw up her hands and her eyes started to water.

Soleil asked me to come see her room, and swallowing a sigh, I followed her. She had set up the ultimate crafts table and had a full schedule written out for us. And I mean full. It’d take us three days to do everything on that list. Games, crafts, movies. She’d made signs, decorations. Was fully dressed as a Disney princess/hula dancer/cheerleader in a way that only she could pull off.

How annoying is that?

I sat Soleil down and told her that while I appreciated all the work she’d done, she should have asked me first because we had a full day and Mommy needed to start getting ready Right Now or else I’d have hairy legs when her friends came over. She giggled a little and we moved on. But she gave me plenty of sad glances as we packed all the games back up.

Later in the car, I reminded her again to please ask me if I have plans before she plans my day. It was for her own good, I reminded her, because if she’d done what I asked and gotten dressed and ready instead of planning a party for us, she wouldn’t have wasted her time setting all that stuff up. I also told her that when she got home she was just going to have to finish picking up her mess before everyone came over and that if she’d asked me first, none of it would have happened.

I threw in, “You can’t plan our days for me, honey,” as many times as I could, trying to drive that point home. And yes, I battled with feeling like a mean mommy and squelching her desire to make nice surprises for people. I came to the conclusion that she’d get over it.

As I sat later, reveling in the rare quiet while I watched the girls get their teeth cleaned, I came to another conclusion, too and it’s this: Soleil and I don’t just share a party-planning, love-to –surprise people thing. I, like her, get ahead of myself and make plans without consulting my Father.

How many times have I spun my wheels on some project only to find that if I’d bothered to pray about it first, I wouldn’t have wasted my time? How many times have I made lists, plans, signs, put everything into place, only to find it wasn’t the right time?

Too many.

A few months ago, my plans for this summer were extensive and quite specific. In addition to finishing my novel, I’d spend a couple hours a day building my blog, taking advantage of the days off school.

I made reservations, planned weekly link-ups, committed to writing regularly for other sites, sold advertising, committed to partnerships, studied and learned web stuff, committed to giveaways, planned series of posts, committed, committed, committed, until I was drowning in commitments.

I should have been committed. Ba-dum-bump.

Had I prayed and waited for a Yes, No, or even a Wait, I would have saved myself some serious headaches and even a few bucks. But, no, I charged ahead and planned my days and weeks without checking.

Then, I got sick. I was in constant pain and suddenly when they were telling me they were checking for blood cancers and tumors, nothing mattered more than family. I shared in May that God used that time to turn my heart back to my family and to give up the blogging biz thing. To just write from my heart and forget all that other junk for now. So I did.

And summer. Ah… Instead of lounging by the pool with my laptop, I spent the majority of one month in bed in pain awaiting surgery, and the next in bed recovering from surgery. (No cancer, yahoo!)

Sometimes these things just happen. Even prayerfully made plans can go differently than we ever expected. Sometimes God leads us down a path only to bend the course at the last minute. Getting a Yes, or No, or a Hold on a second doesn’t ensure a smooth path where everything goes according to plan.

The difference is, I know when I’m walking in God’s plan. I have a peace and contentment knowing that whatever happens, I’ll be good.

And I know when I’m walking in my plan. I’m stressed, overly busy, never quite finishing anything, and before I know it I’m standing there with a tear-streaked face dressed as a Disney princess/hula dancer/cheerleader. And I so cannot pull that look off.

Thankfully, we serve a God of Grace. He doesn’t lecture me or leave me alone to clean up my messes. He gently reminds me through scripture and others that I need to pray over all my plans. Friends galore sent me scriptures and encouragement for my surgery. People came along side me and helped me get through plan B. My email inbox flooded and when I took weeks to get back to people only to break commitments, most were kind and gracious. When I was picking up my mess, I had plenty of help.

Sitting in that dentist’s office, seeing my little girl lying down with her little hands crossed on her tummy, just like the dentist tells her to, a lump formed in my throat. When we got home, I helped her pick up her mess real quick before her friends arrived and I asked her if we could leave her decorations up for the book club. A little grace never hurt anyone, did it?

Of course, a couple weeks later she’d planned another 3 day “meeting.” I scanned her ridiculously long list with a raised eyebrow and told her we’d do the puzzle after dinner and that was that. I had to admit to myself that I still had a very long list of blogging “ideas” for when I got back to it all.

I’m happy to report neither of us ever got through our lists.

Proverbs 19: 21 Many are the plans in a man’s heart, but it is the LORD’s purpose that prevails