Community, HOPE, Prayer

Moses’ kind of friendship [& Makenna’s Story]

So I have a theory on what real friendship looks like.

Deep, intimate, “closer than a brother” friendship.

This idea began as I studied the life of Moses. He was an impressive guy, of course. His life was miraculously preserved by his sister and a waterproof basket. He led the entire country of Israel to freedom from a hard-hearted Pharaoh. He was also entirely responsible for the country of Israel during their 40 year wanderings in the desert. He was a friend of God.

One little piece of Moses’ story jumped out to me this time as I read Exodus 17. Israel had been wandering for a good long time in the desert and they were getting picked on. An uneven battle began with a much larger country and Israel was at a serious disadvantage. But don’t worry, God was looking out for His people. God told Moses to stand on a hill and raise his staff. As long as Moses held the staff up high, the Israelites would win the battle. If the staff lowered, they would lose.

Well, that’s a lot of pressure on a guy, if you can imagine…

Moses’ brother Aaron went up the hill with Moses as did another man named Hur. The three of them watched the battle from above- no doubt interceding in prayer before the Lord on behalf of the army fighting below. And Moses raised his arms and had to keep them there. The Bible doesn’t say what time the battle started but it does say that it continued until sunset.

I bet Moses had some weary arms! But how could he give up? His arms had to stay lifted if he wanted his friends to live- if he wanted the nation to stay alive and his family to make it another day! He sat down on a rock. I’m sure that helped but the old arms can only take so much.

Enter: TRUE FRIENDSHIP!

Moses’ brother Aaron and this guy Hur actually held up Moses’ arms. They did the heavy lifting when Moses had nada for strength.

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How amazing is a true friend when you are in despair!? Friends stand in the gap for friends. They step in where there is a missing piece. Friends bring strength when muscle [aka: faith!] has weakened.

I had such a moment once. My sweet Makenna was born with Celiac disease. She was diagnosed when she was barely one year old. (It is extremely rare for this genetic disease to show up so early!) She was “failing to thrive” as the Dr’s put it and we were both a wreck. The diagnosis helped immensely in our everyday life. We knew the threat was gluten in every form and even the tiniest amount would put her in pain for days. With lots of effort we could keep her healthy but for such a young, fragile little lady it meant we had to isolate ourselves. Going anywhere that might be “contaminated” posed a huge risk to her life. Knowing her tiny insides were being torn apart from the gluten made it all worse. If exposure to gluten continued she would have severe complications in her future.

Boy, did we pray! Collin and I laid hands on her sick little body every night believing the Lord could heal her. We spent every moment speaking, praying and holding to the truth that our girl would live a long and “normal” life, God-willing. But you know what? Weariness set in. We were tired ourselves from sleepless nights and a screaming toddler. Years into this journey, we saw little improvement and our hope was dwindling…

Until a friend at church stopped me and said “I’m still praying for complete healing.” I kind of wanted to laugh. I suppose I was becoming a skeptic, but my heart was so empty of belief. Then I got an email from another friend “I think God is at work. She WILL be healed. I haven’t given up.”

These warrior women were holding up my arms and watching the battle be won.

I’m not going to lie, I could only halfheartedly continue to pray that God would answer. That’s when I felt a whisper from God.

“She’s already healed.”

Collin is the brave one who stepped out in faith to “check” Makenna’s healing. He bought us a “gluten pizza”, brought it home and cooked it in my (sterilized!!) oven. I prepped our sweet girl with all the faith I could muster “You don’t have to eat it just because Daddy’s cooking it. If you want Gluten-free pizza, we have that too.” (How little faith I had!)

And she ate it. (SHE had faith!) She didn’t get sick. And she’s eaten gluten ever since with no side effects! We have seen several doctors since who all cannot explain the change in her blood test and who all affirm her health from head to toe. She is a walking – no, she’s a DANCING- miracle!

I am so thankful for my “Aaron and Hur” friends who held up my hands and my faith until the battle was won! The bible says “[Moses’] hands remained steady until sunset.” Wow! Until the very end, the three men held up those hands together in faith and assurance that God would win the battle. And He did.

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My little lady all healed up at 3 1/2 years old!

So friends, I want to challenge you in your friendships. Whether you feel like a Moses or an Aaron/Hur. Openness about our struggles is required. Faith is required. Community is required. Our faith is stronger together. Let’s raise our hands together. Let’s stand in faith for one another. And let’s believe in miracles!

 

Dancing in our newfound freedom!!!

{Photo Cred: Nicole Marie Foster}

Can I add a little bonus thought?? I know this is already a long post, but I also want to add a plug for laying hands on our kiddos. My Makenna was prayed over at every prayer meeting and touched with anointing oil by our church family for YEARS and it was not wasted. Not only was she eventually healed (Yay miracle!) but she has always had the most sincere and deep devotion to Jesus. At 9 years old now, she can pray like a warrior and her wisdom is unmatched. I think those prayers have done more for her than I could ever imagine. What if we laid hands on all our kids whether we thought they “needed” it or not!? What if we dragged allll of our kids to prayer meetings and had our friends pray with us over them before bed? Just an honest thought… I’m going to try it out with the rest of my kiddos just in case. If I stop you and ask for prayer, it’s {probably} not a crisis, just an experiment of faith. Let’s lay our hands on the future generation and expect miracles AND warriors to come forth! We’re in this together.

Adoption, Community, Fostering

How many kids do you have?

You guys! I recently joined a bible study and it brought so much refreshing to my soul! I am so honored to study the word of God with women who are HUNGRY. And I mean, these girls just won’t quit. They do not choose light-hearted, easy, breezy studies, let me tell you. (There is no time to fall behind on journaling & homework either!) God spoke it and these girls will study it.

It. Is. Awesome.

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I can now say that these women are dear and wise and some seriously amazing cheerleaders, but on my first day? Not so much.

I sat down at the table after a scrumptious [hot] breakfast where we were divided into small-ish groups, yet as the introductions traveled around the table I grew so anxious I was shaking and in tears when all eyes turned to me. What was I supposed to say? I was already dreading THE QUESTION. The leader prompted: “You don’t have to say much, maybe just tell us something about yourself? Do you have kids?”

That did it.

I’m pretty sure I didn’t use an ounce of restraint when I choked out “I don’t like that question!”

See, it’s complicated. Of course, there are 5 Schuiteboers who live at our address (for now). Each of us has friends who come to play or eat or sleep. (Yay for an open door community!) Then there’s fostering… Just fostering alone changes this number on a daily/monthly basis. The number of those who live with me changes and the number of how may are carried in my heart changes too.

Then there’s last summer… yup, as I entered this unsuspecting group of Jesus-chasers I had just barely survived a crazy season as a mom of 7. I loved it. I love them. Each kid was so beautifully brought to this house and this season of our lives. God’s promises were all over each one of them and He was doing such a good work! (I can say that now since I’ve had months of space & plenty of therapy to recuperate and heal.) Crazy enough, at the end of the summer I was down to only 3 kids to tuck in at night and I felt the void. I loved the now-missing kids and they will truly never leave my heart. They will be mine forever.

Then there is the mostly-adopted-but-not-present Elisee whose paperwork has seen no progress in a full year and sweet Chelsey who is growing up and moved out on her own for the first time. I’m just saying… I get to claim these two even when my “mothering” is mostly spent on my knees!

Seriously. I am undone.

So is my answer to this overwhelming question 3? How many kids I tuck in at night.

5? the number of kids who will *someday* be Schuiteboers and come home for Christmas.

9? The kids I have loved, smooched, and wiped away tears for when their own momma’s couldn’t. The ones I personally carry in my heart.

19? The number my girlfriends can amass at the nearest park on any given summer day, but also the number of kiddos I pray over, invest in and plan to talk to about all the things they don’t want to tell their own moms when hormones hit.

How about 143 million? The number of orphans out there whom I often pray for and cry over and desperately want to offer hope and security to- even if only for a moment.

Here’s the beautiful part: No matter how many kids I say I have, I actually have more than that. The kids that live in my house will always be my kids… ALWAYS… even when they leave someday (voluntarily or involuntarily). The kids in the foster care system- they’re all my kids. My friend’s kids- they’re mine too. The orphans around the world- they’re my kids. I am blessed with these kiddos to love, to pray over, to mourn for, and to lay at the feet of Jesus. This is KEY. Our children belong to Jesus. I’m just hanging with them a bit. I need to let go of the number and how it effects my identity as “a mom of ___”. Instead, I want to focus on loving each one well. Katie Davis from Amazima Ministries says:

 “I have learned that I will not change the world. Jesus will do that. I can however, change the world for one person.”

Just one.. at a time… That’s all I can handle anyway. I want to truly invest in the one in front of me and love each one that passes through my arms & prayers well. I don’t need to claim anything to try to help the world understand this crazy way of living. I am the arms of Jesus and that’s enough identity for me.

And let’s be honest. When it comes down to it, I will actually claim a fake (higher) number in those moments I appear slightly crazed from having a “bunch” of kids!