Brandon

Brandon took us to a carnival he used to go to when he was a kid. There was a little kid about seven or eight in front of us. The carnival ride operator wouldn’t let him get on without an adult. I offered to ride with him. He told me no and told the kid to go find an adult to ride with him. I started to follow the boy and then turned back. I kept watching him walk and walk and not an adult in sight. Dang it. I should have grabbed him and rode with.

The guy was rambling on and on about how these parents don’t take care of their kids.

“with human trafficking and people’s kids getting stolen, serves them parents right for not taking care of them.”

I was biting my tongue. I knew he was rambling about nothing he really cared about. Part of me wanted to punch him and part of me wanted to jump off the ride and find that little boy.

“Brandon, did you ever come here like that when you were a kid?”

“yeah”

“That little?”

“yeah”

“Brandon what did you do?”

“I just got on rides like that little boy. Then I’d walk towards the river and watch the fireworks behind Meuellers”

“By yourself?”

“yeah”

“My heart can’t handle that. You won’t ever ride a ride alone again.’

Pull it together, Christi, you are at a carnival and trying not to cry.

Anything. I read that book last year. I blogged about it. It’s been the simple word I have uttered in the last year when I don’t understand what is happening or why God is allowing it to.

My best Anything is 17 years old. He’s the scariest Anything I’ve prayed about and the best Anything I could ask for.

A year ago my oldest daughter, Lauren, said she had a boyfried. She was 14 and couldn’t date, but she wanted to hang out with him which meant Youth Group, school events, and Church. I needed to know more about him.

He’s 17 (ouch a little old). Homeschooled (thinking he probably has strict awesome parents too ;). He’s in Foster Care. I just hung there for a moment. You did too. I’ll come back to that.

We picked Brandon up for youth group. At the time I was helping there and  I could monitor the situation.  He lives down the road with my old high school teacher on a sheep farm.

First thing I noticed was Brandon was shy, but extremely polite.

I watched him every week at youth group. I watched his eyes never leave the youth pastor when he spoke. One Wednesday Lauren was sick and couldn’t go. I told her to tell Brandon she wasn’t going.

He still wanted to come with me. He didn’t care that it was just him and I.

I asked him everything and told he didn’t have to answer anything. He did.

We let Lauren invite him over for dinner one night. “Mom, he’s nervous. He’s never eaten dinner at a table like a family.”

Then he started coming to Church on Sundays. Same thing, eyes never left the pastor. He showed up at our house an hour before we had to leave. He was excited. He decided to follow Jesus not long after that. Then the bomb dropped. I live in small town America and have a lot of people that love me and care about us. They thought we should know.

“Brandon was that boy that ran away with that girl in the news last summer.”

“Brandon got kicked out of school, that’s why he’s home schooled.”

“You need to be careful and protect Lauren.”

“You know he has ran with a rough crowd where drugs and alcohol have been around.”

I think the room spun out of control. I remember getting in my car with tears running down my face. I had grown to love this kid, but was I setting Lauren up for failure. I drove and drove. I prayed and prayed.

“God I need to know now whether to shut this door or keep walking. Anything, Lord. I am praying Anything.”

Peace. I just had peace. Keep walking. We are going to keep walking. That means some voices were going to have to be listened to and loved, but we were going to keep walking with Brandon.

I had nothing guiding me, but this pull in my heart.

One night someone asked Barney if he knew Brandon had a “past”. Barney said, “anything Brandon did before Jesus doesn’t matter to me.”

Amen.

Wednesdays and Sundays became weekends until bedtime and now every day. If Brandon is not here, we are all asking where he’s at.

Brandon has the keys to our truck. I can sign a check and he can go to the grocery store and get gas with it. Brandon’s in. He’s one of us. If you asked me how many kids I have, I answer five. I just ask Lauren to not hold his hand because that looks weird after I say that.

I wasn’t looking for Brandon and he wasn’t looking for us. We happened. It’s a beautiful collide.

I get a lot messages from people from that have known Brandon. They share with me how sweet of a boy he was. How they always knew with the right people Brandon would do well. I know they mean well.

Brandon made us better. Brandon made us slow down and enjoy the little things like eating dinner as a family. Brandon made us realize what we truly had.

 

Brandon added peace to this house. Brandon brought us together as a family. Instead of noses in the phones and electronics, they were playing cards in the living room, he takes the girls to the pool, they go shoot baskets at the park, they play the board games that collected dust, and they miss him when they leave.

Sometimes after those messages, I cry. I get angry. I wonder how in the world a kid like Brandon just bounced from place to place. I wondered why nobody grabbed that incredibly sweet kid and latched onto him. I realize it doesn’t matter. Our paths were headed down the path to cross and I am thankful for all the people that recognize the purpose that he has.  I I thank God, because he landed here with us. So, really I am selfish because I wouldn’t really want to share him anyway.

I asked Brandon one day why he was always so polite. He told me that in “the system” you learn to be nice so you are treated well.

I am thankful that God’s system doesn’t work that way, because he finds us, deep in the mess we are in and He loves us.

While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us- Romans 5:8  

That night we went to Good Friday service at church and they were asking for people to share. I felt like I should but didn’t want to be in the front. I walked up to Brandon and asked him to go with me.

I introduced us and told them how we met. I shared that Brandon told me he needed to be good to be treated well in the “system”. As we sat there on Good Friday, the symbolic night Jesus laid down his life for us,  I was reminded in our lives that his death brings us together as family. Our blood, our papers, our family doesn’t qualify us. We become family because of His great Love. We don’t have to prove ourselves to belong, we just need to believe in the One that calls us to belong.

When I cried last year that I would do Anything as I finished that book by Jennie Allen, I had no idea what that would look like.

I had no idea that one night Brandon would call me and tell me that he had to call the cops at the park because some guy strung out on drugs would pull a knife on his friends kid over eight dollars. Brandon got my girls into a car and called police.

When I got there it was dark around 9:00. Several kids were standing in the parking lot. As Brandon finished filling out the police report, four young boys came up to tell us what they saw. There wasn’t an adult around for any of them. All of their faces were little Brandon’s and my heart broke.

I prayed, “God how many Brandon’s are out there, because my heart cannot handle it?"

The next day at the pool, one boy came up to Brandon and asked him why he had to call the cops on his friend’s dad.

Brandon said, “because my little sisters were traumatized.”

Little sisters. My heart melted.

Brandon and I say we were brought together for a purpose. We know it’s bigger than family dinners and hanging out. I know there are a lot of kids out there waiting to belong unconditionally. I know my ears burn and my anger flares when I hear a kid being called a “foster”. I used to use those words, but I want you to know Brandon.  I want people to want to know their names and their stories. I want us to be less scared and more opened in our hearts, homes, and lives.

When I prayed Anything, I wanted it to be a clean job description. It’s not. God calls us to come walk with him. He then adds people to the path. He wants us to trust him.

I wrestled a lot. I told God this makes me look like a hypocrite. He knows we signed our rights away. He knows the depth of failure and heartache we have felt at not watching a little girl grow up. The condemnation was like an arrow piercing my heart. I know where it comes from, but some days it’s hard to shut out.

One Sunday, our pastor read Joel 2:25-26 “I will repay you for the years the locust ate..you will have plenty to eat, until you are full, and you will praise the name of the Lord your God, who has worked wonders for you; never again will my  people be shamed.

He was saying that to us and to Brandon. Because Brandon walked into our lives at 17 and I have learned it’s never too late. As we pray for his family, we pray also for the brokenness in our own.

It wasn’t the ideal year. I wasn’t ready, I lost my job, had lots of medical issues, personal issues, family issues, and church issues and God still said, Now. Sometimes God’s interruptions are the glue that holds it all together.

 Today we celebrated his 18th Birthday. He will be 18 this week. I wish he was only eight.

 

For the Love

A few years ago I went to Women of Faith in Kansas City. I remember seeing this lady on stage that didn’t seem like she fit the “mold” I was used to at WOF. Then, I heard her speak. It was tearing down the barrier between us and them and really reaching people for Jesus. I had tears rolling down my face. Her message was what I needed to hear. I hadn’t heard of her before. During the break I went to check out her book. I grabbed the book Seven. The lady behind the table said she was coming up to sign and I could jump in line to meet her and be one of the first. I said, “it’s ok, I don’t really know who she is.” Then I thought, what the heck and jumped in line.

Jen Hatmaker was so nice and genuine.

 

I read that book and then ordered her other book  Interrupted. I realized there’s a lot more people that are like me out there than I thought. I am weird but not as weird as I struggled with. I don’t want to be a pretty church ornament. I just want to be messy about his business. It doesn’t always look like clean buildings and organized Sunday School rooms. It doesn’t mean you have to volunteer for everything at the church either. Sometimes we just need to be the church. It might be the only church people ever see. (I am not saying don’t volunteer or be involved in your church)

Seems in every story I read in the Bible it looked messy to those looking in, but God always had a plan.

So, back in March I registered to be on her launch team with 5000 other Jen Hatmaker fans. It was a shot in the dark. Then after a particularly rough week I got an email that I made it in the “500” to be on her launch team. I got her book the day before I left for Nicaragua. It was my plane read. I laughed, I cried, I fist pumped, I cried and laughed some more.

It’s about fighting for grace in a world with impossible standards. Right out of the gate she says take some things off the beam. It’s ok. You know what? I hate being a room mom. I did it. I hated it. I can supply some snacks. The end. I’ll put my energy in things I am good at. Trying to get twenty-eight kids to throw Cheetos at a shaving cream head while cringing about the mess we just made for the janitor ain’t it.

I really enjoyed the turning 40 chapter. I am quickly approaching that time in my life. I am actually looking forward to it and she makes forty sound appealing. I am ok with mom hands and a few wrinkles. I am ready to love on the younger generation and tell them it will be ok. My friend, Janet, did that for me. My friends with kids in college and married daughters they breathe life into me. They give me hope that this all comes out in the wash when we keep our eyes focused on Him. I am ready to keep running this relay while handing batons off to the next mom of littles and saying, “you are gonna make it and you will like these people you made, they’ll tie their own shoes and you can read a book at the pool.”

I made it through Chapters one and two with some fist pumps and misty eyes and Chapter three let those tears fall. “If it isn’t also true for a poor single Christian mom in Haiti, it isn’t true.” There isn’t a status or place we enter that says we’ve arrived whether we are single or married, poor or rich, because God’s calling us to reach people. God just wants us to be faithful with what we have whether it’s thousands or mites, but really he said Go into all the world and make disciples.

Chapter 5 – Leggings aren’t pants and no one wants to see you nether parts. Manpri’s are a don’t.  Barney doesn’t have to worry that they’ll be under the tree for him this Christmas.

Ahhh.. It was sooo good to laugh after a cry.

Chapter Six – We can run our race, ladies. It’s ok to be good at things. It’s ok to have gifts and talents and use them. Hiding them does no good and it’s not arrogant to use them. Jesus gave us a lane. Run.

After I fist pumped and got excited I was in for more laughing. She talks about commercialism and the need to buy the next wonder thing. This makes me laugh as one who has done that. Tonight I sit drinking my apple cider vinegar water and ignore the ten thousand commercials and social media posts about the next energy boost. I’ve done that. I’ve bought the miracle cream and awesome hair stuff and I still look the same. Not buying.

The truth sets us free. It really does. I held a secret for over a decade that nearly destroyed everything and the moment I let it be truth I was free. I said it out loud in a room full of scary Christian women that at any time can label or judge me, but I am free. Because of my freedom my inbox is full of women saying it empowered them to be honest, to let the power of their testimony be a shout out to the one that makes it powerful, Jesus.

Jen says, “With every I am here, and I’ve been there and You aren’t alone and God has this, your scary truth gets less terrifying, less overwhelming, less paralyzing. It becomes fully exposed with no secrets left to threaten you.”

 We get to be 2 Corinthians 4 because darkness presses us but it cannot crush us. Amen.

Again, she lets us catch our breath after the heavy stuff because Chapter 8 is thank you notes. Like, Thank you maxi skirts for basically being crotchless yoga pants. You must read this book if just for the Thank You Notes! My thank you note would be:

Thank you Just Go Girl for ensuring I can burpee, squat jump, and do jumping jacks while wearing a diaper strip capable of holding ½ cup of liquid after having four small children tarzan their way out of my body. However, they make bear crawls appear that I Fooped. I hate bear crawls, anyway.

 

 

That leads right into being a Spicy Family. We are spicy. We are not quiet or sweet or reserved. I’ve tried and nearly combusted. If you’ve seen me on social media, it’s just the tip of the iceberg. There’s no secrets here and no shame. You ask me and I’ll answer because I don’t want sister Susie at school giving you false information. When my kid comes home in fourth grade and says, “so if I want to have a baby, I just need someone to reach up there and crack my eggs” we first calm Barney down because he’s yelling about worrying about your own stuff before letting someone touch it and I am  trying to out yell him to calm him down while making throat cutting gestures like a mime. Poor kid didn’t know what was going on, but yes, one day I’ll explain how to crack those eggs.

You get to laugh and you get to cry and then you get to say Amen. I won’t break down every chapter but I am telling you, you need to read this.

One of my favorite chapters is “Dear Christians, Please Stop Being Crappy”. Ok,  your version says lame. I liked crappy.

I love social media and the power of it. I do. I love seeing kids rescued and people helped. I love seeing old friends and connecting with new ones. What makes my heart hurt is how fast we will jump on something to show everyone what we are against. We tear each other down. We tear unbelievers apart before ever inviting them in.  The Gospel is good news folks. It’s good news. It’s Grace wrapped in flesh meeting the woman at the well, stopping the stoning of the adulteress woman, it’s eating lunch at the sinner’s house, it’s setting captives free. It’s good news people. Jesus died for sins. Come on. There’s a better way. They need to know us by our love. Loving sinners isn’t condoning sin. It doesn’t give a pass to atrocities happening every day to innocent victims. His kindness brings us to repentance. It’s Him, not your picket signs. We can meet them where they are. We have a  Gospel of beautiful examples.

Please stop being resounding gongs. We love  1 Corinthians 13 for weddings but not for everyday life, not for the people closest to us that are capable of ripping our hearts out, not for those living a life we don’t condone. People complained that Jesus hung out with sinners, was a glutton, a friend of tax collector’s and sinners (Matthew 11:19). I guess if being a friend of sinners was good for Jesus, it must be good for me.  

I saw how mean Christians can be to our own when they fall this summer. It was like a horrific train wreck that went on for hours on social media. We can do better church. I believe in us.

I have never had someone come to church with me because I said, “hey, you are a sinner, and you need to come.” I said, “I was a wreck, a mess, and Jesus found me, You want to come, friend?”

That’s a whole blog in and of itself. Go get the book. In September I am going to do a book club. There’s recipes we can cook together.  There's  more chapters and honest things we need to look at to really grow community, to grow with each other. There's laughter to be had and tears to be shed. There's conversations and friendships ready to be built as we tear down walls and masks.  
 
 

 

 

In a few weeks I am headed to Jen’s house for the launch party. Since March I’ve been in a community of people on facebook that have not just catapulted a book into #1 but loved each other through some really tough dark times, rejoiced in some pretty amazing days, and laughed together while being scattered across the world. I am going to meet some of these ladies in person, thank them for the beautiful community they created, and pray that somehow right here in my little neck of the woods we can create a community that says For the Love of Jesus, I am walking with you.

 Go Get it! Comment on this blog and I am picking one lucky winner next week to get a book from me.