We’ve been dealing with something at our house.  I know.  When are we NOT dealing with something, right? This thing is extra tough because it concerns my little boy.

You can barely see it. . . that little spot in Bubba’s hair. . . Here.  I’ll take a closer picture:

Now Bubba would tell you that the “need” to pick his hair began on June 6, 2012 but I beg to differ.  For the past year (since KB put rocks in Bubba’s hair at the park) Bubba has picked at his hair but just since April he has been pulling out his hair.   This is VERY different from what we went through with Little.  What Little did was almost subconscious but what Bubba is doing is compulsive. . . he feels like he HAS to.

A month ago while sitting in worship, I was struck by just how powerless he feels in regard to this.  He just keep pulling clumps out and I just kept crying and I asked what I could do to help.  He showed me his note sheet for the day:He asked me if I would please pray that God would heal him.  Then he asked if we could cut his hair as short as Pastor Mark’s (completely shaved).  Later, while I was out and about, Honey took the clippers to Bubba’s head.  That little guy was truly happy; one could see the relief on his face.

So once again I come to my friends and ask for prayer. As his hair is growing back he has already started trying to pull it. Please pray our Lord would “heal” him of the compulsion and give him freedom. When he feels the need to pull, it’s like he can’t do anything else until he pulls.  It’s so binding. Thank you for laboring in prayer with us on behalf of our son.

I lived alone for a year when I was working in Rome, GA during the late 90’s.  My favorite thing about my one bedroom, old-as-dirt duplex was how clean it stayed.  I would vacuum and dust on Saturday mornings but I was done in 30 min.  Everything had its place and everything stayed in its place.  I sometimes think that heaven is going to be a bit like that one bedroom, old-as-dirt duplex.  (Pause for me to mentally tour the old place and remember everything in its given home.)

I presently live with four other people in a four bedroom, old-as-dirt farmhouse and it is rarely clean.  Most things have a place but nothing stays in its place.  One example that comes to mind most readily is bandages.  In our home, bandages are as much a staple as milk and I do my best to stay well stocked.  There is a small container in the bathroom where bandages and Neosporin find a place.  Before the kids were tall enough to reach said container, it was safe in the linen closet and all was well in that space of my world.  The last time I bought Bandaids, our oldest proceeded to open almost every one and put it on her fingers or legs and then peel them off and stick them to her carpet.  (I sometimes think that Hell is going to be a bit like that scenario.)  The few that she didn’t WASTE were commandeered by her sister and left throughout the house on her way to put them in their container in the linen closet.  I think that only two found their way back to their proper place. . . and those two were used by KB on Saturday.

Today I made California Quinoa for dinner and in my quest to use kitchen shears the way my girlfriends say they should be used, I cut my finger while cutting up cilantro.  Seriously. . . a nice “V” cut into the side of my pinky finger.  I called for KB to run get me a bandage and she came back empty-handed.  My next thought went something like this. . . “Wait.  Why would I look where they should be.  I need to look in random places where they would have been absent-mindedly left.  I began to dig through the top drawer of The Blue Hutch and wah-lah. . . a bright yellow bandage with LOL printed all over it.

Boo Boo Providence

I realize this is a silly thing to write about but I just can’t help but think my God loves me sooo much that He used my child’s inability unwillingness youth to protect one bandage for when I needed it.

Yes, I know that this is a “glass-half-full” viewpoint.  Truth is that in that one bedroom heaven in Rome, Ga. there were plenty of Band-aids in the closet in the bathroom – – second shelf up – – right side.  Truth is  that God provided those too.  I’m just sayin’.

So many of our friends are in the process of adopting or have recently brought home their new family members.  It is always exciting to hear the stories and, once again, be reminded or our own spiritual adoption by our Heavenly Father.

A couple Sundays ago one of our Associate Pastors preached on adoption from Romans 8 and it was FANTASTIC.  A friend of his recently returned from Uganda with two sons and Ben used their story, and words from their personal emails, to illustrate the points being made in scripture.  Ben is a really gifted teacher and often says things that God uses to touch my heart; this particular Sunday was no different.

After discussing the way these two boys were used to living before their new life began, Ben read a portion of an email where his friend wrote asking for prayer.  The boys were misbehaving and correction was necessary, but in light of the lifestyle “norm” of fighting to survive, the topic of correction and discipline was a tough one.  Their new mommy wrote and asked for prayer that these boys would “learn how to be loved”.  I think I audibly gasped.

The journey of becoming is a tough road for sure.  Remembering that God is at work to make us more like Himself isn’t always easy and I often get bogged down in the daily struggles and the fight to make it.  If I am honest, it is hard for me to feel loved by our Father when the pain of earth living becomes overwhelming.  I want His love for me to look a certain way and push certain buttons; I care more about the way I feel NOW than the result of being like my Father.  Oh that I would “learn how to be loved.”  To know that the pain of discipline is reflective of His deep love for me. . . To remember that He withholds many things because He knows what the truer blessing is. . . To trust that He will not let me go. . . He has called me by name. . . I am his. I’ve been adopted and He loves me!

The sermon is free on iTunes if you want to have a listen. . . it is truly a gift of a sermon.  Click here!