Lucas: A Story of Adoption and Faith

I've really been looking forward to writing this post, because I've followed this story from afar for quite sometime.  This is also a very happy follow-up to my last post--like the babies at Door of Hope, little Lucas was waiting for his forever family. 

Jennifer and Andy Crook are a wonderful couple who were high school sweethearts.  They already already had two children, a boy and a girl, when they began looking into the adoption process.  According to Jennifer, they felt God placed a desire in their hearts to adopt as far back as their high school days. 



The Crooks were drawn to international adoption and chose to go through Lifeline Children's Services in Birmingham, AL.  Lifeline has a great reputation of supporting the communities they work with, and also for helping orphans who are not adopted.  In addition, Lifeline puts their efforts into helping kids with special needs and older children, not just infants.

I asked Jennifer what was she was thinking when she first saw Lucas at the orphanage.  Her response?  "He was my baby."  If you can watch this video without tearing up, this may not be the blog for you:

Lucas James Crook from Jennifer Crook Photography on Vimeo.


I just love this video because it focuses on what life is all about: loving those around you and doing what God has called you to do.  The Crooks are a remarkably inspirational couple to me; young professionals who already had two beautiful children and great careers, who stepped out on a limb to bring another child into their home.  Two and a half years of legal red tape, expense, and the anxiety of waiting, and all I saw in that video was joy and love.

When asked what she learned about God through this experience, Jennifer told me, "adoption is the very heart of who God is.  He longs to bring the broken, the unwanted, into a loving embrace.  He wants to call them His and love them forever."

I want to thank Jennifer and Andy Crook for sharing such a personal story and moving video with me.  I'm looking forward to meeting Lucas very soon!

Do you have an adoption story you'd like to share?  Or a story of following God's call?

The Door of Hope, an account with Brannon Hulsey

It was our second night in Johannesburg, and the low was 34 degrees.  Our mission team from First Baptist Knoxville was cold because the hotel wasn't heated and we hadn't discovered the space heaters yet.  We were all sleeping in socks, toboggans, gloves, and long johns.  Also on that cold night, a hundred feet from where we slept, a newborn was being left in a dropbox in the wall of Berea Mission Baptist Church.  This was another baby being saved from abandonment by the Door of Hope, an incredible organization that rescues abandoned and unwanted babies.  Infant abandonment is an epidemic in South Africa--in Johannesburg alone, 200 babies a month are abandoned.  Door of Hope has answered the Call to be a place of sanctuary, and literally, hope, for babies that would otherwise be abandoned.  We were privileged to spend time at Door of Hope.  Following is an account of our experience from my good friend Brannon Hulsey:

Working at the Door of Hope was an interesting experience unlike any I've had before. I spent time at two of the houses and was able to tour the third house. From the moment we walked in to any of the houses, the aunties and uncles (the women and men who work there) were so warm and welcoming, and they immediately put us to work. I spent time with big babies (six months to a year) and toddlers, and most of the children were happy to have new people to play with. We played, sang songs, ate lunch, and spent time loving on some adorable kids. When the children napped, there were chores to be done...inventorying donations, folding laundry, eating our own lunches, etc. I was struck at how well organized the houses were and how smoothly the schedules ran. 

While I loved spending time with the babies, I also really enjoyed talking to the aunties. These women (and men!) are such amazing individuals and you can tell that they really care about what they do. We participated in a daily devotion at each house, and the conversations during those times were deep and meaningful, even if babies were crawling all over us! These women truly believe that all babies are made in the image of God, that all babies should be cared for and loved. What an excellent testimony of their faith to dedicate their lives to raising up children of God who otherwise would be left to die.

It is hard to spend time at Door of Hope and not experience an array of emotions - joy when holding a child, respect when watching the aunties at work, hope when thinking about the new opportunity at life that these children are given, and grief when thinking about the mothers who abandoned their children. It's difficult for me to fully understand how or why a mother would abandon her child, but I've come to realize that for many of these mothers it is an act of sacrifice and selfless love. As a mother, my heart breaks for those women who have to rely on others to raise their children because they are incapable of providing basic needs. I am so grateful that the Door of Hope is there to help these women and children, and I pray that all involved know they are loved by an amazing God that knows them each by name. 

It was simply incredible to look into the eyes of children that were plucked from certain death and given opportunities at beautiful lives.  Thank you Brannon for your wonderful account.

Front of the Door of Hope dropbox in the wall of Berea Mission Baptist Church, rear view is below.

 

 

For more information on Door of Hope or to make a donation, click here. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Why A Significant Day?

Like I lot of people, I've been rolling the idea of doing a blog around in my head for quite a while.  I mean, for years.  I've known the world can't do without my wisdom, I just didn't know what subject matter I wanted to cover with my blog.

My personal story was going to be integral to the prevailing theme of my blog, but as someone who has done me the courtesy of reading this first edition, I can assure you that you don't want regular health updates.  Like a slow-motion potter working with clay, or more like my daughter molding her play-doh over the course of several months into her grand opus, I decided that I wanted to build a place followers can come to see uplifting and amazing stories.

And thus the title.  You've undoubtedly heard how our lives are shaped by a few key moments or decisions.  The major we chose in college.  An injury we sustained.  A chance meeting that led to the love of our lives.  I've learned over the past several years that every day is significant, and not just filler between the "big" moments.  Every day is a gift. 

Much of this blog is therapy for me.  I've had Crohn's disease for thirty years. I'm in significant chronic pain from a facial nerve issue that is still undiagnosed.  According to neurologists, neurosurgeons, radiation oncologists, anesthesiologists, and places such as the Mayo Clinic the problem lies somewhere between the conditions of trigeminal neuralgia, SUNCT, and chronic paroxysmal hemicranias.  The bottom line is the right side of my face has hurt all day, every day, for eight years.  This facial pain has severely affected my day-to-day life, and that of my family.  I hike about a fourth of what I used to.  I don't mountain bike anymore.  I don't golf anymore.

But even with these conditions, God has given me a tremendous gift.  Or maybe it's a curse.  I'm hopelessly optimistic.  I always feel that I'll get better and that I will start doing the activities that I love again.  One of the most remarkable gifts, however, has been the many opportunities I've had to talk with families and patients who have faced the fear of being diagnosed with Crohn's disease, or started on drugs that can have daunting side effects and just want someone to walk that road with them for a while.

So yes, every day is significant.  Every day is a gift.  I hope this blog is entertaining, uplifting, and transformative for the reader, and the author.