I'm a daddy's girl. And not in the way that I wasn't a mama's girl too. I just really love my daddy in a world where girls crave the attention of their dads and then push them away in spite of themselves. I'm such a daddy's girl that while I have a lot of friends who comfortably refer to God as "Daddy" or "Papa", I have struggled with this for myself. I love God with all my heart, but I treasure the man who is my daddy. It's this kind of devotion that is the basis for my heartache the last eleven years since my daddy passed away.
I think about him and his loss a lot. I don't audibly talk about it that much, but I think about it at least daily. This morning has been no different. I found myself thinking about the growth that I've had spiritually and as a person since he left. Some of that growth, I fear, came directly because of his loss in my life. That stirs even more sadness in my heart.
And so I said to God,
I wish I had been more together, more mature. That I didn't need to learn so many lessons that have come from his passing. Maybe if I had already gotten all of that, You wouldn't have had to take him when you did.
Holy Spirit immediately responded, "I am the designer of all things. I work everything out for good. There is nothing that you could've or should've done."
Still, I pressed Him, I wish that I was the apple of Your eye.
"You are. I've told you that a million times."
No, I mean, I wish I was the star pupil at the front of the class. Having it all together, knowing all the answers. I'm the one with wrinkled paper in the back looking for my dropped pencil.
"I don't have a class of students, Sweetie. I have children, whom I love and adore. You can't perform well enough to have anything all together. I've got it together for you. You can't know anything already because I reveal myself to you as you press into Me."
It's here that I sink into the love that He's poured over me many times before and also here where I realize that the daddy that I love so dearly, learned all his good daddy-ing ways from the real and true Daddy.
I'm extremely blessed to be in the legacy of both.
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
The Day I Would Do Over
It was in the fall of 2001. It was actually September 12, 2001. I was not in a good place. I had been struggling with panic and anxiety attacks for a couple of weeks and when I had awakened the day before, I began to spiral almost out of control. To a person already struggling with anxiety, three planes flying into buildings and our nation being attacked doesn't make anything better. So, for whatever reason, even though I was twenty-two and married, my mom felt like my safe place. For several weeks, I didn't leave her side. I went everywhere with her and on September 12th, I was with her and my grandmother (MeMaw) at MeMaw doctor's appointment.
When we got called back to the exam room and finally saw the doctor, MeMaw began telling him about her back pain. She was already in her seventies at that time and had raised four children, worked on a dairy farm for a good portion of her life, lived through two strokes, back and other surgeries and in the next few years would live through a brain aneurysm so we wouldn't have made a trip to the doctor simply because she had slept wrong the night before or something. Still, the doctor was arrogant and rude and didn't really want to listen to my MeMaw or the pain she was describing. He never looked her in the eye until he had enough of her talk. When he did stare straight at her, he grabbed her not-all-that-big belly and shook it at her a bit and said "This, Mrs. Tucker, is the source of your back pain. Get rid of this and your pain will go away." Turning away to write on the chart, my mom and I noticed the shame and hurt come across MeMaw's face as she lowered it to look down at what he had diagnosed as a problem. After a few seconds and the initial shock wore off of us, I remember strong words coming from my mom to the doctor, but she was soon dismissed as well and he left the room. Mom tried to comfort MeMaw, but the damage had been done and we left the office, MeMaw in a different kind of pain than when she had arrived.
When I think back about that day, I would use a mulligan there. I would be in a different frame of mind; not afraid of my own shadow. The part of me that is still being transformed would stand up and give a swift uppercut with my elbow to that doctor's jaw (in a mostly metaphorical way) and we would parade MeMaw out of there in triumph over the cruelness of a rotten man. And even as I type this I realize how opposite this scene is from the way I was brought up.
Growing up in church you are taught about the virtues of being meek, mild and slow tempered. I don't disagree with those virtues at all. I wish I had more of them. But, when you look at Jesus' character, it's hard to ignore that He was also a bit feisty at times. In his book Beautiful Outlaw, John Eldredge described Jesus as having fierce intention. Consider John 2:13-17:
13 The Passover of the Jews was at hand, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. 14 In the temple he found those who were selling oxen and sheep and pigeons, and the money-changers sitting there. 15 And making a whip of cords, he drove them all out of the temple, with the sheep and oxen. And he poured out the coins of the money-changers and overturned their tables. 16 And he told those who sold the pigeons, “Take these things away; do not make my Father's house a house of trade.” 17 His disciples remembered that it was written, “Zeal for your house will consume me.”
Did you catch that? Jesus got REALLY angry. He was so angry that He didn't act on it right away, but rather He went off and made a whip to really show off His anger. Meek and mild? No. Righteously angered and taking charge? Yes!
Just like the time with MeMaw, the places in my life where I could really use a do over is when I have either a) blown my top in an unbecoming way or b) passively sat by and watched unlovable things be done to lovable people. Jesus didn't do this. He started with holding God and His word as non-negotiables and nothing to be cheapened. Then He stood up and defended the defenseless and the lonely and abused all with calculated words and actions cutting to the very root of sin and pain.
The truth is, MeMaw is dancing in Heaven today with a new body and I'm pretty sure, remembers nothing about that day in the doctor's office. Going back and living out my do over fantasy would do nothing to add or subtract from the eternal joy she is experiencing right now. But, here's my goal: I want to be like Jesus. That's it. Sure, I want to be a great wife and mother, I want to do great things in the Kingdom, maybe be fantastically good at something before I die, but absolutely none of that is worth anything if it doesn't resemble Jesus. I want to be good and kind and honorable like He is, but I also want to be calculating and strong like He is in the face of injustice. As my days increase, I want there to be less situations where I would like a do over and more and more where people can see Jesus in me, taking calculated steps to stand up for injustice in the poor, in the lonely, in the forgotten faces of this world. Jesus didn't need any mulligans and I don't want to need them either.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Tough Love For A Flat Head
Tuesday I took our sweet baby girl to her 4 month check up. All is fine except she's beginning to develop a flat head. Ask my mother and she'll blame this generation's rule not allowing tummy sleep, but the doctor said she needs more awake tummy time. At 4 months, she hasn't rolled over yet and screams so the Russians can hear when I put her on her tummy time play mat. Ten minutes of screaming twice a day won't hurt her, says the doc. So I come home and attempt to suffer through ten minutes watching the poor girl scream.
As I'm watching her wailing little body with one eye and the other on the clock, I began to ache with her, so identifying with that pain. It seemed familiar to me, seeing her kick and scream, helpless to get out on her own. The worst part I think, was that she knew I was there watching her. Why wasn't I saving her from this misery, she must have thought.
The scene seemed familiar to me because I'm on my own tummy time play mat right now. This whole situation with her birth father and the uncertainty of who will be her forever parents is nauseatingly similar. I couldn't be more powerless to get us out of this situation. In fact, every attempt from my tenacious personality to fix this has been shut down. I've been forced to rely solely on my prayers, the ferocious prayers of my friends and family and the steadfast love of The Lord. What??? Rely on Him alone?! But, I'm so used to fixing things with His help on the side. That's the way I like it. That's what's comfortable. This way hurts. Really bad.
And so my cycle each day is wake up fighting anxiety and fear, beg The Lord to take this away, cry, declare His goodness, fight anxiety and fear, beg The Lord to take this away, cry...I think you see the pattern. This gets particularly exhausting while taking care of four kids and a home.
And sometimes the worst part is knowing that He's there with me, watching me, aching for me, but won't save me. I want to be angry at Him. I want to scream! But, I know He's a much better Daddy then I am a Mommy and he doesn't want me to have a spiritual flat head anymore than I want my sweet baby to have a physical one. He knows that pain for a little while yields victory for eternity and He won't rob me of that victory because I'm uncomfortable with pain.
Honestly, right now, the understanding of this doesn't make it better. I'm still desperate for Him every moment and continue to beg Him to move mountains and shake the ground so we can raise this beautiful girl as our own. But seeing His perspective in a natural way does remind me of His vast love for me and I know His heart has only good for me.
As I'm watching her wailing little body with one eye and the other on the clock, I began to ache with her, so identifying with that pain. It seemed familiar to me, seeing her kick and scream, helpless to get out on her own. The worst part I think, was that she knew I was there watching her. Why wasn't I saving her from this misery, she must have thought.
The scene seemed familiar to me because I'm on my own tummy time play mat right now. This whole situation with her birth father and the uncertainty of who will be her forever parents is nauseatingly similar. I couldn't be more powerless to get us out of this situation. In fact, every attempt from my tenacious personality to fix this has been shut down. I've been forced to rely solely on my prayers, the ferocious prayers of my friends and family and the steadfast love of The Lord. What??? Rely on Him alone?! But, I'm so used to fixing things with His help on the side. That's the way I like it. That's what's comfortable. This way hurts. Really bad.
And so my cycle each day is wake up fighting anxiety and fear, beg The Lord to take this away, cry, declare His goodness, fight anxiety and fear, beg The Lord to take this away, cry...I think you see the pattern. This gets particularly exhausting while taking care of four kids and a home.
And sometimes the worst part is knowing that He's there with me, watching me, aching for me, but won't save me. I want to be angry at Him. I want to scream! But, I know He's a much better Daddy then I am a Mommy and he doesn't want me to have a spiritual flat head anymore than I want my sweet baby to have a physical one. He knows that pain for a little while yields victory for eternity and He won't rob me of that victory because I'm uncomfortable with pain.
Honestly, right now, the understanding of this doesn't make it better. I'm still desperate for Him every moment and continue to beg Him to move mountains and shake the ground so we can raise this beautiful girl as our own. But seeing His perspective in a natural way does remind me of His vast love for me and I know His heart has only good for me.
Monday, December 10, 2012
When Tomato Sauce Hits the Floor
It's been a wild day...and it's only 3:06 pm. This morning, I woke up, fed the baby, welcomed my daycare child, got dressed, fed the baby, changed the baby, dressed the baby, put the baby to sleep, cleaned our room, scrubbed our bathroom, put away some laundry, fed the baby, changed the baby, loaded car seats, took three munchkins to the post office, mailed my Christmas cards, stopped at the ATM and met my hubby for lunch...with three munchkins. That was all by 12pm. You should stop and note here that in the above list you did NOT see "loaded and turned on crockpot" because, well, it didn't happen even though it should have. So, at 1pm, I went on a mad dash to get the crockpot loaded and turned on hoping that the dish that is supposed to cook on low for six hours will be just as good cooking on high for three hours. This mad dash led me to a true moment.
While browning ground meat and measuring oregano, I began opening a can of tomato sauce. I guess I misjudged my counter space because as the opener unlocked the last little bit of lid, the whole can fell over and spilled on the floor. No wait. It splattered on the floor. Nope. It exploded all over the floor, cabinet and drawers below. Nice. It looked pretty spiffy next to the whole diced onion I had dropped a few minutes before off the opposite counter. And to make matters worse, as I went to clean it up, my phone rang with an important call from our foster/adopt agency that I have been waiting for since Friday. I had to answer it.
Twenty-five minutes later, I'm riding another roller coaster of emotion and trying to make sense of what-in-the-world is going on with this case now?! I went to type a quick email to our caseworker and decided to leave a voicemail instead. I contemplated sitting at my computer and screaming and decided against it so, I walked into the kitchen and saw that not only was there tomato sauce still EVERYWHERE, but the already tardy crockpot, had still not been turned on.
I raced to get the final things in the pot (including a spare tomato sauce) and flipped the switch to high. Now to tackle the spilled sauce, which by now has become BFF's with the floor and refuses to be separated with a simple paper towel. This clean-up job required me to be on my hands and knees scrubbing. I went all in and as I did, the emotional roller coaster from today's case drama decided to come racing to the surface. I was on my knees, bowed down and...crying. Then I heard sweet Holy Spirit say, "You're at my feet anyway. Why don't you just lay it down?"
In a swift second, I knew why the tomato sauce had spilled in the first place and I was wrecked. I ended up laying down on the clean spot below me and crying my guts out to the Lord. "Move Heaven and Earth, Lord. Shift the heavenlies and the spiritual realm. Protect my baby from harm. But whatever you do, Lord, take this from me because I need you. I'm laying it down, again."
There are most often times in my life that things spill on the floor, stuff hits the fan or I lose control and I use those situations as ammo for my anger, fear and rebellion. And then there are days like today, when I find that Jesus will meet me in the place of my brokenness and need even if it's in the middle of an explosion of tomato sauce. For His presence anywhere, I am so grateful.
To our amazing prayer partners, please continue to pray! Cry out to the Lord on our baby girl's behalf and ask God to speak to each party involved for clear direction from Him. Please pray for utmost protection for our baby girl and for a quick resolution to this case in her favor. Pray against confusion and fear. There is stuff happening and we KNOW that the Lord bends His ear to listen so we will pray as long as we have breath (Psalm 116:2) We are so thankful for your commitment to pray with us.
While browning ground meat and measuring oregano, I began opening a can of tomato sauce. I guess I misjudged my counter space because as the opener unlocked the last little bit of lid, the whole can fell over and spilled on the floor. No wait. It splattered on the floor. Nope. It exploded all over the floor, cabinet and drawers below. Nice. It looked pretty spiffy next to the whole diced onion I had dropped a few minutes before off the opposite counter. And to make matters worse, as I went to clean it up, my phone rang with an important call from our foster/adopt agency that I have been waiting for since Friday. I had to answer it.
Twenty-five minutes later, I'm riding another roller coaster of emotion and trying to make sense of what-in-the-world is going on with this case now?! I went to type a quick email to our caseworker and decided to leave a voicemail instead. I contemplated sitting at my computer and screaming and decided against it so, I walked into the kitchen and saw that not only was there tomato sauce still EVERYWHERE, but the already tardy crockpot, had still not been turned on.
I raced to get the final things in the pot (including a spare tomato sauce) and flipped the switch to high. Now to tackle the spilled sauce, which by now has become BFF's with the floor and refuses to be separated with a simple paper towel. This clean-up job required me to be on my hands and knees scrubbing. I went all in and as I did, the emotional roller coaster from today's case drama decided to come racing to the surface. I was on my knees, bowed down and...crying. Then I heard sweet Holy Spirit say, "You're at my feet anyway. Why don't you just lay it down?"
In a swift second, I knew why the tomato sauce had spilled in the first place and I was wrecked. I ended up laying down on the clean spot below me and crying my guts out to the Lord. "Move Heaven and Earth, Lord. Shift the heavenlies and the spiritual realm. Protect my baby from harm. But whatever you do, Lord, take this from me because I need you. I'm laying it down, again."
There are most often times in my life that things spill on the floor, stuff hits the fan or I lose control and I use those situations as ammo for my anger, fear and rebellion. And then there are days like today, when I find that Jesus will meet me in the place of my brokenness and need even if it's in the middle of an explosion of tomato sauce. For His presence anywhere, I am so grateful.
To our amazing prayer partners, please continue to pray! Cry out to the Lord on our baby girl's behalf and ask God to speak to each party involved for clear direction from Him. Please pray for utmost protection for our baby girl and for a quick resolution to this case in her favor. Pray against confusion and fear. There is stuff happening and we KNOW that the Lord bends His ear to listen so we will pray as long as we have breath (Psalm 116:2) We are so thankful for your commitment to pray with us.
Friday, November 30, 2012
It's All Relative
Recently, we got an insurance settlement that enabled us to replace the floors in 75% of our house that previously had old, damaged, pink tile. I have never liked that tile. Combine the age and the relentless West Texas dirt and wind, it was just hard to keep clean. I would find myself complaining about it from time to time throughout the years and then almost immediately be reminded of the sweet ladies in Mexico who sweep their dirt floors in their one room houses each day. My discomfort is only relative to my prosperity.
It happens in a lot of areas if we stop and think about it. I like watching home buying television shows, but when the family says, "Oh, we couldn't possibly get by without three bathrooms...granite counter tops....a pool..." I think, really? Millions of people all over the world get by with a lot less than an out house. Relative.
I don't think that having nice things or desiring beautiful things is bad. I just think that we tend to measure what "need" by what we think we should have, not really what we actually need or even deserve for that matter.
This struggle comes out in me in non-materialistic ways too. I have really found myself judgmental and envious of anybody I see recently with a baby. They don't know me at all or what we're dealing with right now and yet I am secretly angry at them inside because they don't have to worry about the possibility of losing their child. I read a blog the other day about a young mother facing a big disappointment in her life and I thought, "Big deal. No one is telling you they might take your babies from you." Yucky thoughts from my true heart. More proof that I desperately need more grace and gentle transformation from my merciful Savior.
But, in true merciful style, He is gentle when reminding me about all the mothers in the world holding babies carrying cancer and other diseases or the poor, sweet mothers carrying children in their womb they know will pass away shortly after birth. How do they look at me laughing and playing with my little lambs and reconcile their situation? It's all relative.
I don't know how to change the way this happens in me or anyone else. I look to Jesus, the most sincere, kind, loving, strong and giving person to walk this earth. I have to believe that because He was all God and all man, He knew from the moment He started His ministry (maybe earlier?) that He was going to die. And yet, He spent three years pouring into ungrateful, shaky-faithed men and loving everyone He met with wild abandon. I want to be like Him. If I was Him, I would have been running around yelling at everyone, "You're hungry?! I'm going to die for YOU! What do you think of that?!?!" Wise choice, God, on not making me the Savior of the world.
My desires, prayers, wants, needs, hopes and dreams are all relative to where I live, what I have and really, who I am. May I live each day remembering that circumstances do not define me, there are always others who are hurting more than me, and loving and giving my life for others makes looking like Jesus a little more relative to me.
It happens in a lot of areas if we stop and think about it. I like watching home buying television shows, but when the family says, "Oh, we couldn't possibly get by without three bathrooms...granite counter tops....a pool..." I think, really? Millions of people all over the world get by with a lot less than an out house. Relative.
I don't think that having nice things or desiring beautiful things is bad. I just think that we tend to measure what "need" by what we think we should have, not really what we actually need or even deserve for that matter.
This struggle comes out in me in non-materialistic ways too. I have really found myself judgmental and envious of anybody I see recently with a baby. They don't know me at all or what we're dealing with right now and yet I am secretly angry at them inside because they don't have to worry about the possibility of losing their child. I read a blog the other day about a young mother facing a big disappointment in her life and I thought, "Big deal. No one is telling you they might take your babies from you." Yucky thoughts from my true heart. More proof that I desperately need more grace and gentle transformation from my merciful Savior.
But, in true merciful style, He is gentle when reminding me about all the mothers in the world holding babies carrying cancer and other diseases or the poor, sweet mothers carrying children in their womb they know will pass away shortly after birth. How do they look at me laughing and playing with my little lambs and reconcile their situation? It's all relative.
I don't know how to change the way this happens in me or anyone else. I look to Jesus, the most sincere, kind, loving, strong and giving person to walk this earth. I have to believe that because He was all God and all man, He knew from the moment He started His ministry (maybe earlier?) that He was going to die. And yet, He spent three years pouring into ungrateful, shaky-faithed men and loving everyone He met with wild abandon. I want to be like Him. If I was Him, I would have been running around yelling at everyone, "You're hungry?! I'm going to die for YOU! What do you think of that?!?!" Wise choice, God, on not making me the Savior of the world.
My desires, prayers, wants, needs, hopes and dreams are all relative to where I live, what I have and really, who I am. May I live each day remembering that circumstances do not define me, there are always others who are hurting more than me, and loving and giving my life for others makes looking like Jesus a little more relative to me.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
A Thankful Heart Is a Happy Heart
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and we do have a lot to be thankful for. Confession: the stress of our current situation with M&M baby leaves me more anxious than thankful, I'm sad to say. There are things I KNOW in my brain like, God is faithful. He didn't bring us to this point to leave us here. He loves M&M and us more than we can imagine and has good in His heart for us. I can't add a single second to my life by worrying. BUT, in the moments of my day, I find myself analyzing every word spoken by the powers that be in the case and angling each potential moves from each player like I'm in the chess match of my life. It's exhausting. So today, I just want to be thankful. I just want to relish in the moments that God has given us NOW. As I type, I have two beautiful girls entrusted to me. One is on the verge of young womanhood with bright eyes each day learning more and more. Another is literally finding her feet...and her tongue...and her voice and discovering all that she has in this exciting world. Both have the biggest smiles that melt mine and their daddy's heart. I am thankful for a husband who works hard for his family, who fights for them fearlessly, who stands up in the face of anything or anyone that would oppose them and who admits when he's wrong and seeks to do better next time. I am thankful for the opportunity to be thankful and to be in circumstances that draw me to trust more and more in my Savior.
Below is one of my favorite songs. Yes, it's a Veggie Tale song. But, around our house, we try to sing it often to remind us that we have all we need today to be thankful. Enjoy and Happy Thanksgiving!
Below is one of my favorite songs. Yes, it's a Veggie Tale song. But, around our house, we try to sing it often to remind us that we have all we need today to be thankful. Enjoy and Happy Thanksgiving!
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Taken For Granted
Have you ever thought about the things you take for granted in your life? I thought about some of those things today. I live my life everyday doing much the same things each one of those days and most of the time I barely give a nod to the bigger-than-me miracles that are the wallpaper of my life.
For instance, since today is voting day, I realized how often I forget what a privilege it is to be free. It's not really a right. Someone set me free, both in nationality and spiritually. But I go in and out of my world, demanding my way in parking lots and customer service calls and the like ignoring the fact that I can speak out loud at all.
Then, I realized how much I take for granted that my daughter is mine-no one is going to take her away from me or lay claim to her. Only five years out from the best day of my life when a judge declared her ours, I barely remember the the time when I held my breath round the clock day in and out praying with all I was to have her be mine forever.
And finally, I realized today how much I take the tangible presence of Holy Spirit for granted. Sitting in a court room today, overcome with anxiety that I thought would swallow me, I called out to Him pleading to feel Him there with me, to know that I wasn't alone. At that moment I looked up at the American and Texas flags that flanked the judge's bench. On the top perched two golden eagles. I was immediately reminded about the eagle's story my dear friend Mindy had shared with me many times. Eagles, Mindy says, aren't like any other creature in nature. When a storm comes, instead of turning for shelter away from it, the eagle will go toward the storm, pressing through the storm clouds until the winds lift their wings high above the clouds where they can soar. They use the storm to their benefit to get to the high place and then watch it from above, relaxing in their natural flight. Those golden eagles on the flag poles were Holy Spirit's sign He was with me, giving me strength to press above the storm and soar in His peace. How do I ever take such a gift for granted?
I don't want to take the power of prayer for granted either. Prayer changes things, this I believe with my whole heart. Over and over in the Word, God instructs us to pray and petition Him for the things on our heart. He is not a Father who doesn't hear or care and just like the "petition" of my children, wanting something, we are to plead with Him, bringing our requests to Him regularly. If you would join us in these petitions, here are the things we are pleading before the Lord right now:
For instance, since today is voting day, I realized how often I forget what a privilege it is to be free. It's not really a right. Someone set me free, both in nationality and spiritually. But I go in and out of my world, demanding my way in parking lots and customer service calls and the like ignoring the fact that I can speak out loud at all.
Then, I realized how much I take for granted that my daughter is mine-no one is going to take her away from me or lay claim to her. Only five years out from the best day of my life when a judge declared her ours, I barely remember the the time when I held my breath round the clock day in and out praying with all I was to have her be mine forever.
And finally, I realized today how much I take the tangible presence of Holy Spirit for granted. Sitting in a court room today, overcome with anxiety that I thought would swallow me, I called out to Him pleading to feel Him there with me, to know that I wasn't alone. At that moment I looked up at the American and Texas flags that flanked the judge's bench. On the top perched two golden eagles. I was immediately reminded about the eagle's story my dear friend Mindy had shared with me many times. Eagles, Mindy says, aren't like any other creature in nature. When a storm comes, instead of turning for shelter away from it, the eagle will go toward the storm, pressing through the storm clouds until the winds lift their wings high above the clouds where they can soar. They use the storm to their benefit to get to the high place and then watch it from above, relaxing in their natural flight. Those golden eagles on the flag poles were Holy Spirit's sign He was with me, giving me strength to press above the storm and soar in His peace. How do I ever take such a gift for granted?
I don't want to take the power of prayer for granted either. Prayer changes things, this I believe with my whole heart. Over and over in the Word, God instructs us to pray and petition Him for the things on our heart. He is not a Father who doesn't hear or care and just like the "petition" of my children, wanting something, we are to plead with Him, bringing our requests to Him regularly. If you would join us in these petitions, here are the things we are pleading before the Lord right now:
- The He would permanently establish our M&M baby in this family.
- That He would give us His peace and sustain us through this roller coaster of emotions we face each day.
- That He would use this time to grow us in His likeness, teaching us how to give Him glory and praise in all things.
- That He would work miraculously in the hearts and minds of birth families, judges, attorneys and case workers that are involved in this case to do His will for the glory of His name.
- That our M&M baby would be consecrated to Him all the days of her life, no matter which home she grows in and that she would love Him and live her life for His glory.
- That our precious Raylen would be guarded and protected from the emotional ups and downs as we navigate this road.
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