It was 6:15, and I was sitting in my green chair, the one where you can always find me at about that time. I may be reading, my 5 lb. ESV on my lap giving me comfort the same way a weighted blanket would. I may be writing in my spiral notebook that I never leave home without. I may just be there, eyes shut, trying to focus long enough to really have a conversation with God. Regardless, most mornings I’m there, coffee in hand, enjoying the quiet and the light of the lamp beside me as the world outside is still waking up.

How could I feel tired when the day had not yet even started? It was a different kind of tired, not the kind that another 30 minutes of sleep cures. It was the kind of tired that led me to ask God to fill me and give me what I needed so I could serve with boldness and compassion. As soon as I had asked, I felt as if God replied; He wanted me to ask for something more. It isn’t just boldness and compassion that I need; I need something richer, deeper still. What I need is bold compassion and compassionate boldness. It’s a minor change in verbiage, I know, but a weighted change.

I can no longer get away with 11-o’clock-news compassion, you know, the kind of compassion that lasts about 2 minutes until something else pops up and distracts me from it. I’m pretty good at that kind of compassion. I can put my hand on my chest, wax poetic, say the right things, sound affected, and honestly feel like I am…for a couple minutes. And, then something else grabs my attention, and life moves on. But, I need bold compassion, the kind of compassion that breaks my heart a little, makes my stomach hurt, compelling compassion that moves me to some sort of action be it small or not so small. It’s compassion that disrupts my day and my plan, makes life uncomfortable. It’s compassion that changes me and that God miraculously uses to change the world. Give me that compassion, God.

And, the boldness I asked God for? I was picturing some sort of triune boldness, boldness for me to step up, stand up, and speak up. That kind of boldness seems empowering, right? I step up. I stand up. I speak up. I’m seen. I’m heard. I’m…I’m…I’m… Do you hear that? That kind of boldness may produce something good; it could lead to some world change. But, I’d be patting myself on the back when it did. He wants something more from me. I need a different kind of boldness entirely, boldness for action that isn’t focused on me at all, compassionate boldness that makes my life different before seeking to make others’ lives different, cross-shaped boldness that makes me willing to die to myself for the good of someone else. Give me that boldness, God.

Everybody needs opportunities that drive them to such fatigue to ask God for big things so God can speak and mold their hearts and change what they’re asking for. And, maybe everybody needs a green chair and good coffee to drink while they’re in it.

I write a lot about adoption; there’s a lot I overthink about adoption. But, the part of adoption that most woos my heart? It’s the redemption of brokenness. Through adoption, somehow, a broken interwoven story of the birth family unable to parent, the family longing for a child, and the child who needs a family to pursue and love miraculously is redeemed. That’s the beauty of adoption.

It’s Easter. It’s the day we celebrate another miracle, one that the experience of earthly adoption only reflects albeit imperfectly. It’s the real Orphan Sunday, the day Christians have set apart for centuries to remember what Christ did when He gave His life so that we could live, what He did when He bled and died to pay the penalty of our sin served as that red ink fingerprint on the adoption paperwork. We no longer are separated from God, broken and without hope; through Christ, we are adopted into His family, loved not only as children of God but seen only as fully His children because that’s what Christ’s death and resurrection made us.

I won’t stop writing about adoption here. One of my most significant callings is as a mother to both children who were born to me and one who was not born to me–all of whom are fully my children. Adoption is close to my heart. I’m just going to add to the conversation a bit, sharing my own adoption story and encouraging others to do the same. Because sharing our stories–that’s often what God uses to help people see Him in a new way, doesn’t He?

This Easter, when the sugar high becomes a low and the family dinner and dishes are done, I want you to think about sharing your story. Maybe this week or the week after that, if you’ve never shared your adoption story before, set apart some time to think it through, jot down some notes or put them into a Word document. Write your story since He’s already written it for you. Read it over, practice it, know it. Maybe share it with your husband; maybe your mom; maybe your children. I want to share a few of your stories right here too. Let me know if you’re open to having your story shared. There’s something about sharing them publicly together in one spot–it’s when a blog becomes worship.

As you’re considering your story or your testimony, here are some questions to get you thinking. You don’t have to answer all these, they are just to help you remember, help you better organize and communicate. I’m hoping they help.

My story before I accepted Christ or gave Him complete control of my life:

1. What was my life like that someone who doesn’t yet know Christ would relate to?
2. What did my life revolve around the most? 
3. What did I get my security or happiness from? 
4. How did those areas let me down?

My story of receiving Christ or giving Him complete control of my life:

1. When was the first time I heard the gospel or recognized dynamic Christianity in someone’s life?
2. What were my initial reactions? 
3. When did my attitude begin to turn around? Why? 
4. What were the final struggles that went through my mind just before I accepted Christ? 
5. Why did I go ahead and accept Christ? 

My story after I accepted Christ or gave Him complete control of my life:

1. What are some specific changes in my life evident either immediately or over time? 
2. Why am I motivated differently?
3. How do I see myself, God, and/or life differently? 

‘Tis the season for mothers everywhere to be running around scrubbing bathrooms, packing bags, baking cookies, and tying ribbons on packages. (please tell me I’m not the only one.)

But, when visions of sugar plums dance in your little ones’ heads and no creature is stirring except for your mouse, here are some links worth lingering on.

Incarnation – This is definitely one to linger on. It was written by Sarah Styles Bessey on the blog A Deeper Story: Tales of Christ and Culture. Sarah talks here about the “mess of the incarnation” and the experience of Christ’s birth. Beautiful post. Beware, all the Christmas posts on this blog will suck. you. in. Amazing stuff there. I am now a subscriber.

The Christmas Conspiracy – Forbes magazine features an article on the Advent Conspiracy. Excited that it’s hitting mainstream and getting some attention among whoever it is who reads Forbes’ site…which I imagine is a big ole audience.

Here, Lara, the farmer’s wife, tells all why she “does” Santa with her kiddos. We don’t. But, I am always intrigued by the whole To Santa or Not To Santa question.

Kristi puts the rest of us to shame with her Gingerbread Soiree. I mean, seriously…get ready to feel like you have zero creativity in comparison. I have vowed I will make those adorable snowman drinks for my clan sometime this winter. Please remind me of my vow come February.

Amy at Mom’s Toolbox gives instructions on how to make a mommy and kids’ activities advent calendar. Yes, too late for this year unless you want to do…well…one activity. Bookmark it for next year.

Lindsay at Passionate Homemaking shares some questions written by Donald Whitney to help you around the table on Christmas to have some significant Christ-centered dialogue. Whether you are celebrating with 25 or 5, these questions are totally worth lingering on. I’m stealing a few. Wonder how they’ll go over with my goofy uncle who always greets me with “Happy Festivus!”

Levi Benkert from Bring Love In shares how he attempts to explain the concept of the fat man in the red suit in Ethiopia. Apparently, I’m not the only one who thinks all the Santa stuff is strange.

And, last but not least…not exactly a Christmas link except that it is about a gift…or more like 10,000 gifts. My way-cooler-than-me friend Colleen, mommy of 4, 2 of whom were adopted from Uganda, is advocating for the amazing ministry Sixty Feet. If they get enough votes here, they will get a grant of $10,000 for their work. It takes a millisecond. And, they are SO close to winning. Consider it your gift to Sixty Feet.

Any posts you want to share? Lay ’em on me.