Apr 022010

A guest post, from our Mike.

I love it when an artist finds a creative way to take something that has become worn or broken and make it like new, but better. Easter has become one of those worn out things in my life, despite my growing faith in God. While I can tell you all about the religious significance of Easter, for me personally, it has signified brokenness. Broken dreams, broken promises, and a broken family.

Twenty years ago. During some frantic holiday preparations, and argument erupted between my parents. It was one of those epic arguments that only ended when infidelity was confirmed and a separation planned. The marriage had been weakening for years as they each chased after their own definition of the American Dream, so why shouldn’t the “dream” end like most? Because we were that “religious” family everyone had in their neighborhood. We even had a pillar at the front of the driveway reading: The Clarke Family, “See Ye the Kingdom of God.” And the holiday they were preparing to host was Easter Sunrise Service…in my front yeard. Thankfully, the service rained out that morning but I would have been a no-show either way. If my family was the best that God could do for me, I decided to pass.

Insert and fast forward past 10 years of cliché’debauchery, where I tried to run from the Truth that my parents talked better than they walked. Years of putting hope in other things and other people, and being disappointed when reality didn’t measure up. My last ten years have been a crawl, walk, and recently a sprint back to my perfect Father. He and I have gotten to be quite close as I’ve been asking Him…OK, begging him…to let me be a father and to give my wife and I a family. After we answered his call to adopt, wewatched our projected six month wait turn to twenty-six and counting. I struggled with how a “Perfect Father” could hold out on me.

But He, being the ultimate Dad, had something better than we could ever imagine. He took this time to grow our relationship with Him (and each other). He blessed us with friends with the same heart for Him and His heart for orphans. Friendships so tight that late night prayer or praise conferences are a common occurrence. Most importantly, He took this time to demonstrate that He is more that we could ever want.

A couple of weeks ago, the circumstances of our adoption journey led us for the first time to pray for peace in the reality that maybe kids weren’t in the plan and for the strength and joy that comes from knowing that He is more than enough.

The next week we received an from our orphanage in Uganda, asking us to come meet our kids (that “s” ain’t a typo). With less than three weeks of notice, preparations have been a bit frantic. Since our travel dates were picked by the orphanage and the flights by their travel agent, you can understand why it took me a while to realize the significance of tickets reading, Arrival: 0700, 4APR10.

Our dreams and His promise will come true in the Easter sunrise service of a lifetime.

He makes all things new.

Happy Easter, Monkees. Kiss your babies for us, Mike and Megan.

Carry On, Warrior
Author of the New York Times Bestselling Memoir CARRY ON, WARRIOR
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Apr 012010

Fourteen years ago, Monkee Krystal and I met each other chatting online, and we formed a friendship full of laughter. After many years of parties, boy chasing, heartbreak, kids, and husbands, we still get a kick out of online chatting. Below is a recent conversation between Krys, me, and our friend Kessie.

[20:20] adrianne> my son has that twinkle in his eye. he’s going to be bad, i think.
[20:20] krystal> yea, max spent 45 minutes tonight going through the crud in the couch cushions and eating it
[20:21] adrianne> hahahaha
[20:21] krystal> when he got to the marble i said “NO. JUST NO”
[20:21] krystal> he said “pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?”
[20:21] krystal> it was so sweet that i just said “ok, i guess”
[20:21] krystal> :p

[20:21] adrianne> HAHAHAHAH

[20:21] adrianne> yeah grey likes to pull himself up on his high chair and eat the chunks of food that are left in the seat
[20:21] kesseret> hahahaha marbles don’t really hurt coming out, staples do.
[20:21] krystal> hahahahah

[20:22] kesseret> at least that’s what my mom tells us (I ate staples as a kid)
[20:22] adrianne> well trent saw a red polly pocket shoe in grey’s poop today
[20:22] krystal> HAHAHA
[20:22] kesseret> oh MAN! rofl at polly pocket shoes
[20:22] krystal> i hope it wasn’t a stiletto, that could HURT
[20:22] kesseret> did he ‘fish it out’
[20:22] adrianne> no he just saw it, laughed, and flushed

Carry On, Warrior
Author of the New York Times Bestselling Memoir CARRY ON, WARRIOR
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Mar 312010

Craig and I felt very tired after Christmas this year, so instead of disposing of our Christmas tree properly, we threw it on the back porch and left it lying there for months. One morning in late February, I looked out at the abandoned tree on the porch floor and noticed that it looked much smaller than I remembered it. I was curious about that. A week later I looked outside again and saw that the tree was smaller still. What had originally been an eight foot tree now looked like it couldn’t be much longer than I. I realized that the tree was decomposing, right there on my porch floor, without the help of worms or soil or any of the other Earthy things I had always thought were necessary for decomposition. Forever the teacher, I was delighted to have a science experiment that Chase and I could experience together.

One morning I walked Chase to our glass doors and pointed out the shrinking tree on the porch floor. He was amazed. We bundled up and went out on the porch to measure the tree together. We discovered that the tree was three feet shorter than it was in its glory days, when it stood proudly in our family room. Chase was fascinated. We discussed the process of decomposition and he asked me a lot of questions about how a tree could decompose in an enclosed room and I widened my eyes and said it’s amazing, isn’t it? I told him it must be decomposing due to all the air and also, you know, all the science. Each morning, Chase and I sat on the floor side by side, looked through the glass doors at the Christmas tree on the porch floor, and observed it shrink smaller and smaller still. Chase was thrilled. I patted myself on the back for being such a conscientious and sciency mom.

One morning, while Chase and I were sitting on the floor, staring at the tree, and discussing our amazement that it was now clearly just INCHES long… Craig walked up behind us. He heard the tail end of our conversation and interrupted us with the following:

Husband: “Glennon, what are you talking about?”

Me: “Chase and I have been observing this tree for a month. Husband, It’s AMAZING. The tree gets smaller everyday. We had no idea things could decompose at this rate and INSIDE. So cool. Chase has even talked to his teacher about it.”

I waited for Husband to be dazzled by my extraordinary parenting and teaching and observation skills.

Husband: Silence.

Me: Scared.

Husband: Glennon. I’ve been using the tree for firewood.

I start homeschooling in three days. It’ll be fine.

Carry On, Warrior
Author of the New York Times Bestselling Memoir CARRY ON, WARRIOR
Join the Momastery on-line community on Facebook, Twitter & Pinterest