Thoughts on anonymity

Last week, Jeff and I attended Catalyst 2012 in Atlanta with 13,000 others. It was amazing, as I knew it would be. The music was phenomenal; the speaking was passionate and engaging. The energy was contagious. I was prepared for all of that. What I wasn't prepared for was the resonating in my spirit every day since we've been home, the words I keep hearing repeated in my head, beckoning me to be more, do more, believe more.

One phrase keeps repeating over and over, louder than the rest. It is this: "It is better to be marked by God than to be marketed by man" (Christine Caine)

Initially, I thought to myself "Well, sure that's better. Being marked by God: what could be better than that?" But then it hit me that I don't really live like that's the better choice. If I'm blatantly, painfully honest with myself (and you too), I will admit that this is sometimes a struggle for me. I confess that I like to be known, to be noticed, appreciated, recognized. My human nature cries out for it at times when I least expect it.

I've wrestled with this notion of of being known recently in my writing. I've asked myself "Who really cares what I have to say?" one minute then "What if no one wants to read this?" the next. But what I know is this: I am writing because God told me to write the story. If no one ever reads it other than me and Jeff, well, God STILL told me to do it, so there is still purpose within.  

But will I be "ok" with that? Really?

What if no one ever knows that my passion is for getting clean water to everyone in Ethiopia? Does that diminish the importance of such a task? No, not at all. It simply diminishes my name, and that's where I want to be really. I want to be okay with no one ever knowing me, but instead knowing the God who calls me to act.

Anonymity is a lost art in today's world. We live in a society that screams for notoriety and fame. We live in a world that says if we aren't recognized, we aren't worthy. We live in a world that says if we are last, we are least. We live in a society that tells us in order to be someone, we must have more money, more fame, more house, more car, more clothes, more facebook friends, more blog followers, more tweets, more more more...

But God tells me that "The first will be last and the last will be first". (Matthew 20:16). His word says "What does it profit a man if he gains the whole world, yet loses his own soul?" (Matthew 16:26). It tells me "If you do not give up everything you have, you cannot be my disciple" (Luke 14:33)

My prayer is that I become more and more anonymous in my life, and that Jesus become more elevated, more known because of my life. Here's the truth that is ringing in my ears: My life is for His glory, not mine.So if man never knows the name of Holly Prosser, so be it. I have purpose to fulfill regardless. Oh, how I want to bring Him honor and fame. Change my heart, God. Mark me for your work. I'm ready. I'm willing.

Thanks be to God.

No tears here...

In just 12 short days, my daughter will begin Kindergarten and my son his senior year of high school. I'm trying really hard to wrap my head around those two facts. Seriously y'all, how can I be old enough to have a senior in high school already, yet young enough to have a kindergartner? Yet another proof that God has a wonderful sense of humor. (On a side note, I sat through Ellie's kindergarten orientation the other night looking at all the incredibly young moms around me and thought to myself "What in the blazes am I doing here? I could be their mother!". But I digress...)


I've had more than one person recently tell me things such as "You're gonna be a mess on that day!" or "Just wait to see how your heart drops when your son is preparing to graduate" or my personal favorite, "Their first day of school will be your worst day of the year. Get ready". Seriously people, is this supposed to comfort me?? But it has got me to thinkin', and I think I may be the weirdest mom out there because y'all, I AM NOT SAD ABOUT THIS.

Before I get hate mail from people telling me how horrible it is that I have just said I am not sad about these milestones, let me explain. (If you still want to send me hate mail, go on. You won't be the first, I can assure you.) I love the milestones of life my children have faced and will still face in the future. And I'm not a callous person; I cry all the time these days (now THAT is a change from the days of old!). I shed a few tears when Ellie went to pre-K last year, and I shed even more when Bryan walked out of the courthouse with his driver's permit earlier this year, I mean, come on, I'm no freak. My kids are growing up, and there's a twinge of sadness about that. Each step through a milestone is one step closer to the door to the world outside of our home.

But isn't that what our purpose is? To raise our kids in a Godly manner so that they can flourish and spread His light to others once they leave our home? Isn't that why I've spent more time than I can count on my knees before my Father asking Him to pour His spirit into their hearts? Isn't that why I pray Ephesians 3:14-20 over them every day? (go read it now, y'all. I didn't type that for nothing!)

Here's my take on school. This is nothing to be sad about to me.

First day of preschool 2009

For Ellie, if there are tears on my face, it is not because I'm sad. Quite the contrary! That child was, just three years ago, sitting in an orphanage in Woliso Ethiopia with no hope of ever being taught anything other than survival skills. Her birth mother cannot read or write, and her biggest dream for Ellie is that she will learn. So, when I see my big girl walking with that massive backpack, carrying that sweet pink lunchbox, my heart soars. She is a walking miracle, learning more than she or her birth mother ever dared to dream. How can I be sad for that? And when she goes into that room and shares herself with others, I believe that God smiles on that. She is learning not only academically, but to be a friend, to share God's love, to serve others, to be humble, to let others go first, to speak up for herself, to imagine. Nope, I'm not one bit sad about that.



Bryan's first day of high school-2009



My son is a bit different. He is a senior this year. I'm not sad about that either. In fact, my heart sings over this. I've written about him before and the struggles he has had in school and personally. (See my blog from December 31, 2011 for more on this) Last year, we took him out of the public school and did our first year of home school. To say that he did well is a ridiculous understatement. He ROCKED that year! And not only did it show in his grades, but he smiles again. He is confident again. He is growing spiritually again. He is still here with us. Enough said. So, no way am I sad that he is progressing. This is natural, and he is becoming the man I've prayed his whole life that he would become. Don't think that I'm putting him on a pedastal because I'm not; he's a 16 year old boy. He messes up sometimes, no doubt. But he also does the right thing more and more, and I'm learning that I can trust him with more and more. To see him sorting through the decisions that he will have to make in the next year is exciting. I'm trying my best to keep my mouth shut encouraging him to seek God's will and to just pray without ceasing for him. Not always easy for a big mouth like me:)

So, 12 days from now, I doubt you will see many tears from this girl. But if you do... they'll be tears of joy and not sorrow. They'll be proof of my love for the two God has entrusted to Jeff and I to parent. Thanks be to God.

Gotcha Day!

my first time holding ellie! August 9, 2009

Three years! Can it really already have been three years that we welcomed Ellie into our family? My oh my, how time flies when you're having fun! Truth be told, there are days when it is hard to believe she wasn't born into our family. She fits so perfectly with that spunky attitude and quick wit. But then there are days when it feels more like three weeks home instead, when her past trauma rears its ugly head and she is unsure of herself or her place here, not quite trusting that this is for real. Adoption is not easy, in case any of you are wondering.

On those ugly days, I try not to overreact, but honestly that's not easy. She's my daughter, for goodness sake, and when she hurts, I hurt. We ALL hurt when she does. I want to take it all away, take away her memories of "bad stuff in my ethiopia", and I want to replace it all with giggles and rainbows. Seriously, what mom doesn't want that? Yet, in my heart I know this isn't what is best for her. I know that her story makes her who she is. Her spunkiness that we love so much (and is so darn cute!) comes from her hurts. That girl had to fight for survival, and it's made her into a magnificent person. Really, if you don't know her well, you are missing out on something special!

One of my life's greatest joys has been to watch God work out His redemption in her sweet life, to watch Isaiah 61 come to life right before my eyes. He is binding up her broken heart, setting her free of past hurts that have held her captive, comforting her in her mourning the loss of all she knew for the beginning of her life, and is bestowing upon her an amazing crown of beauty. She has joy instead of mourning, praise instead of despair. She truly is a living display of God's splendor. She's the apple of His eye, and it is my utmost pleasure to get the front row seat as her momma.   

In three years,Ellie has learned to trust. She has learned to love freely and to be loved freely. She has learned to play with total abandon (she had NO IDEA how to play when she came home). She has learned to laugh hysterically. She has learned to cry when she needs to because she knows someone will come help her. She has learned to overcome fears. She has learned what family means. She has learned of a Savior who adores her and has a perfect plan for her life. She has learned to love the Cardinals (gotta raise her right!!). She has learned just how awesome it is to have a big brother. She has learned the meaning of "daddy's girl" and to recognize all things ESPN. She has learned what a "girl's night out" is and how good a new pair of pjs feel.

Ellie has learned to live. And because of her, so have I.

I've learned to let go of my selfishness. I've learned to overcome materialism and replace that with relationships. I've learned the difference between want and need. I've learned what it means to grieve and what it means to celebrate. I've learned that the American Dream is not for me, but that I'd rather spend myself (and my money) giving to others than to store it up for later. I've learned that I'm not too old, too fat, too tired, too scared, too whatever to do what God has called me to do. And I've learned that I love the thrill of the journey even more than the result.

Today, I celebrate my daughter. I'm in awe of her resilience, her grace and her innocence. She has overcome more in her 5 years than any one person should ever have to endure. And yet, she smiles and she believes wholeheartedly that there is good in this world. And you know what? She's right; there is.

Ellie, I love you so much. Happy Gotcha Day to you, my sweet Ellie Bean!

I just wanted some beads: A lesson in racism

I'm white. No way around it. Any way you look at me, I am white. 

My daughter is brown (as she puts it). She's gorgeous. Her skin is perfect, silky almost. Her hair is a mess at times, but I love it- tangles and all :)

We are family. It doesn't matter that our skin doesn't "match". It doesn't matter that society's picture of a family is that all members be the same color. That child is mine. Plain and simple. And as any good momma would, I will fight for her. For the record, I'll do that for both of my kids, but this post is about racism, and I digress. 

Yesterday I went into a hair supply store because next week Ellie is getting her hair done, and I wanted some new beads to put in it. I JUST WANTED SOME BEADS, PEOPLE. I was minding my own business, picking out my beads when I overheard a lady in the back of the store say, "Oh great. Here we go again. Another ****** white lady who thinks she has the right to raise one of our black babies. I'm so sick of this". 

I ignored her. It wasn't the time or the place, and she obviously wasn't interested in hearing the statistics of the orphan crisis in Ethiopia and the world.  I JUST WANTED SOME BEADS! 

I went to the check out counter with my beads, and the lady came to the front of the store. I can't write here what she said to me because my momma reads this, and she'd freak out to hear that language from my hand. To be honest, I'm not sure I remember everything she called me or screamed because I JUST WANTED SOME BEADS! 

I paid and made a dash for the door to get out of there. After all, I wasn't interested in hearing anymore of her ranting, and I JUST WANTED SOME BEADS. But she followed me out the front door into the parking lot. I got into my car, and she went to stand behind it so that I couldn't leave. 

Y'all... I JUST WANTED SOME BEADS. Yet here I was thinking that this lady was gonna lose it completely and try to kill me or something. I sat in the car for a few minutes, hoping she'd get tired of screaming and leave me alone. But the store worker called the police because the lady chased me out of the store while holding merchandise she had not yet paid for. Seriously, you can't make this stuff up! 

I JUST WANTED SOME BEADS, but here I was now waiting for the police to come so I could go home. Luckily, there was a police officer next door at the gas station who heard the chaos and came to check things out. He tried talking to her, and she was screaming that I was stealing a baby, that I needed to go to jail, etc etc. He handcuffed her (for shoplifting) and then actually checked my car to make sure I didn't have a baby hidden in there. I told him "I just wanted some beads. She went nuts". 

I was pretty shook up at first, admittedly. But then I was angry. And tonight I'm even more angry. I'm not angry at her per se, but I'm angry at the perception that I'm not good enough to parent my beautiful daughter because I'm white. Now hear me say this: Most people have been amazingly supportive of our journey. But the truth is I don't need the approval of others for this. We did this because Ellie deserved a family, and God led us to her. And I'd do it all over again, even if every single day was like yesterday. Because Ellie is worth it. Her life was no accident, and her being in our family isn't either. 

Ellie belongs here in this family. And if I were green, she'd still belong here. My son happens to be white and look like Jeff and I, and he belongs here too. We see no difference, and I'll defend that with anyone who wants to argue otherwise. I don't know everything there is about raising a brown skinned girl or taking care of Ethiopian hair, but I'm learning. I mess up, and sometimes she goes out with uneven pony tails and messy braids. Sometimes I forget to put lotion on, and her skin gets ashy. Sometimes I forget to put her nightcap on her hair at night, and sometimes I remember but we can't find that darn cap! 

And guess what? I don't know all there is about raising a white boy either, yet here I am doing that too. I screw up with him just as much, if not more, than I do with her Ellie because he's a guy, and well... I'm not. 

But this I do get right: I love my kids. Fiercely. I'd give my very life for either one of them, and never even have to think about it. I love them. I'm not their buddy; I'm their mom. I tell them I love them all the time (sometimes more than they want to hear it). And I mean it. I'm not perfect, not by any stretch of the imagination. But I love them.

 And there is no color to love. It just is. 

So, for those of you out there who may be thinking that this white girl has no business raising a brown girl... keep it to yourself. Because I am tired of hearing it. I'm absolutely done with that kind of garbage. If you could see the things I've seen, the looks on the faces of children who desperately want to belong to a family, you'd understand that color doesn't matter. And you'd stop putting all of this energy into attacking those of us who just want to raise our kids and put it into something that matters in life. I'm absolutely certain that if given the choice between no family and a white family, Ellie would have chose family over color. 

That girl is gonna look awesome in those beads next week!

• Not junk
• Empty

Conviction of my heart...

This morning, I walked into my office ready to face the challenges of the day. I had been jamming to some great praise and worship music on my way in, spent time talking to God this morning and was feeling good. Despite the pitiful night's sleep I got (thank you, crazy CATS!), I was eager to work.

And then my phone rang.

Everything changed when the lady on the phone was at first complaining and blaming me for something I cannot change (I'm not a doctor, okay?), then was yelling at me. This happens a lot in my work. Failure to plan ahead on the part of a parent somehow equals my emergency or my fault. I'm used to it, and most days it doesn't bother me that much. I remind myself of the chaotic lives that many of our families here live, as well as the stress that poverty places on families, and I'm okay to be the one they "vent" to.
But this morning, it went right through me! I was mad. I wanted to yell back at her. Heck, I wanted to call her names too! Believe me when I say that she was MILD in comparison to what I often hear in a day, so I was perplexed as to why I was reacting som vehemently. Yet there I was, wanting to scream and yell and act like a fool. I'm actually quite grateful that she was so angry that she hung up on me!
I sat in my chair for a while, just processing this in my mind. And then I charted what had occurred. And then I opened the Word because obviously my soul was in need of some nourishment!

Scripture says this: "Watch the way you talk. Let nothing foul or dirty come out of your mouth. Say only what helps, each word a gift. Don't grieve God. Don't break his heart. His Holy Spirit, moving and breathing in you, is the most intimate part of your life, making you fit for himself. Don't take such a gift for granted. Make a clean break with all cutting, backbiting, profane talk. Be gentle with one another, sensitive. Forgive one another as quickly and thoroughly as God in Christ forgave you". (Ephesians 4:29-32)

 Humility set in like a hurricane, crashing down the walls of my self-preserving inclinations. The only reason I wanted to lash out at that lady was to make myself look and feel better. And quite frankly, I think that's why all back-biting and negative speak exists. We want to look better, so we point out the flaws of others. We want to feel better, so we make others feel worse. I see it on facebook all the time: people making fun of others, lashing out, pointing out someone's mistakes, making themselves seem bigger than they really are so someone else will look smaller, making others look less important than us by elevating our importance.
Jesus said that the "first shall be last and the last will be first" (in Matthew 19). So why do I spend so much time trying to look better to others? Why not spend my time trying to be more like Christ? I'm guessing Christ would have spoken love to the lady on the phone this morning. I'm guessing He wouldn't speak rudely of having to wait at the doctor's office because He understood that there was another patient who needed the doctor's time emergently. I'm guessing Christ wouldn't proudly announce that he had "told that person off" or "blessed them out", but He would have loved. Simply loved. And by doing so, He changed those around Him for the better.

Thank goodness for second (and third, fourth and fifth) chances. Oh, my phone is ringing again. Wish me luck...

Why I Won't Be Seeing Magic Mike...My Personal Thoughts

This post won't be popular among some, I'm sure. I'm totally okay with that. After all, this is my blog. I've used it mostly to discuss adoption matters, clean water, family things, and my thoughts on this walk with God in life. But I would be completely remiss if I didn't post what is burning in my heart these past few days. I've watched the outpouring of ladies raving about their most recent girl's night out to see "Magic Mike", and really my heart can't take much more.


Before you dismiss me entirely, please hear me out. I don't live in the dark ages. I am certainly not perfect in any stretch of the imagination, so don't hear this as judgmental against anyone who chooses to see it. I'm writing this for one reason: To declare to my husband publicly (and to others who may be struggling with this) that I don't need a movie to make me excited about sex.
Come on, ya'll.... it's totally ok that I said "sex". I mean, after all, isn't that what this is all about? Why else are women of all ages flocking to see this movie? Seriously, these fellas are not going to win Oscars for their acting in this movie. This is about sex, lust, and all those other things that make lots of money at the box office. And I, for one, don't need a movie for that. I've got all the sex I want here at home with a man who is true, devoted, and faithful to me alone.
In all seriousness, what has bothered me the most is to hear ladies talking about how this is "the most excited" they've been in a while. Well, not me....

Jeff and I have been married almost 19 years (august 7th we will celebrate that anniversary!), and my stomach still has butterflies when he walks in the room. He still "makes my liver quiver", "turns me on", "gets me going", or however else you want to explain it. The fact of the matter is... He's the only one for me. And no one else is supposed to get the privilege of doing that for me. No one (or no thing, aka movie) is supposed to turn my head the way Jeff does. And it's my responsibility to make sure that happens. That means, I'm not supposed to be putting things in front of me that will cause me to look elsewhere (like movies or 'those' books that are so popular these days).

On August 7, 1993 I made a vow to Jeff- to love and to honor him for all the days of my life. And I intend to do just that. I took those vows seriously that day, and I still do all these years later. I believe that this is the most important vow I've taken in my life second to my commitment to follow after Jesus. This vow we made is the crux of what makes us such a strong family. You see, we didn't just make it to each other; we made that commitment to God Himself, and I take that VERY seriously. I believe that our children are better because we take that vow seriously. I believe that we are better because of it. I believe that God is honored because of it.

The Bible says that "A wise woman builds her home, but a foolish woman tears it down with her own hands" (Proverbs 14:1). Personally, I don't want to tear down my home. It is my belief that when I tear down my husband, I tear down my home. And putting lust for someone else above Jeff tears him down whether I want to admit it or not. Go ahead, and call me old fashioned or whatever you want; I don't mind. I've got a marriage I'm proud of, and I'll take that over favor with others any day of the week.

Let me just end with this. I'm not perfect. I've said that before, but it bears saying again. And part of the reason I'm able to say such great things about my marriage is because my husband just totally ROCKS. He is serious about his vows too, and therefore, I've never really been in want for his time, attention and devotion. It certainly makes this whole thing much easier, so kudos to him for being so easy to love. Now, who wants to babysit because I'm thinking it's time for a date?!?

Father's Day

I love Father's Day. I love any chance really to honor Jeff for the incredible dad that he is to our kids. He has taught me so much about how to be a Godly parent. His patience is unbelievable. He shows grace instead of anger. He is playful, yet demands respect. He loves whole-heartedly, fiercely even. He provides for us always, and does so with a thankful heart. Even though he keeps the thermostat in our house so high (Because he's "frugal" like that, y'all), he's definitely the best there is around!

Jeff, I love you. I love watching you with our kids. I love how you play tea party and barbie dolls with Ellie, then turn around and play Halo on X Box with Bryan. I love how you support our kids with your words and your presence. I love that you put God first, us second and your work third. I love that you love me so well, and you show our kids what a great marriage should look like. I love that Bryan has learned to open doors for me (okay, he's learning!), and Ellie is learning to look for a man like you one day (A LONG TIME from now). You bless me so much. You bless our family so much.

I can't let this opportunity to give some love to my dad go by either. My dad is wonderful, plain and simple. He's passionate for his family. He worked hard when I was growing up, but he always had time to play with us too. One of my favorite memories of my dad was Monday nights when we'd drive together to piano lessons. On the way, we'd crank up some music (usually Southern Gospel, but occassionally some Kenny Rogers The Gambler:)) and we'd sing our hearts out. I loved that time, one on one with my daddy!

Now, I get the joy of watching my dad with my own children, and what a blessing that is! I love how he teaches Bryan things like fishing and working. I love that he sings with Ellie and lets her play with her doctor kit with him. (Poor guy has had so many "surgeries" from Dr Ellie since she's been home that it's a wonder he's still around!) I love watching his face light up when they come in the room, and knowing that he finds joy just in being with them. I think the thing I love the most though, is listening to him tell stories to them. From Vietnam stories to his infamous "Big Toe" story, his stories cannot be beat! Our kids love them, and so do we! Dad, I love you so much. Thank you for leading our family the way you do. Thank you for pointing me to Christ in all things. Thank you for still calling me your little girl. You bless me so much. You believe in me, and I still look to you for wisdom. I love you, Daddy!

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention one other dad in my life. My father-in-love (Because "law" just doesn't cut it!) was an incredible man. I regret that I didn't have longer to get to know him, but his memory is etched in my mind forever. I'm so thankful for the few years I did have with him. Wayne was a great man, and he raised a great man (aka, my husband!). I loved Wayne's laugh most of all. He totally cracked me up when he would get tickled about something and just laugh. He had one of those full laughs that was infectious. I loved him so much! I also loved how he would make their dog Sheba sit in time out with him on the couch! hah!

But there was also a serious side to Wayne. He was a great encourager and a man of prayer. I remember so well after I had lost a baby to miscarriage, Wayne would call me to check on me and tell me that he loved me. He would tell me that he was praying for me, and then he would actually pray. Those prayers brought healing to my life, and I'm so grateful still for how he loved me during that time!  I miss him a lot, but I see glimpses of him in Jeff and even in Bryan from time to time. He left a legacy that is beautiful.

No doubt about it.. .my Heavenly Daddy has blessed me with some pretty amazing dads here on earth! thanks be to God!