Let's Be Miracle Families

A miracle is something that happens in this world but doesn’t follow the rules of this world. We are bound with all kinds of rules like gravity, time, space, probability and logic. A miracle reminds us there’s something more and Some One bigger and better than that.

We want to be a miracle family. 

No, scratch that… We are a miracle family.

LOOK AT US.

We started with a miraculously outlandish order of events and giraffe hoof-prints on our wedding aisle. It's only gotten better from there. We love each other more than this world could explain, and we celebrate that miracle every night around the dinner table.

Recently, we agreed that there’s more to it than that.

We decided to become a miracle family that expects and calls down God’s miracles. We don't need to see scars to believe or require seas to do the splits to have faith. We have been charged to build heaven on earth, and we want everyone who's weighted down to see that gravity doesn’t stand a chance.  

We set the table and expected a feast. 

We renamed our street “Miracle Lane”. 

We set up checkpoints around town to agree in a specific prayer every time we drive by.

One day, while we drove down Miracle Lane, our 8-year old miracle in the backseat made his own claim on heaven. Lifa had become obsessed with huskies and voiced how badly he wanted one. He’d obviously been ruminating on this for a while, and it HAD.TO.BE a husky. (Yes, that’s the dog made for snow. And, yes, we live in Africa.)

Never one to beat around the bush, Chris laid it out, “Lifa, you better pray for a miracle because that’s the only way we’re getting a husky.”

As responsible parents do, we had a list of good reasons why we should not get a husky: Huskies do not live long in our region because of the heat. They are hard to train, too loud, and typically hard to deal with in general. Lifa had his own list of reasons why we would be getting one: His mom and dad told him he lives on Miracle Lane, and he kept watching their prayers get answered. (Who do you think is going to win this one?)

What we did not want: A husky.

What we did want: A kid who ruthlessly believes in God’s power and love for him.

What we did: Prayed for Lifa to see a miracle.

We rallied as a family for Lifa’s husky. We helped him guide his prayers, and every night he would beg God to bring the perfect husky for our family – one that we could “crain” (train) and would be healthy. His faith rose and so did ours as we overheard him boldly telling friends at church, “I’m getting a husky because I’m praying for one.” One afternoon, I asked Lifa if he had named the husky. It wasn’t long before he put on his cape and bound into the kitchen, triumphantly shouting, “KRAVEN THE HUNTER!” “My husky’s name is Kraven the Hunter!”

Nightly, we prayed for Kraven the Hunter to come home. When Lifa left for the 3-week trip to his biological father’s house, he assured us he would keep praying for Kraven while he was away. He knew we would too - we couldn’t help ourselves. The momentum of a child’s faith was rising all around us, and even our friends and family were jumping in. 

A couple of weeks later, Chris called and let me know the SPCA was coming over to do a home visit. My response: “WHAT!?!” My charming husband took advantage of my staring and stammering to explain that, somewhere in the middle of praying for Lifa’s faith to be built up, his own heart had changed.

Chris wanted to participate in Lifa’s miracle with him, not just watch from the sidelines. With a burgeoning fathers heart, he wants to have an active role in this boy’s walk with God. To agree with Lifa’s prayers, Chris asked specifically for a mixed breed husky for increased lifespan, as well as a puppy cared for by our local SPCA. Lo and behold, three days later, Michelle from the SPCA was sitting on our back porch with goose bumps after hearing the story of Lifa’s prayers. The next day, Kraven the Hunter was home!

He looks ferocious, doesn't he?

Exploring his new backyard

We picked Lifa up from his dad’s house a week later. He was exhausted, lacking in nutrition, and too run down to do much more than eat and sleep... a lot. We pulled on to Miracle Lane, and he perked up at the thought of hugging Khaya (the puppy he already knew), getting back on his bike. He was already dreaming about going to bed that night in his own super-hero room with a belly full of Mom’s cooking (and his favorite pumpkin cake for dessert). I took him straight to his room to set down his bag, and then this happened:

That father, who wanted so badly to participate in his kid’s joy, scooped up the miracle and placed it in the arms of his unsuspecting son. Lifa didn’t know what to do as his answered prayer licked his face. He stammered, stuttered and was painfully awkward when it came to interacting with Kraven the Hunter. But that night, with a miracle sitting under the dinner table, Lifa feasted on Mom’s cooking and basked in the love of a family that stands together.

We aren’t a miracle family because the SPCA happened to get an ultra-rare husky-mix pup three days after my husband prayed for it. We are a miracle family because we know that God moves on behalf of his kids, and we choose to ask for a lot of moving.

We named our road.

He named his miracle.

We are a miracle family.

Kraven the Hunter is ridiculously cute, and we call him our miracle pup every day. But the real miracle isn’t in the collar. It’s never about the physical evidences we see. 

The real miracle is a weary child coming home to find out God hears him and moves on his behalf, even when he’s far away.  

Authentic miracles happen in a father’s heart when he exchanges his desires for his child’s.

We don't need proof, and we didn't need a husky. We need our hearts constantly shouting and being shaped for what shapes God's. We need to know it has nothing to do what we are capable of, and this earth's way doesn't stand a chance when it comes to the King of Kings. We call huskies home, and we know the true miracle happens when heaven’s heart replaces our own. Let's be miracle families. 

A Tube Full of Heaven... Ok, it's Neosporin

A baby sits unattended, in the furthest corner of the yard, and cries. She’s had a fever for days, and her mother just cannot handle the sound anymore. She puts baby as far out of ear’s reach as her small plot would allow.

There’s a free clinic less than a mile away.

A child limps into the CarePoint with yesterday’s dirty clothes clinging to the infection of yesterday’s run-in with a rusty nail.

There’s clean, running water at the Children’s Cup CarePoint, as well as a free government clinic within walking distance.

Open wounds, broken bones, and senseless infections are accepted as just a part of life. It’s as though affliction is just another stage of development in the fray of South Africa’s rural villages. It almost looks like this just is just the way it is as you bump along the dirt road to Dayizenza.

But there is another way, and it is so accessible.

You pick up that baby, and you walk to the clinic.

You turn on the tap, and you wash that wound.

So why are babies still feverish and wounds still untreated? Why don't they see and use what's available?

The volunteer cooking mothers at the Children’s Cup CarePoint in Dayizenza battle disease and decay in their own bodies. They take children into their homes, and sick children are dropped off at CarePoints because no one knows what to do. Not even them.

But they are watching.

They see mission teams come and hold babies. They watch touch, prayer and affection saves little, endangered lives. (Read Benji’s story here.)

They see us come to wash wounds and administer first aid to sick and injured children. They watch health restored to better than before.

They take a look, ask a question, and dare to believe there’s more than what their eyes can see.

“Mama Kacy, we don’t know how to take care of our children.”

They poured out their most vulnerable longings. “We want to help them, but we don’t know how. Can you show us? Will you teach us?”

YES! YES! YES!

The sheer risk in looking for more than what’s there could turn those hole-ridden dirt roads into hope-filled streets of gold.

We practiced putting on Band-Aids, washing injuries, and basic hygiene. I taught them about our bodies being temples of the Living God. We discussed burn care and prevention. They stared in shock when I told them it was ok… and expected… to tell the children to stay away from the cooking fire and hot kettles. I showed them how to use the medication in their first aid kit, labeling everything with appropriate usage, dosage and age. They aced the quiz at the end and loved it!

The most dramatic first aid practice of all time. So good.

They felt so empowered, capable, and strong. Hips swung and laughter roared around the yard as they modeled their faux-sprains and pseudo-slatherings of Neosporin. They were like little kids playing doctor. We laughed and celebrated as we were all healed of our imaginary afflictions.

The mothers learned how to use their hands for helping others, and touched hope in the process. They saw suffering doesn’t have to be the standard, and they could do something about it.

The gold and sparkly hope of heaven squeezed out of them with a tube of Neosporin and the most basic first aid training.

That day began a beautiful and ongoing journey in Dayizenza.

Week by week, we are gathering around thankfulness, stockpiling on knowledge, and strengthening our arms so we can lift heavy.

Boot Camp at the CarePoint! It's a highlight of our week! 

We are bracing ourselves and bulking up.

That tube of Neosporin and that fateful first aid training was the day we saw that heaven is at hand… our hands. We aren’t just here to fill bellies and wait passively for heaven to come. We will be the ones to lay the bricks that pave the path of heaven on earth.

First Aid trained and ready.

The beautiful women of Dayizenza will wash their hands, wash wounds, and renovate the roads from dust to glory. With clean hands and ready hearts, they are building the highway to heaven right where they live.

I remember the way I felt the day the ladies in Dayizenza asked me for help. How much more would heaven hoop and holler with a sparkling and undignified, “YES! YES! YES!” if we asked for more too?

There’s more. It’s free, and you just might already be fully equipped for it. Wash your hands, wash your hearts, and bust open that tube of heaven. Don’t hold back.

Let’s use what we have, and ask for more. Squeeze out every last drop until we’ve replaced infection with affection, disease with delight, and until heaven’s promises are complete on this earth, starting right where you are.