I decided to blog about these two women today after a conversation I had with a good friend yesterday. My friend told me that her cousins wife died at the age of 31, and that she left two boys behind.
"They are some bad boys." She said.
"How old are they?"
"Seven and eight." She replied.
"Oh they just need someone to love and care for them." Then I preceded to share the story of two remarkable women that I'd met through blogging. No, I've never met them personally, but I've been moved by their stories. I know their heart. I know their spirit. Their hearts and spirits are His heart and Spirit.
The first blog is Jen's:
Rich Faith Rising...because life is a poem and love is eternal. This blog is one of my newbies. I recently learned about Jen and her blog when Jen commented on this blog.
What first captured my attention about Jen to be quite frank was the little black girl who is in the picture with her.
Being black myself and being from the south I'm still taken aback when I see white families adopting black children.
I often wonder, "Why do they do it?" "Why do they make "spectacles" of themselves that way?" "Why do they bring attention to their families?"
Then I wonder what's it like? Not only do I wonder what it is like for the family doing the adoption. I also wonder what's it like for that families extended family and I wonder about their friends. Do they all handle their friends as straightforward and to the point as Sandra Bullock does in The Blind Side?
Do they really love their adoptive children the way Sandra obviously loved in the movie?
Questions rolling in the mind from a picture. A picture of a mother and her daughter. A picture of a white mother with her black daughter... stirs, causes emotions to flow long before I get to her blog.
I visit. Scared because I'm the type who if I can't say anything good then I won't speak. My quietness then becomes loud...speaking volumes, but she left a comment on my blog, and I always visit those who visit me. "What will I find through the reading? What will her heart show? Will I be able to handle it?"
I read Jen's words and become engrossed—mesmerized by her poetic prose. They soften me. Ann talks about body being clenched. I had not known I was clenched until I relaxed. I never get around to reading her adoption story 'cause I'm so caught up in her words.
Once at Jen's blog I felt a kindred spirit, and instantly understood that only someone with a God centered heart can be set apart, used for the calling that He has called her to. Not adopting or caring for the orphans ... God calls all of us to care for orphans, but it takes a unique person to care for a child from another ethnic group, as such a thing brings up its own set of obstacles.
I thank God for the meeting of this new soul. My sister in Him.
Next on the list is, Lysa-Jo:
The Gypsy Mama. I feel as if I am at confession here. Originally when I first visited Lisa-Jo's site and realized she was from South Africa I immediately clicked off her blog.
I have read newspapers stories, seen news magazines and enough news coverage on Television along with hearing first hand accounts about how whites in South Africa feel about blacks.
One day while reading about the women over at (in) courage, I came across Lisa-Jo's picture. "Oh gosh, there's that lady from South Africa!" I clicked off the site.
"What's your problem Angie?" I asked myself.
"Well, Lord, if she's from over there I'm sure she wouldn't like me so why waste my time reading anything she writes ... "
I know this is crazy thinking. Crazy talking and most assuredly ungodly, but it is where I was. Remember this is Favorite Blog Friday, not because of the designs or popularity of the blog, but because these blogs move me, they changed me from the inside out for the better.
I hope to show you, reader, and to show you, the blog writer, how your prose move souls closer to Him, and to let you know just as the starfish poem poignantly points out: it only takes one. It only takes one to move a multitude. You—blog writer, you make a difference with your words, with your life, in sharing your stories.
If your story changes one life... makes a difference for one person, it has already begun its rippling effect.
Okay, getting back to my story. I know this was a horrible way to be, especially because I had never met Lysa-Jo, and I was feeling ill about a sister in Christ.
But I had my own life experiences ... my own story. I grew up in the south, I had experienced racism far more than I'd should, even experiencing it in my own family. I had been denied ... told I wasn't good enough, not because of the content of my character, but because of the color of my skin ... because of the texture of my hair.
The Lord reveled to me one day how I was judging Lysa-Jo, a woman whom I didn't know and who didn't know I even existed. I was judging her, not by the content of her character, but by the color of her skin, or rather by the region of the world she was born in.
How often do we not truly see ourselves ... we accuse others of the very thing we are guilty of.
I visited Lysa-Jo and I was astonished in stillment by her pictures. Pictures of love and warmth, pictures of her little brother playing with her children. My mind instantly took me back to the bellowing words of Dr. Martin Luther Kings, "I have a dream" speech.
I read her heart-felt words. Words that a God who created us both: black and white ... words from a heart that God created in His own image, just as He had created me. I read her words in her post: A boy and his dreams. I was profoundly moved.
Last night I went and visited and read her words, "How to help a daughter grieve." I felt her transparency of heart.
Her heart touched my heart. One soul touches another ... and this ... His love in us moving is how we make the world go 'round. How we make this world a better place.
Women changing lives and bridging gaps because of the content of their character that is who these women are, and that is the kind of woman I long to be.
The Starfish story:
A young girl was walking along a beach upon which thousands of starfish had been washed up during a terrible storm. When she came to each starfish, she would pick it up, and throw it back into the ocean. People watched her with amusement. She had been doing this for some time when a man approached her and said, “Little girl, why are you doing this? Look at this beach! You can’t save all these starfish. You can’t begin to make a difference!” The girl seemed crushed, suddenly deflated. But after a few moments, she bent down, picked up another starfish, and hurled it as far as she could into the ocean. Then she looked up at the man and replied, “Well, I made a difference to that one!” The old man looked at the girl inquisitively and thought about what she had done and said. Inspired, he joined the little girl in throwing starfish back into the sea. Soon others joined, and all the starfish were saved. - adapted from the Star Thrower by Loren C. Eiseley
This post is linked to Womenlivingwell.org