Father to the Fatherless

Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow.                        

                                                    Isaiah 1:17

     

     

      I love babies. Love them! I love children, I love teenagers, I love kids of all ages. It's no secret. I like to love on them and hug on them and sing and dance uninhibited with them; I love to share the giggles, and to share the fresh joys and pains of the middle school and teen years. 

      I love old people too, and all of us in between, but God has created a special place in my heart for little ones, even those who wouldn't admit that they're still little in the scheme of things.

      This verse from Isaiah has also always had a special place in my heart. 

             Learn to do right.

             Seek justice.

             Defend the oppressed.

             Take up the cause of the fatherless;

             plead the case of the widow.

     I thought for so long that it was just the deaconess-y, social work part of myself that it spoke to, and then this Father's Day it dawned on me:

     I was the fatherless. 

    My father died when I was less than two years old. I myself, being young, was spared the grief of loss. It was my mom and I for a while. I was so little. Life was pretty good, we did have people we loved and who loved us, but every girl longs for a father...a protector, a lap to cry on, a monster-chaser, and a bear hugger.

     And so he chose us. My mom met Roy. I should say- my mom met Dad. He was sent by God. He never thought twice. He chose to be a father to the fatherless. I sat on his lap and was officially adopted when I was 5. 

     He gave me sisters...that life wouldn't be half as wonderful without. 

     He gave me confidence...in knowing I was not only loved, but treasured; and to seek that in the one God chose for me to spend life with.

     He gave of himself...in a way that spoke and poured Christ's mercy and sacrifice into my heart, a way no one else could have.

    So, my Dad. He is the one who taught me to snuggle on the babies. But he also taught me to love the fatherless. To seek out those in need. To plead the case of the widow. 

    That is so often how God's love overflows. God, who is my Father, my helper, my savior. He speaks through me, He speaks through my dad, He speaks through each of you. Find the oppressed. It's not hard, look around, they're everywhere. 

    Hug the orphaned and the fatherless; be Christ's arms to them. Treasure the widow and uphold God's awesome purposes He still has for their life. Eat up Christ's love for you...His sacrifice for you, and rejoice that you may rest in His strong outstretched arms.

    Haiti isn't the only place with orphans and widows, those in need, those struggling for love and hope. But it is the place we have been called for this time. I'll miss my family for the 200+ days we'll be in Haiti, but I can't wait to pass on, in such an awesome way, what has been given to me through them. 

    Babies, widows, wonderful people of Haiti- we can't wait to see you! :)

   

This is my Dad. As you can see, I'm a big fan. :)