Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is

Pure and undefiled religion before God and the Father is this: to visit orphans and widow in their trouble, and to keep oneself unspotted from the world. - James 1:27-

This morning I went to the abortion clinic for the first time in a while. (Side note: one of many perks of becoming recently unemployed - Saturdays open!) I chose my favorite little sign: Do Not Commit Murder - We Will Adopt YOUR CHILD.

We weren't the only ones with signs today. I noticed, behind the pile of things the three pink-vested volunteer clinic escorts collected at the corner of the building, a handwritten sign. Upside down, it said adoption at the bottom. Why, I wondered, would they have a sign that said that?

After we prayed, grabbed signs, and began walking the sidewalk, one of the escorts held up the sign. She continued to as they talked and laughed, mostly ignoring us. The sign was written clearly in bright colors.

Lucas County Children's Services
has lots of children 
waiting for adoption.

When the woman flipped it over, I saw the other side.

Put your money where your mouth is, it read.

Anger and defenses rose immediately. What do they know? Many in our group have adopted both internationally and in the US as well as become foster parents. Surely our money and our actions are where our mouths are.

But then conviction rose. The sign is right, if not its attitude; we should have our money where our mouth is. I thought of 1 Peter 3:16. "Keep a good conscience so that in the thing in which you are slandered, those who revile your good behavior in Christ will be put to shame."

Is this the case? Are we so active that the mouths of those who rise against us are shut?

Praise God for the families who are adopting. But are not many of us resting on their laurels?

I wonder, should every family feel that the burden of adopting is on them unless God clearly shows the otherwise? I remember a statistic I heard: if one family from every THREE churches adopted an eligible child from foster care, and the rest of the families supported that one family, there would be NO CHILDREN in the American foster care system left waiting to be adopted. None. Surely there is at least one family out of every three churches that should adopt!

Not everyone can adopt. But we know that, and how quick we are to make excuses! And how many ways there are to help. Are we giving to families who are adopting? Are we praying? Are we babysitting, bringing meals, or providing emotional support? Are we being especially careful to assist in the training and raising of adopted children?

Are we judging others' methods? As Dwight L. Moody put it so beautifully, I like my way of doing it better than your way of not doing it. With high costs and the issues that always come with adoption, even of babies, it is easy to criticize how families overcome this obstacles to adoption and how many they adopt.

Are we supporting women who decide not to abort their children? Are we supporting ministries that do?

The brassness of the women who volunteer at the clinic is provoking. The women going in almost never respond to the counselors from our group that call out to them. Once, one of the escorts blocked the face of a woman going in from our view with her sign. After escorting one woman in, two of them gave a high-five. It was sad and creepy, highlighting how they deceive the women going in.

We wanted to silence them. I wanted to bring every child that has been adopted in our church and stand them on that corner with a sign, a great big sign. These children were given life in a new home. Your child can be too. Choose adoption.

Parker asked me a few weeks ago, "If someone going in said to me, "If you, you personally, will adopt my child, we won't abort it," should I do it?"

"Of course," I replied. It doesn't matter that we're less than 10 weeks away from the birth of our first child, nor that we're not rich, nor that we live in a small apartment. I wish it would happen, rather than add to the mass of unmarked murders.

Sometimes, though, it's easier to submit in the big things. In a sense, it's easier to decide to adopt a baby and love them as your own than to love the annoying kid your friend adopted, easier to give up thousands of dollars to go to another country to rescue an orphaned child than to give up a few pizza nights to give so someone else can.

Do not give God's enemies occasion to blaspheme. May the church so love the orphans, not in words but in deed, that the mouths of the world are stopped.

Dear Ruthie

I met you almost exactly two years ago.

We were going to a concert that our sister church in Bloomington apparently put on every year. We, not including you. Unaware that we were missing anything, we didn't know you existed.

None of us knew you except for Jonny. We heard he was bringing his friend from college to the concert. When I discovered that his friend wasn't a guy, I was surprised. Naturally we assumed you were interested in each other, unaware of the Bloomington connection.

There was much confusion about rides, which I shall not attempt to recall or describe. Suffice it to say, though I hadn't planned on going, I wanted to and I was told there was room...and we discovered when we got there that there was not. As we confirmed this year, we all know that something will be confusing and complicated, or it's just not right. Ironically, my gentlemanly brother let me go, briefly met you in the church office parking lot, and left.

So, suddenly you were on a long drive with six people, knowing only one. We didn't know you hardly even knew Jonny.

I wondered what you thought of us. We were very comfortable together, and acted no differently with this friend of Jonny's. That was all we knew, really, though perhaps we knew you were in engineering. And I found your name fascinating--I wonder if we talked about it. We wanted to name the twins we always wanted Mom to have Ruth and Naomi, and I always liked the name Ruth. But now, it sounds kind of incomplete, and I prefer Ruthie. I wonder if you told us your name was Ruthanne, or if I just wondered if Ruthie or Ruth was your real name.

I don't really remember telling you about Ryan and Grace's wedding, but since Mercy and I were both there and at that time it was never too far from my mind, it doesn't surprise me that we did. You must have told us that you were going to do a co-op in Bloomington and that was why Jonny invited you, so you had connection to a church.

I can picture a place along the highway where we were having a conversation. I know Rebekah and I were talking with you, but I cannot remember what exactly it was about. I think you might have told us about one of the many places you've visited or that your sister lived in Japan. It's interesting to think that these vague things I scarcely remember were probably about your mission trips to China and Romania, living in the Dominican, your family's travels, your tree story, and so forth. I don't remember much. Though I liked this friendly, quiet girl (as I think I had thought), I didn't expect to see her again.

The most vivid memory I have of you on that trip was on the way back. You had volunteered to sit in the front (somehow discerning that I didn't want to, already able to read me well). They had been joking and warning you about how Rebekah and Jonny's brother Ben drove slowly, never above the speed limit. When we stopped for gas, after Ben shut the door, you turned around, with that wide-eyed, very expressive look that I love, and said, "He does drive slowly!" And of course, as always, nothing that you say can be properly written down, for the words cannot relay your indescribably wonderful voice. At that point, I picture you as I know you now. Other than that, I cannot quite see you as yourself.

I saw you once again soon after that. You visited college group at Nick and Heidi's apartment once. I remember which wall you sat against and that Joy was there that night too. Other than that, I remember more about sitting on the couch by Ryan and Grace and joking about Gerald with them than anything about you that night.

I met you again one year ago. After discovering the Bloomington concert, we went back. As we sat in the pews, I recognized someone in the choir. "There's Ruthie!" I told Rebekah, pointing you out.

Afterwards, we talked to you. You were surprised to see us, I think, and that I remembered you, and I think I may have gotten my first Ruthie hug. I remember you saying that you were coming back in January and that you would come to our church.

After the rest of a stuffed-full, delightful December and a bit of January, I had forgotten that you might come until one Sunday I saw you. "Ruthie's here!" I said to whoever was beside me--Melody, perhaps. "Who's Ruthie?" she asked. "She went to the concert with us last year. I forgot she said she was coming here." I believe I went over and said hi to you.

I don't remember much of the beginning of that year. I remember when you were going to be in the Student Union at UT doing some sort of presentation, so I decided to go see if you were there. I think I may have startled you. Eric had just filled out a form and got a water bottle. You started telling me that your time was about done, but I could talk to this other guy--but I said good, I wasn't really interested in computers but in talking with you.

Then I walked out to the car with you. I don't remember a lot of what we discussed, but I remember pretty clearly where we walked and thinking that I really liked this Ruthie. We went past this fence and into this parking lot in an area I did not know on the side of campus closest to Engineering--now a quite familiar area.

We discussed school, and I think that I told you then why I had decided to go to school, and for the first time perhaps I went away smiling because of your encouragement. And also for perhaps the first time I noted your sweet gray-green Explorer. I like your car. The color is cool, and it always makes me excited when I recognize people's vehicles. Mostly, though, I get excited when I see it because I expect to see you.

Even though I don't remember much before then, I considered you a good friend by the time you agreed to come to our women's summer Bible study. That was about the time you decided to stay in the apartment at the Armentrouts'. Both of those things made me happy. I found it amusing when you and Mrs. Armentrout both appeared at Bible study unbeknownst to the other. "I could have told you that," I said.

Probably the reason I don't remember becoming friends with you is that, as you have sometimes kind of complained (or as close to complaining as you get), you just fit in so well so quickly, that everyone assumes you know things you haven't been told. Because we just can't--or don't want to--imagine life without Ruthie. That's the worst. 

Then there was Backyard Bible club--two of them, actually. You added so much fun to BYBC, and there you got more taste of the craziness that is the Beerbower family, the "vortex that once you're sucked in you cannot escape from," as Uncle Al said.

Although that might have been more at the Exaltation concert in May, where you said you fell in love with my family. I loved how you fit in so well, how you appreciate my parents, how Mom (and later Aunt T) makes you die laughing, how the kids love you. Although, "everyone loves Ruthie."

As you would say, True, that. No, but really.

Your calm, peace-loving and always sweet disposition is the perfect complement to our family's exuberant, dry-humored and always sarcastic nature. As is your realistic discipline to our free-spirited, that-sounds-fun impulsive tendencies, and your unbending calm confidence that won't stoop to indulge our love of a good argument and the way we "state [our] opinions as commonly accepted fact."

I delight in your adorable voice and your way of speaking. I often remember once when you said, "Jeannettie, you're coming with!" I know that's silly, but you were happy I was coming and your voice and way of speaking are so delightful. Plus I especially enjoy how you say my name. And it makes me happy that you always call me Jeannettie, as only a few certain people who really love me do.

I love the goofy, eyebrow-raising, wide-eyed face you put on for my pictures. (The first time I noticed that at the camping trip, I thought, That just happened! Okay, maybe that was before I used that phrase...)Your height, perfect for giving real hugs, makes me happy. You don't know how much I appreciate your company, your interest in me, your indulgence when I want to verbally organize my thoughts, and your reliably practical and calm responses to my idealistic, flighty ramblings.

There are some people that when you think of them, you must simply marvel at God's graciousness to you that He put them in your life. You're one of them. Thinking of how God has worked in your life and connected it with ours, I can't help but rejoice. (I hope you do too, because you know we're never going to let you get away from us. :-)

As you would say, You're the best thing ever.

Truth.

I am so glad God blessed the world with you, Ruthie. Happy birthday. You're the best.

I love you, Ruthanne.

True story.


*Words in italics are copyrighted by the Ruthie-Jeannette phrase-stealing club and should be read in Ruthie's voice.

Camping Pictures and Poems

Spending a number of relaxing days at a campground with my church family, involving lots of kids and being outside, lends itself to many pictures.

From the kids running about everywhere, 

 

 


 



To fun on the slip 'n' slide,

To the twins,







 

 

To sweet family interactions,

To the sword-fighting boys,

To making food outdoors,

 













 

 
To fun at the beach-



 



  

 In the water,










 









 


In the mud,

 




 
 







 









and in the sand-





























To lazying in fields creating daisy chains,

 

 






To adorning each other with them,











 

To nighttime adventures,






 
 












To unending games of volleyball-

Both inside and out-

Even to injuries to make everything more interesting,



























To simply enjoying watching people interact,

To exploring the lake,
 


 

To many rounds of carpet ball,






 

To watching my little buddies,

To making the rounds-

 








by wagon, 

by bike,

by both,

by stroller,











by foot-

 










To being goofy together,


 


 

 
 











To taking walk



 








after walk










until your poor feet are sore:

There's plenty to take pictures of, and too much, in fact.

 
Especially people.

There's portrait

 after portrait

 after portrait

after portrait

 Well...

 You get the idea.

There's lots of opportunity for portraits.

There were so many things to enjoy, most of all fellowship with other believers and with the Lord, that I didn't want to miss. Seeing through the lens of a camera, you notice things you wouldn't otherwise, but you also have a narrowed vision sometimes, making it harder to enjoy the moment sometimes. For this reason I took fewer pictures than I would have.

Good thing, right? Otherwise this post would never end...

One thing I much enjoyed was writing poems with a group of friends. For the first one, we took over the campsite of one family and wrote poems beginning with "For Friendship." This made me think of all that one does because of a friend that one wouldn't otherwise.

And of course I shall add a few more pictures I didn't fit in otherwise.


For Friendship
By Jeannette Beerbower
June 14, 2013

For friendship
Loss of sleep
When there's no need
To count sheep
Though down your eyelids
Want to creep
No sleep
For friendship

For friendship
Tedium endured
Going somewhere
You are bored
On the whim
Of one adored
Tedium endured
For friendship

For friendship
Mental pain
Heartsore for
Another's rain
Longing to lift
Another's drain
Mental pain
For friendship

For friendship
Take delight
Though undesired
In your sight
You now find
That you might
Take delight
For friendship

For friendship
Work undone
Chores are piling
Up a ton
But away from
Them you run
Work undone
For friendship


This exercise was so much enjoyed that I proposed we do it again. We didn't have another starting line, so looking about us all sitting in another's space, I suggested invasion.



What could be more appropriate for the camping trip, where we're all constantly joking about "mooching" off of people, and it's like a big communal picnic, where you go scouting off to see who has the best food whenever you're hungry?

Invade
By Jeannette Beerbower
June 14, 2013

Invasion of the camp
As if a trav'ling tramp
Mooching off of others' food
Sitting there so very rude






Relaxing as if at home
Wherever you happened to roam
Eating whatever is there
Taking over another's chair
Everything we want we raid
Yes, this is indeed how we invade.

Those two ideas summarize much of this wonderful excursion: friendship, which just makes this four-day invasion a joy.

Fellowship with those who know the Lord is sweet.

I can't wait for next year.














And even more, when this joyous fellowship has given us a little glimpse of what heaven must be like, we long for that.