A Table For Nine
My heart is aching. Aching at the thought that there are people in this world who don’t know Jesus–so many lost souls. Aching with love for people I have never even met and don’t know their names. Aching over the atrocities that have been and are being done to the vulnerable in our world.
Aching with an overwhelming love for my King as He continues to strip all that I am away from me, while replacing it with the passions of His heart.
I’ve recently heard about a lady who currently lives in Haiti with her many adopted children. Heather Elyse. Her story is touching my heart in the same way that Katie Davis’ did when I first read her story several years ago and have never been the same since. Heather’s story has changed me. She is a single woman who is currently 30. When she was 26 she was finalizing her 7th adoption here in the United States as a single foster mom–and she adopted 4 of her children from situations that are considered the worst cases of abuse in America. She now lives in Haiti and has a ministry there with her children, and her children are beautiful, lively, thriving, healthy, and all out in love with Jesus.
Beauty from ashes. Redemption from desperation. Brought to joy out of the most depraved situations we can imagine–Joy!
Here is a story that one of Heather’s girls wrote for a short story contest and won first prize with–I’m not sure how old the girl is, but I’m guessing somewhere around 13-14. This is a true story, and the reading of it has left my heart overflowing with love for my King, and raw and aching at the atrocities of this world:
I will never forget the day I first came to my adoptive family. My mother told us she was taking us to a fancy restaurant for a “family night.” I remember walking into this classy restaurant and hearing my mother say,”A TABLE FOR NINE” please. I was a bit confused because I counted and there was only seven adopted kids plus one single momma. I had heard my new mom was a bit eccentric, so I just thought this was one of her moments. Shouldn’t we of gotten a table for eight I thought to myself? I recounted all of us and was just confused. As we all sat down, my mom saved a place for someone right next to her. I began looking around wondering who in the world was meeting us for dinner. Who was joining us for “Our Family Night?” At the time I was too scared to even talk, so I just sat there curiously wondering and expecting someone to join us for dinner. My mother began to order and smile and carry on as if nothing was wrong. She began to seriously get on my nerves, and then I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to find out who she was saving the seat for. I will never forget the words that came out of her mouth. “Kids, I want to introduce you to your father.” “I have invited him to dinner with us tonight, and would like to tell you all about him.” I was shocked. I thought that my new adopted mother was single!? I quickly glanced back at the door expecting a man to walk in. I was stunned, as my mother began to talk about a man who would never leave us or forsake us. She talked about His heart and who His character was. She began to describe how he saved her life and began to tell us all about him. She said she would like to introduce Him to us. I will never forget that moment. The tears just fell from my eyes. I had become so numb and this was the first time I could even feel again. As she began to describe who He was, I felt as if I had already met him. It was a familiar feeling. I cant describe it but there were many and I mean many nights where I lay bleeding and in pain where I felt His presence. I so wanted to just die so the pain would stop. When I say pain I mean severe pain. My body was used as a chopping block or a cutting board. I not only felt physical pain as my biological parents would do horrors to me, but I felt such deep heart pain. There were many nights I felt as if someone was carrying me, keeping me warm, and whispering into my ear words of hope. I then realized as my mother began to describe this person who she saved a seat for and claimed to be my father, it was the same person who held me, wiped my tears, and mended my open wounds. That night in a restaurant in Tulsa, Oklahoma I met a man that has forever changed my life. He has truly healed me. He is my father and my Doctor. With tears I accepted Jesus into my heart that night. I will never forget the evening when God came to dinner with us and I officially met him. I will never forget the prayer and tears streaming down my newly adoptive mother’s face as she introduced us to the man that had once healed her as well. I will never forget the embrace I got, I never wanted my mom to let go. I didn’t just feel her arms around me but God’s arms. When she prayed over me and cried over me I promise you this I saw my father God in her eyes. I didn’t just get adopted by a new family, I got adopted by a father who knows how many hairs are upon my head. To think that I was once the abused child whose story was plastered all over national television. I will never forgetthe day my caseworker told my mom not to adopt me because I was too old, too much work, and too sick. I will never forget turning on the news and hearing the reporter say that I had one of the most severe cases of sexual abuse she had ever heard of where the child actually lived. I remember listening to my teacher as she told my mom I was considered mentally retarded because I couldn’t read or write at age eleven. I remember listening to my foster parents whisper about how “homely” looking I was and how messed up my body and teeth are. I remember at school how my peers would tell me they weren’t allowed to play with me because they were afraid to catch some disease or that I would hurt them. I write this to say that God still performs signs, wonders, and miracles. I am now a daughter of a King. I was once lost but now I am found. I was ashes turned into beauty. I was once damaged and broken and now restored and whole. God is reaching His hands out to you today. He has seen your tears, he has cried with you. Let him heal and restore you today. I will never forget the day when my mom said the words, “ A table for nine,” please.
