Giving Thanks

As we prepared for the Thanksgiving holiday two years ago, we decided to have No Complaining Week. We wore green ribbons on our wrists to remind us to be grateful, to not complain. If someone did complain, however, he had to wear the Cone of Shame (modeled above by Maura) and could not speak for two minutes. You can read about our experiment and see photos here, here, and here.

While we’re not doing that again this year, I’m ever mindful that we have much for which to be thankful–and that I often fail appreciate it. I’m more sensitive to this now since our family has changed so much in the past two years.

This morning I read from Paul’s letter to the Romans. The opening verses of chapter 12 make an appropriate preface to Thanksgiving.

So here’s what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him. Don’t become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking. Instead, fix your attention on God. You’ll be changed from the inside out. Readily recognize what he wants from you, and quickly respond to it. Unlike the culture around you, always dragging you down to its level of immaturity, God brings the best out of you, develops well-formed maturity in you.

I’m speaking to you out of deep gratitude for all that God has given me, and especially as I have responsibilities in relation to you. Living then, as every one of you does, in pure grace, it’s important that you not misinterpret yourselves as people who are bringing this goodness to God. No, God brings it all to you. The only accurate way to understand ourselves is by what God is and by what he does for us, not by what we are and what we do for him.

Catching Up on Photos

A few things, photographically, that have taken place in the past few weeks for us.

The weekend following our return from Ethiopia with Kieran, Maura was baptized. Thanks to Liam for grabbing the photo since I was in the baptistry.

We took our annual trip to the Christmas tree farm to choose our tree. Kieran sat and I photographed him.

Kids ran around in strange costumes.

We helped at a food packing event at the church.

Even Eva helped in her own way.

Today is Orphan Sunday

Today, November 4, is Orphan Sunday. God’s Word consistently reveals His concern for those on the outside: the widow, the orphan, the needy, the downtrodden. As Christ’s church, we are His hands and feet, those who are responsible for helping His Kingdom come. That includes caring for “the least of these.”

Tonight at 6:00 PM, Lincoln Christian Church will have a special celebration service for Orphan Sunday. If you’re in the central Illinois area, you’re invited to come and see how you fit into God’s plan for caring for orphans.

God could do something amazing through you if you’re willing.

You Know What Your Problem Is? I’ll Tell You.

Have you ever heard (or said), “You know what your problem is? I’ll tell you…”

When a conversation (or monologue) starts like this, it’s not good news.

But, honestly, you have a problem. And I’m going to tell you what it is.

Or, rather, I’m going to let Andrew Osenga tell you what your problem is.

Andrew is a Nashville-based musician and he’s recently released a remarkable album: Leonard, the Lonely Astronaut. The record chronicles the emotional excursion of Leonard Belle, a man who lives 300 years in the future. Leonard, you see, was in the middle of a messy divorce when his wife died suddenly. Filled with regret, Leonard takes a job as a space trucker for a year and decides to work through his pain by writing a record in the cold, emptiness of space.

Leonard, The Lonely Astronaut by Andrew Osenga

Sounds like a crazy idea for a record? Yes, and it’s even more crazy. Andrew created a Kickstarter project so he could build the set of a spaceship, get inside Leonard’s head (and space suit), and record the album on the set.

That’s what he did, and the result is one of the best albums I’ve heard in years.

Andrew sings and plays almost everything on the record by himself (since, after all, Leonard wouldn’t have had anyone to help him make the record). The musicianship is stellar and the songwriting heart-rending, true to the theme. On his journey through the depths of space, Leonard also journeys through the depths of his soul. He reflects on his childhood, his love and loss, his shortcomings, the bad choices that pushed his wife away.

Which leads me back to the point of this post: your problem.

In the song “We Never Said Goodbye,” Leonard achingly laments

I told you we’d never be apart
and I’d never break your heart
but it was mine I kept choosing

There’s your problem.

It’s yours and Leonard’s and mine: the selfish (sometimes destructive) choices we make for ourselves over the good of others. The accumulation of these choices is what led Leonard’s wife to leave him. Fill in the blanks for your own story.

Mercifully, that’s not how the story has to end.

In Leonard’s case, the album takes a redemptive turn at the end. Your story—my story—can also take that turn.

Whose heart will you choose?

—–

Two last things:

Here’s a video from one of the Leonard songs, “Out of Time.” Gives you a sense for the whole spaceship thing.

And if you’d like to pick up the album, get it here. Check the reviews: they’re all great.

Home–All of Us

Last night we closed one chapter of our family’s story and began the next.

After 32 hours of travel, we arrived in Springfield to a crowd of family and friends there to greet us and our newest family member, Kieran. A delightful homecoming. Our kids were especially excited to see “big brother:”  Eva ran up to give him the biggest two-year-old hug she could muster.

It’s good to be home, to sleep in my bed, to drink water from the tap, to navigate a culture I know.

But I’ll miss Ethiopia, one part of this freshly finished chapter.

I’ll miss the wonderful and generous families we met who have also chosen to open their families to “the least of these.” I’ll miss the differentness of Ethiopia–the food, the music, the sounds, the smells. I’ll miss the AWAA staff: Job, Yonas, T, and the host of nannies and support workers at the transition home. I won’t miss the night club down the street from the guest house that played techno/dance music past 5:00 AM every morning.

You can’t romanticize Ethiopia, have a crush on it like a junior high school girl. It’s problems are many and complex.

But you can love it. And we do.

Neither can you romanticize adoption. Raising children is hard work. And, as Russell Moore writes, adoption always begins in tragedy. There is loss and grief and injustice. This is true for Kieran as well as Aidan and Eva.

But adoption also offers redemption and hope.

We’re grateful that God opened our eyes, our ears, and our hearts to this call. Our lives would be much smaller if we’d not listened and obeyed.

Now that we’re back, I’ve had a chance to sort through some images (and post them with fast Internet access). Here are a few scenes from our last (but maybe not final?) trip to Ethiopia.

Liam, who fell asleep on the table at lunch on the day we arrived in Addis Ababa after a long trans-Atlantic flight.

Our first meal together back at the guest house: ramen noodles.

After we passed embassy and received Kieran’s new birth certificate and court decree.

Kieran outside a shop in the Post Office shopping district.

Liam with Job, one of the AWAA staff.

The familiar sight of children’s clothes drying in a well-protected courtyard.

Liam and Kieran in Kieran’s room at the transition home.

Coffee ceremony.

Nanny at the transition house. Everyone there loved Kieran and wanted to have their pictures made with him before he left.

Nurse at the transition house.

Holding hands and chatting with a friend before leaving for America (props to Suzanne for seeing this image).

The boys with Job and Abraham, one of our drivers.

Weary travelers in Chicago (ORD) after 30-some hours into our journey.

With a friend from the transition home in Addis Ababa who also now lives in central Illinois.

Thanks to everyone who came out to meet us at the airport (and thanks to Brian Bolton for getting a photo of all of us).

Hello Brian Spencer

Hello Brian Spencer from Ethiopia - The Gowin Family

This post requires explanation.

When we came to Ethiopia in July, the rainy season was just beginning. Rainy season means it rains. Every day. So travelers are advised to bring rain coats and boots.

While I had a rain coat, I had no boots. I asked around and my friend Brian Spencer said he had boots I could borrow. Sweet. In exchange for letting me use his boots in Ethiopia, I promised to wear them and take a photo for him. That way he’d be the proud owner of boots that were worn halfway across the world in Africa AND have photographic proof.

Only, I never needed to wear them and forgot to take the photo. It did, in fact, rain every day but the roads were never messy enough to warrant boots.

Nuts.

So this trip I decided I’d make up for my oversight.

I made this little sign that read “Hello Brian Spencer, from Ethiopia” and had Liam take my photo down the street from our guest house. While we set up the shot, we drew a few curious onlookers. I smiled at them, said “hello,” then asked if they’d hold the sign and let me make their picture. I explained that Brian Spencer was my friend in America and the pictures were for him. Several folks were good sports and played along. So here are their photos.

Hello Brian Spencer from Ethiopia - The Gowin Family

Hello Brian Spencer from Ethiopia - The Gowin Family

Hello Brian Spencer from Ethiopia - The Gowin Family

Hello Brian Spencer from Ethiopia - The Gowin Family

Hello Brian Spencer from Ethiopia - The Gowin Family

Hello Brian Spencer from Ethiopia - The Gowin Family

Hello Brian Spencer from Ethiopia - The Gowin Family

Hello Brian Spencer from Ethiopia - The Gowin Family

Embassy Passed

The Gowins passed embassy in Ethiopia

At 9:00 AM today we left Ethiopia for an hour to stand (and sit) on American soil at the U.S. Embassy in Addis Ababa. The anticipation of the last few months came to fruition as we received the court decree and birth certificate that officially include Kieran as a Gowin.

On Wednesday morning we’ll receive his passport and visa; on Wednesday night we’ll begin the long journey home.

Traveling Light

All of Kieran's stuff

Suzanne, Liam, and I arrived in Ethiopia yesterday morning to bring Kieran to our home in Illinois. After dropping our bags at the guest house, we drove to the transition home where Kieran has lived for the last few months. The eight hour time difference between Lincoln and Addis Ababa is proving rough for Liam: he fell asleep on the table at lunch. Right now, at 3:00 AM local time, he and I are up reading and writing.

We’ll have more details to share in the days ahead. For now, this:

Every valuable material thing Kieran has with him fit into the small bag photographed above.

His backpack is a metaphor and a lesson for me.

Many more, however, are the memories of his father, his brothers and sisters, his friends, the life he’s known in Ethiopia that Kieran carries deep in his heart. Days of loss and grieving lie before us. We would not expect otherwise.

But it’s our prayer that God is in this journey with all of us and that He will make all things new.

So what was I reading before I started writing this morning?

Matthew 25.

Thanks to all of you who help care for the least. Travel light, friends.

Interview with the Springfield State Journal-Register

As we continue to raise funds to bring Kieran home, Suzanne made plans to have a booth at the Lincoln Balloon and Art Festival where we could sell our 147 Million Orphans gear. Our good friend Betsy made plans to get Suz an interview to help spread the word, and that interview was featured in the State Journal-Register today. It’s really well done–we’re grateful for the good press and writer Theresa Schieffer did a terrific job.

If you’re in Lincoln this weekend, stop at the airport and visit the booth. Some friends will be minding the store in the afternoon and Suz will be there tomorrow evening. They’d love to see you.

Here’s an “action shot” of Suz at the booth tonight. Blessings.

Suz works the booth at the Lincoln Balloon and Art Festival