From the Miracle Files: It's Like Taking a Walk on the Beach
This was not the miracle story I intended to share with you today. (Another great reason to extend miracle week!) But there’s a real-time reason I chose this story to share with you - and even post it a day early. This is a testimony and an invitation.
Both of our boys need birth certificates still. This has many implications on our everyday lives, as well as the big picture. Tomorrow morning, Benjamin and I will leave at 6:30am to make an 1 1/2 hour drive to a home affairs office to try to take a step toward his documentation. With some unavoidable, fluttering anxiety today… and the same “have-to-hope-but-afraid-to-hope” tension I’ve bore for ten years… I told Chris, “We need a miracle tomorrow.” My extraordinarily handsome husband looked at me and said, “He has done this before, Kacy. One morning you went very early to the education department, and now Lifa has a school ID number.”
We’ve got a great team of people working with us - the American embassy, an outstanding Christian immigration lawyer, and some mamas and a church that prays. And you. Will you read this testimony? Believe with us? Pray with us? Be a part of bringing heaven to earth?
I am so indescribably grateful for you and your prayers!
It’s Like Taking a Walk on the Beach
Originally Posted 12 January 2017
After my first year in South Africa, I visited my family in Texas. I took a walk… no, a stomp down the beach on Galveston Island. I was spiritually arrested with the choice God had laid before me. He gave me a “Yes or No only” invitation for a very special kind of family.
When my feet ran out of beach, I took a spiritual leap. With sandy toes and a tear-salted heart, I said, “Yes, God. You can write my family story. From this day forward, I will commit to being Lifa’s mom, no matter what happens.”
There was no paperwork to validate the invisible covenant I had made and things only got harder from there. When I returned to South Africa, I spent countless hours advocating for justice for the invisible children around me, with one especially in mind.
Lifa is a person – real flesh and blood with a beating heart – but there’s not a piece of paper in the world to prove it. Lifa deserves an education, health care, protection, a hope and a future in his nation.
I’ve heard “It’s impossible,” a trajillion times out of every type of social justice officer in South Africa. Everything changed once my feet landed on “Yes” in the sand that day. Everything became possible. Not easy. Not immediate. But possible.
A few years later, I took another fateful walk down a wedding aisle. We made a covenant to be a family that walks in God’s miraculous love. We knew we were better together and committed to live in a way that shows and requires God's miracle-sized love.
Some days, that journey is tough.
South Africa started school yesterday, and Lifa had to stay home.
Lifa has never had the right or access to a proper education. I’ve lived in South Africa for seven full years as of yesterday, and I have spent six of them fighting for his rights. My husband’s YES to stand in the gap with us has been a game-changer. We believe in the power of our united prayers- the impossible doesn’t stand a chance when a Miracle Family brings it to the throne.
We brought it. We had an excruciatingly disappointing day while all the other kids went to school, but we know all things are possible with Christ - in Cape Town and to the ends of the earth.
AND GUESS WHAT: Impossible started losing this morning.
Today is the first day of my 8th year in Africa. Today Lifa started his first day of school.
Legally. Validated. Visible.
Invisible and impossible is broken off forever.
There was just one school in Cape Town that did not send us away with an impossible “No.” The principal invited us into his office and said “Yes, if…” If we were able to make the invisible boy visible to the government.
The school’s admissions counselor has not eaten breakfast or had coffee in a week because she’s spent all of her mornings on the phone with me and the education department. She's denied herself to fight for the "Yes" with us.
Yesterday, I made my way into the big boss’ office in the Department of Education. I went with folder full of paperwork and a boatload of prayer. I sat in the office and watched impossible become possible. She made a phone call, sent an email, and IT WAS DONE.
She told me Lifa could go to school the next day. I kept my cool: I burst into tears and asked if I could hug her before I went to cry in the car. I called my husband, and we wept miracle’s tears together. I drove straight to the school to give hugs, flowers and chocolate to the admissions counselor. I went home to hug my guys HARD. And we got to work… there were books to cover, lunches to pack, ties to tie, stuff to do.
EIGHTEEN notebooks covered by the incredible Mr. Ladd.
Getting the tie ready for the first day. (Lifa is also really good at keeping his cool.)
This morning, as we headed TO SCHOOL, I looked at Lifa and said, "It's like we're walking through the Red Sea this morning." I asked him if he remembered when everything felt impossible for the slaves who were trying to get to freedom, and then suddenly God made it possible His way. He simply opened up the ocean. Lifa looked at me and said, “I was thinking the same thing, Mom.”
“Lifa, this drive to school is like taking a walk on the beach.”
We’ve faced fears, struggles and a lot of impossibilities. Impossible has parted like the ocean and made way for the possible. It took a lot of work and a lot of people, but we know Who made the sandy way. It’s the One who knows how many grains of sand we walk on.
Lifa was full of questions about what the day would hold, but not about Who held him. We’ve got a lot to learn here, but we’re going to keep our feet sandy and our hearts set on Yes.