Our stories anchor us. They shape our values, and help us find where we fit. 

We need to hear them, know them and practice them. We need the opportunity to write redemption into them where we need it, and sprinkle celebration through our self-images. 

It’s one-jillion degrees in Cape Town today, and humidity is on the rise. (Hallelujah! Rain is on the way!!!) As I write this, I’m still in my gym clothes and sitting crossed-legged in a camp chair at Lifa’s rugby practice. I’ve kicked off my shoes in effort to cool down and am set up to spend the next hour writing you story from Arise’s family center. But a one-liner from the rugby field just threw me off course.

We are the Ladd Family. We sold everything and moved to Africa to serve people. We leap over tall buildings and save people all.day.long. THE WORLD recently wrote us a letter and said, “Thank you for changing me.” None of that is true.

Most days, we do a lot of what you do. Only it takes us a lot longer. Like a trip to the grocery store… you don’t even know. 

There are so many people trying to figure out who they are going to be in 2019. And then there’s Lifa.

We’ve entered puberty, guys. I’m just going to be real – we’ve got some highly awkward, moody, broody moments in the Ladd house these days. If anything can mess with your sense of identity, it’s those raging adolescent hormones and embarrassing body changes.

The Year of the Brave was full of life, loss, conquering, crying, incredible need, and being met in that need by the God who holds it all.  

In the Year of the Brave, we won rugby “Forward of the Year”, learned how to swim, worked so hard academically, and doubled the size of our family – two in heaven and one growing right here with his mama.

Today's blast from the past is from Lifa's first trip to the ocean in 2012. He doesn't remember it, and I remember being right in the middle of some of the hardest emotional turmoil of my life. I didn't know what would happen to Lifa the following year. LOOK AT US NOW! Praise God! And look at where you are now - Praise God! And seriously, this story is worth reading for the pics. Because he was CUTE.

Cape Town was cookin’ last week! Just a few weeks into spring, and the highs were in the 90’s everyday. (I’m speaking Fahrenheit today. Cape Town friends, you know how hot it was!) I’m carrying a sweet potato-sized human and had to jump into our swimming pool intermittently throughout the day to keep me and this potato baby from baking! (Fahrenheit friends, there is no central air in homes or schools here.)

Between consuming three bags of ice, dipping in the pool and making some exciting church plans, I toured three high schools last week. Yes, that’s right… I said HIGH SCHOOL.

Thank you for your prayers, comments and encouragement from the story I wrote about crying on my closet floor. Since then, we’ve celebrated 3 years of beautiful marriage, hosted a wonderful bunch of people for my 34th birthday, and Lifa got his first bloody nose at a rugby practice. He felt like he had finally become a man.

I grew up surrounded by cousins. Vacations, holidays, sleepovers, Saturdays… anything fun happened with cousins in tow.

My cousin Carli has been my lifelong closest friend. We spent our childhood making radio shows, being fake Avon ladies on fake phones, coordinating jumpers and jellies, concocting absurd recipes for cooking shows, spying on the grown-ups with disposable cameras, feeding NaNa the yellow and green fruit snacks we didn’t like, and creating clubs, rules and games that always put our male cousin counterpart, Chaz at an impossible disadvantage. We still find the occasional mix tape, hilarious photo, or the newspaper we created in the treasure trove of NaNa’s house – evidence of the precious gift of cousins.

Here it is, world. The Internet’s first up close and personal interview with Lifa. I thought his would be the most qualified voice in the Ladd Family to celebrate Father’s Day, so I (Mom) interviewed Lifa on all the ins and outs regarding dads and why they are important. 

I’m an “all or nothing” kind of lady. If I can’t do something all the way, I would rather not do it. It is my greatest strength and my greatest weakness. My “all or nothing” mindset helped me to wholeheartedly commit my life to living in Africa and parenting Lifa as a single, young lady years ago. It helped me say, “I choose you,” to Chris Ladd when we had the fateful “business meeting” and decided to commit our lives to each other before we had ever even been on our first date. It helps me every morning when my alarm goes off at 4:40am to get up and get the most out of those quiet morning hours with God so that I can give my all to my family and our city for the rest of the day. It can also leave me empty from going, giving and going some more all day, every day.

For a limited time, Lifa understands the world through our words, prayers, actions and interactions. His expectations, desires and reality are formed at his bedside nightly as we pray for friendship, school, courage, and character. His tastes are formed during the music marathons we play in the kitchen and in the conversation and meals we have at dinner. 

It’s 5am in South Africa, and it’s Lifa’s birthday! 

There’s a pink-swirled sky, and I’m pouring through pictures of baby Lifa before his 10-year old self wakes up. 

LADD FAMILY MILESTONE: This is the first Christmas in the history of the Ladd family that we will all be in the same country! ...In two days, Lifa’s father will board the fanciest, memory foam recliner Greyhound has to offer and begin a 24-hour journey to Cape Town. He will spend two weeks with us, experiencing Lifa’s life as a part of our family. He will see Lifa’s room, watch him practice guitar, play Legos, ride bikes, walk the dogs, see Lifa’s school, and experience what an incredible young man Lifa is. 

On Monday night, we told him we were going to have pap, beans, cabbage and beetroot for dinner the next night. And he could eat it with his hands. His eyes lit up, and he said, “It’s like it’s a birthday dinner!”

This morning, I dropped Lifa off with an educational psychologist for a 4-hour assessment. He understood that the psychologist’s job was to give his parents and teachers tools to help him be his best in school, and there was a good chance he would get to draw. She has a giant desk like Dad’s, and he would have 4-hours of uninterrupted adult attention. Game on. 

Last week, as I was leaving the counseling center to pick my shiny-eyed boy up from school, my world got rocked when I made eye contact with a 3-year old. She was wearing a fluffy, pink jacket. And her eyes were not shiny. The inherent shine that is part of the thread our Creator creates with was gone. Already. Her parents were also threadbare. 

It’s been six years, three months and one week since I started the long drives to take Lifa to visit his biological father. Along the way, the oh-so-handsome Chris Ladd stepped in like a super hero to take the steering wheel, take my hand, and take the lead for our family. Together, we re-committed to God to preserve Lifa’s relationship with his father and his culture. 

When I picked Lifa up from school on Friday, I told him it was an extra special day for our family. I re-explained guardianship and let him slowly process it, Lifa-style. I explained that nothing really changes for his daily life and asked if he had questions. 

The rest of this post is not written to you. It’s a raw response that shot out of my highly-caffeinated fingers and overcome heart. I think you should read it because one day you might need some hope to hold on to.