December 22, 2011

Santa and the job quadrant

By matthewbuley

I have a simple quadrant system to rank jobs. You know a quadrant. It’s got the x-axis running left to right, and the y-axis running up and down. You’re left with four boxes to categorize whatever you’re comparing.

Here’s how my job quadrant works. The x-axis is level of professionalism: purpose, responsibility, authority and pay. A low score on professionalism puts a job on the left side, a high score on the right.

Now, here’s the y-axis: Facial hair. Yes, I’m serious. I recognize my system just eliminated more than half of humanity, and I do apologize, but it’s my system. The facial hair axis is simple: yes or no. Can you have a beard or not?

My first job at Hy-Vee Food Stores in Albert Lea, Minnesota did not allow me to have facial hair (which I couldn’t grow anyway) and I wasn’t in a professional position. So, my job was in the lower, left-hand box of the quadrant.

The only jobs I’m interested in from here on in are in the upper, right-hand box. I want to have a good job that has a lot of purpose and responsibility. And when the fancy strikes, I want to grow a beard.

You know who has the ultimate upper, right-hand box job? Santa. Who has more responsibility at work than Santa? Nobody! Not only is he allowed facial hair, but it’s expected. Beyond that, he doesn’t have to bother dying anything with Just for Men and he’s even expected to carry a little too much weight.

“Would you like a salad, Santa?”

“No, better make it a slab of bacon–gotta think of the kids.”

There’s no question, Santa has a great job. But, Santa will also have some work to do in Cebu this year. Our Field Director, Paul, will involve him in something crazy. He’s bound to get lost, arrested or mobbed by elves. I don’t honestly know what Paul has planned, but Santa will have to work to get to our kids.

There are a lot of new children at the Children’s Shelter of Cebu this Christmas. Some will no doubt be horrified when Santa is drug away in handcuffs, but they’ll just have to look to the kids who’ve been around a little longer. They’ll be smiling knowingly…the gifts will come.

Indeed, the gifts will come, and so will the truth: Santa isn’t why we celebrate Christmas at CSC. He’s in a manger, on a cross and at the right hand of our Father. CSC isn’t just about the safe bed, regular meals and loving caregivers. Come live with us, and you’ll be in a place to heal, to laugh at Santa and to learn about your Savior.

And, if you come work for us some day, we’ll even let you grow a beard.

6 comments   |  tags: , , , | posted in CSC Kids

October 30, 2011

Does God speak to you?

By matthewbuley

I’ve never heard God.  I’ve never seen him either.  At least not in the way some people have.

Ultimately, I’m okay with that.  I don’t question my salvation or my place in God’s kingdom because clear sights or sounds have never come to me.  Though, there are definitely times I’ve wished God would speak in a voice that I could make out with my ears.

I have had people tell me that they heard God.  Right there in their eardrums were the reverberations of the Most High. Once someone told me that God audibly directed them to take a different path to their car which resulted in them meeting a famous person.  Nothing more came of it so they just assumed God was proving his faithfulness to them.

I have to admit, I can tense up when someone says something like that.  When that person told me their story I kind of wanted to ask if they were sure this was how it all played out.  It’s hard not to proceed with incredible caution when my relationship with God just doesn’t work like that.  Still, if I had questioned the validity of this story it would have been out of arrogance that this can’t be because I haven’t had the same thing happen to me.  I’m not drawing that line in the sand.

I wasn’t filled with theological questions when I heard the story.  You want to know the full selfish truth?  It made me jealous.  I would love to have the same thing happen to me.  Something like a voice in the silence, an angel appearance or a burning bush.

Why?  Because I want to be so sure I’ve heard from God that there is no other explanation for something having happened.  It’s a question of calling.  Calling is about purpose, and for a Christian, being asked to do something by, with and for God.

Calling is an amazing thing.  Calling is God saying “here, your turn.”  If you’re called, you’re being asked to respond, to fill a need that God knows you can.  Calling is a little like faith.  It’s our turn to take what we know and go.  It’s our chance to have a part to play in the history of a world held in the hands of a sovereign God.

It’s occurring to me that being called is probably never easy.  A voice would be nice, so would a burning bush, but calling rarely looks simple however the signal comes.  That burning bush was a clear sign, but one that made for a difficult path.  God was telling Moses to do something that he felt totally unequipped to do.  He believed God had the wrong guy and he was afraid.  Moses wasn’t so different from most of the rest of us.

Being afraid doesn’t mean you’re not called.  In fact, being afraid might be one of the signs you are.  It’s okay to be afraid.  As long as we don’t wait around for the sure sign that someone else got or question our qualifications to the point of doing nothing.  Sure God says “your turn,” but He never asks us to take that turn alone.

So God has never spoken to me the way He has to others.  Maybe He has to you.  Either way, He is speaking.

5 comments   |  tags: , , , , , , | posted in Faith & Theology

October 13, 2011

You came just in time

By matthewbuley

Remir on patrol in his last high school soccer game.

Remir has now played his last high school soccer game.  That doesn’t seem possible.  Four years ago he arrived in the US knowing almost nothing about the game.  Thanks to hard work and all kinds of God-given athletic ability, he played soccer throughout high school.  I’m very proud of him.  It was an honor to cheer for him and to pace the sidelines as his dad.

It feels like we’ve just hit one of those big “lasts” and I’m not sure I’m ready.  Every parent thinks their kids grow up too fast…but try adopting a 14 year-old and then tell me about your kids growing up too fast.  I’ve had my oldest son for four years and he’s already a Senior.  It’s mind-boggling.

This transition has me thinking about all the cool teenagers I’ve met at the Children’s Shelter of Cebu who have families now.  My son has me thinking about what I’d want to say to all the Remir’s, Janice’s, Victor’s and Roselyn’s (and on and on) that I’ve known at CSC.  The ones who were “older” when they were adopted.  I don’t entirely know what “older” means, but a lot of these kids came to the States and jumped right into middle school.  I guess that’s “older” when it comes to adoption.

Every one of you kids is amazing.  Amazing.  Sometimes your parents (like me) get credit for things that we don’t deserve.  People sometimes treat us like heroes because we chose to adopt kids who weren’t babies, because we adopted kids who were young adults.  They think we’re making a difference in the world because we added you to our families.  As if we chose you so we could make a difference in the world.  That’s not a good enough reason.  We chose you because you were just too cool to miss out on.  Maybe it took a step of faith for us, but sometimes people give credit to us when they aren’t giving enough to you.

You’re the heroes in my book.  You left everything you ever knew to go to a country that you couldn’t imagine.  You’ve made a transition that very few people can comprehend.  I try to imagine what you must have been thinking when you boarded the plane in Manila.  Wondering what your home would be like, how you’d fit with your parents and what all these new people would think of you.  I honestly can’t imagine facing that much unknown, and walking into it for the rest of my life.

I’d guess that sometimes you’d wish that you were adopted when you were younger.  That you wouldn’t have had to face the things you did in life.  That you’d speak English the same as everyone else and have memories with your family from before you started school.  I wouldn’t blame you for thinking any of these things, but I really believe you all came just in time.  You’re an example to all the people in your lives.  You’ve done so much to fit in, to catch up and to adjust.  You are a walking, talking testament to the hope of starting over.

Now you’re adopted.  You’re the pride of moms and dads like me.  You will be someone’s “ours” from now on.  I hope your lives are better because of us, but know this…ours are definitely better because of you.

6 comments   |  tags: , , | posted in Adoption, CSC Kids

September 23, 2011

Blackmail

By matthewbuley

Just shopping the competition...

This is Joemar.  If you have been to Cebu and met him, you already get the link between the picture and the post title.

Joe is what we call a lifer…a company man.  He loves his job, works hard and looks his best when he’s in his uniform.  The problem here is that he works for McDonald’s.  Look at the guilt on his face as he polishes off a meal from their primary competition in Cebu.  He agreed to this picture even though I told him I was going to use it as blackmail.  He even held the cup out to give the shot some dimension.

I guess Joemar is a lifer at CSC too.  He arrived on July 15, 1985, and at age 35, doesn’t show any sign of moving out of the Duterte home.  Not that we would have it any other way.

I remember first meeting Joemar.  First week of the job, first trip overseas, trying to keep all kinds of balls in the air when Marlys brought him over.  It didn’t take more then a few seconds to realize Joemar has development delays, or that he loves Superman for that matter.  To this day I find it helpful to have Auntie Sandy around to translate, but I’ve learned many of the key Joemar terms.  Even if I hadn’t, he usually seems happy to show me around or have me just talk to him.  This last trip he was showing me how he could write his name.

I don’t remember what I thought when I first met Joemar, but I find myself wondering if I realized how valuable he is when I did.  Did I think “he sure is lucky to have CSC?”  Maybe, maybe not.  But, what I know I didn’t realize yet is that CSC sure is lucky to have him.  Not because he’s such a hard worker or a good roommate, but because Joemar is a gem.  He is precious, valuable and reflects light wherever he goes.

I don’t know if I thought it (I know I didn’t say it), but I suspect my attitude when I met Joemar was “poor guy.”  I know myself well enough to know that at first I was focused on what was missing when it came to Joe.  So let’s just get one thing straight: poor me.  What a sad deficit-based approach to a child of a God.  What a blessing I would have missed if I would have only seen so far as Joe’s limitations.  7 years later I thank God that He put a gem named Joemar in my life.  Not because he had something to gain, but because I did.

Though, I suppose I could have something to offer and at least explain blackmail to him.

1 comment   |  tags: , , , | posted in CSC Kids

July 20, 2011

The risk of “chick flicks”

By matthewbuley

I can see now that I had been prepared for adoption long before we traveled to Cebu.  The preparation began before Theresa and I filled out any paperwork or had the first adoption conversation.  In fact, it began before I met her.  I can identify experiences from youth that shaped my idea of family.

It’s a little embarrassing to admit the first one that comes to mind.  I don’t know what I was thinking watching the movie Beaches, but my mom rented it. I was 14 and just starting high school.  I’m confident the moviemakers didn’t have 14 year-old boys in their target audience, but my mom never spent much time in front of a TV so I decided to sit and watch it with her.

At no time before or after have I watched a movie that jarred or depressed me more than that one.  The story follows two friends’ lives together: meeting, separating, reuniting.  There was this sense of life from beginning to end.  At least as far as I can remember, there’s no way I’m watching that movie a second time to confirm any of it.

The story made me think deeply about the paths people take and the brevity of life—maybe for the first time.  In the course of a couple hours I got the impression that one day you’re a kid and the next day you’re gone and there’s nothing you can do about it.

My mom could tell something was wrong, but I didn’t respond to her questions until later that night.  I can’t remember for sure, but I think I cried. I can still picture my mom sitting in my room trying to comfort me as I lamented how short and pointless life is.  I’m sure this didn’t help her impression of the value of watching television.

I must have been a joy to live with for the next few weeks, as I wrestled with the point of life.  At the dinner table, I announced that life is a meaningless cycle.  “You grow up and have kids so they can grow up and have kids and that’s all there is to it,” I explained.  No one knew what to say, but I was able to get my dad to agree and that seemed to satisfy me.  I wonder if they considered having me eat elsewhere for a while.

I want to be careful as I share that.  I certainly don’t feel that way about traditional families anymore.  Generations of family linked by DNA and upbringing is a profound and wonderful thing.  I simply find myself looking back and recognizing that I was being prepared to do family differently.  It is a comforting thing to know you were on a path long before you could see what was coming.  Funny how God works.  Amazing how long it can take to see what He had in mind all along.

5 comments   |  tags: , , , , | posted in Adoption

July 15, 2011

Claiming an adjective

By matthewbuley

We’re coming up on four years of “united” as this family of six.  In those four years, I haven’t exactly pinpointed whether or not I should define myself as an adoptive parent…or if I can drop the adjective and figure I’m just a parent.  Don’t get me wrong, there’s no such thing as “just” raising children.  What I mean is this: is parenting adopted kids a lot different than parenting biological ones?  Is parenting just parenting, regardless of how your kids come to you?

 

 

 

 

 

 

I think I know what you want to read.  I know what I would want to read: It’s all the same.  When you claim children as “mine” then nothing else matters.  It’s all about love, hope and forever.

It is about all those things, but I believe it isn’t that simple.

For most of these four years, Theresa and I have parented like most people parent: we took what our parents did, made some adjustments and got on the horse and started parenting.  We added some reading, and we took some required classes from our adoption agency, but we did most of that before we got our kids.  I’ve known lots of parents waiting to adopt their kids and have learned that a lot of that instruction goes in one ear and out the other.  At least it did with me.  People can tell you this, warn you about that, but there’s this “we’re going to make it work” certainty that can cloud some things over.  You need that certainty, but most of the time people assume their adoption will go fine–when there’s a chance it won’t.

Four years in, and I have to admit, our adoption has gone fine.  It’s gone better than fine.  I’ve seen us and our kids grow in countless ways.  We have not faced the kinds of trauma responses that can come into play.  I’m incredibly thankful.

Still, an opportunity we’d been hoping for came along this summer.  We were able to get two of our kids in to see a pair of impressive play therapists.  It has been unbelievably eye-opening.  Play is eye-opening, and I had no idea how much it can be.  In fact, they’ve been telling us that they’d rather have our kids play than talk.  Sure enough, we are learning things about our kids that are counter-intuitive to what our gut says.  Like someone smiling when they are getting in trouble.  Could you imagine a much more disrespectful response?  I can’t.  Talk about angering, but that unnatural response has roots in trauma…an anxiety response.  Suddenly that small bit of knowledge causes me to respond in an entirely different way.

Maybe adoptive parenting isn’t just like parenting.  Maybe it doesn’t have to be.  I’m okay with being a parent with an adjective in front of the title.  As long as I can cover that other ear quick enough to learn something.

5 comments   |  tags: , , | posted in Adoption

June 9, 2011

More right now

By matthewbuley

Our Sports Illustrated showed up today.  It will probably be a week before I read it.  Which means next week I’ll be reading articles about the NBA Finals as if the Miami Heat were ahead two games to one.  By then the Finals will be over.  You’d think there isn’t much point in someone like me getting this magazine, but our boys love reading it.  I’d have to set a timer and firm expectations to get them to read many books as long as they’ll sit and read this magazine.  So, we get it for good reason.

Even though I’m usually the last one to read it, I’m just as likely to be the first one to open it.  If I see that an issue has arrived I’ll go immediately to the three two-page photos they have at the front of each issue.  These shots are consistently remarkable.  This week was no exception.  I hope I’m not breaking any copyright laws, but I’m pasting a scan of part of one taken by David E. Klutho below.  Something especially caught my eye about this photo of a brutal hockey check.  Not so much the flailing bodies ricocheting off each other, but the people watching behind them.  I circled two of them in particular.

These guys are in a pretty sweet position this week.  They showed up in a photo in Sports Illustrated.  They are the talk of the water cooler if they work somewhere with a water cooler.  They’ve got me beat, I’ve never been in the foreground or background of a photo in any magazine, let alone Sports Illustrated.

But, really, what are they doing?  They have expensive seats to the NHL Finals.  Just feet in front of them some guy from the home team is flipping another guy upside down on top of ice.  You may not like hockey or violence, but this is entertaining.  And these guys are watching it all unfold…on the giant TV screen above the action.

This shouldn’t bother me.  These guys have the right to choose to watch the TV instead of the actual event.  Plus, I’m sure it’s a little hard to see with the players on the bench and the boards in the way.  There’s no reason to criticize these guys, but what they’re doing doesn’t feel right.  They should be watching the real humans doing this right in front of them!

You know what really gets me about this?  Odds are, I’d be doing the exact same thing.

I go to a church where the message is streamed in via video.  It’s a big church doing a lot of good things and there’s nothing wrong with watching the message on video.  It’s just that I read Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller and he says: “At the time I was attending this large church in the suburbs.  It was like going to church at the Gap.”  I get the impression Donald might get that same feeling at my church.  Which is okay, he doesn’t go to my church.  Sometimes though, I will go see someone speak, like at the Christian Alliance for Orphans Summit in Louisville last month.  I was by myself so I sat right up near the front (my family rarely sits up front so this is my way of letting loose a little).  I can be like 20 feet from the speaker and what am I doing?  Watching her speak on the video behind her.  This might be a result of the Gap-church thing.  I’m not sure.

I guess I have a point.  It’s been on my mind a lot lately.  It’s a sort of question I could ask myself at any given time: am I really here now?  I saw a quote not long ago that sums it up nicely: “There is never a time when your life is not ‘this moment,’” Eckhart Tolle.  That isn’t all that radical, but I’m not sure I live that way.  I’m one of the guys looking at the video instead of soaking up the real deal.  I’m thinking about some future ambition, weighing something someone did earlier, separating myself from “this moment” somehow.  Life is too short not to make a bigger deal out of right now.  My wife deserves it, my kids deserve it, I deserve it.  A couple hockey fans helped make that sink in a little further.

5 comments   |  tags: , , | posted in Personal

May 23, 2011

This is what we do

By matthewbuley

We just sent updates to the superstars who sponsor CSC children through our Foster Friends program.  Maybe you got one (if you did, thanks!).

I don’t think I’ve ever been more bummed out to do a Foster Friend update.  It’s not like I did that much work (Roger, Brenda, Joel, Amy, and Tammy all have me beat there), it’s just that I couldn’t help but think about how many kids weren’t in the mailing.  We have had so many kids leave.  We have celebrated that fact!  We worked hard to make that possible, we worked on federal legislation to see one group in particular join their family!  The kids that left did so thanking God their many prayers had been answered.  This is a good thing…I’m sure of it!

It’s just that when I did the mailing I came across Paula’s face.  She’s an awesome CSC kid.  There are lots of those.  We just seemed to hit it off from the start and I was drawn to her and her story right away.  Then she ended up sick once while I was there and I sat with her reading and playing games.  I don’t know, but something about spending time with a sick kid just makes you love them even more.  Just ask our founder and Medical Director, Marlys.

Our Paula is matched for adoption.  She and her family are simply waiting for the paperwork to clear so she can go home.  We are so excited for all involved.  I wouldn’t change any of it.  The truth is though, I’m going to miss Paula.  I will notice her absence when I head to Cebu on my next trip.  Reading the update about her leaving made me much sadder than I could have expected.  I thought about how different the population of the shelter will be since my last trip.  I thought about how fun it was to spend time with so many kids who are now gone.

This is what we do.  We do the best we can for children who were orphaned.  An adoptive family is a part of that philosophy.  We know better than to hope any child will stay at CSC for the long haul.  Some do, and that’s okay, but we take all of them in hoping they’ll have a family some day.  This is for the best.

While I worked on the update with my sullen attitude I understood a bit of what it must be like for our Cebu-based staff.  They don’t come and go from Cebu on short visits.  They live there.  They love those kids with their lives.  They give without really letting up.  And then after all that work, and as a result of all that work, kids leave and they move on.  I’m not entirely sure how they do it, but I’m glad they do.

So here’s to them, and here’s to Paula.  I will miss her more than she realizes.  And somehow, just as much, I’ll be glad she’s gone too.

9 comments   |  tags: , , , , | posted in Adoption, CSC Field Staff, CSC Kids

March 2, 2011

Dawn…and night

By matthewbuley

Are you as bad at waiting as I am?  I hate waiting.  I hate stoplights, lines and being on hold.  I have to admit how hard it is for me to wait for God too, to keep praying for the same thing wondering if it will ever come.

Our Six

Imagine waiting for God to give you a family.  Analiza, Jenive, Bernardo, Birny, Jeffrey and Rafael have been praying for parents since 2005.  Every day and then some.  They wait and wait with no idea if the prayer will be answered.

My devotions brought me to Isaiah 21 this morning.  After reading the repeated question, “Watchman, how far gone is the night,” verse 12 stopped me.  “The watchman says, ‘Morning comes but also night.  If you would inquire, inquire; Come back again.’”

Morning will come, the light will break at the horizon and we will have our dawn.  “…but also night.”  That’s what hit me.  There is a place for the night too.  There is darkness and unknown for a reason.  You are anxious and afraid and anticipating the new day, but there is a place for that anxiety, fear and waiting.  There is especially a place for your hope for what will come.  There is a purpose for all of it.  Keep hoping, and keep asking.  The watchman invites us to keep coming back to ask the same question when we feel the need to again.

Funny how we go to God most often when we are worrying and afraid.  No wonder there is the night.  I can be so consumed by the waiting and wondering when God will answer, that I fail to savor the fact that the waiting is drawing me to God more often than even the excitement of “arriving” can.

God will answer our prayers and open a door.  Of course, we never know if it will be the one we had in mind.  I just pray that those six kids will get the answer they’re asking for.  As I pray with them, I pray for them to be blessed in their waiting too…and that you will join me on their behalf.

5 comments   |  tags: , , , | posted in CSC Kids, Faith & Theology

February 16, 2011

The audacity

By matthewbuley

I have this note on my desk that I’ve been carrying around with me for weeks.  I can’t get over the audacity of some people.

It was sent by a couple who have been giving to CSC generously for many years:

“Please withdraw our name from your mailing list.  We are old and cannot continue to send money.  Thank you for letting us be a part of your ministry for so many years! God Bless.”

Other than their names at the bottom, that was all it said.  I know these names, I’ve seen their giving history.  These people have been faithful donors.  Somewhere along the way they stopped giving $50 every month and started giving $100.  I can’t believe they wrote thanking us for the opportunity to give to our work.  That’s not how this usually works.

Their donor record was at what you might call “Fort Knox” setting.  It had all the privacy settings selected for folks who just don’t want to be contacted.  All these boxes were checked: “do not call, do not mail, do not solicit.”  Of course, I had to at least write a note back.

What I wanted to say was, “Are you nuts?  Do you have any idea how hard it is to raise money for an organization, even one with this mission?  People in my line of work would physically fight each other for one donor like you.  Don’t write to me thanking us.  You were our honor, not the other way around!”

Of course I didn’t say any of that.  The bit about fundraisers fighting each other was the only thing I considered including.  Alright, not really.  I wouldn’t write a word of it…especially anything about it not being their honor to give to us.  I know the kind of people that give to CSC, I know it wouldn’t be true.  These people love that someone is being the hands and feet of Christ in a far away place and that they can join in.

I did say this much: “we responded to God’s call to serve orphans together.”  That we did.  And to this couple who will probably live without ever having read a single blog, least of all mine, I want to say “thank you.  Not a day of ministry happens here without people like you.”

Leave a comment | posted in CSC-USA Stuff

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