One year ago, Adam and I walked into an orphanage filled with over 100 children in Novosibirsk, Russia, and were met with the most horrifying sound we have ever heard: Silence.

Hidden behind the closed doors that line the long, dark corridors in Baby Home #3, there lay hundreds of children whose hearts have surrendered to the pressure of a broken and dying world. They have looked through the slats in their cribs that keep them contained, and past the tears that blur their eyes for far too long. Day after day, they have seen the same hurried feet walk past them; the busy hands of those who have the ability to heal their heartache never reach out, and these children living within the cold walls of the orphanage lose hope, succumbing to the silence of despair.

How can babies live in silence and bear such an oppressive weight? For Satan’s grip is firm and relentless and they are defeated before they even have a chance to live.

Revelation 12
1 A great sign appeared in heaven: a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet and a crown of twelve stars on her head. 2 She was pregnant and cried out in pain as she was about to give birth.
3 Then another sign appeared in heaven: an enormous red dragon with seven heads and ten horns and seven crowns on its heads. 4 Its tail swept a third of the stars out of the sky and flung them to the earth. The dragon stood in front of the woman who was about to give birth, so that it might devour her child the moment he was born.

And I am reminded of another baby that lived so long ago. A baby whose flesh would be torn and the weight of a broken world placed on His shoulders. Surely the majesty of the story playing out before her eyes must have brought all of earth to her knees. For it was during that holy night so long ago, when God and man collided in a humble display of flesh and bone, and the sound of a baby’s cry broke through the silence, that death lost its grip and stumbled backward.

Who could have anticipated that this was how God would redeem his broken children?

We stood inside the silent walls of Baby Home #3 and looked down at the little girl lying by our feet. When our eyes met, she pushed up on her arms and dragged her weak legs behind her. We smiled at her and called her name and this silent girl looked at us and hope shone in her eyes. As we kneeled down to pick her up, we were struck with the reality of living in this upside-down kingdom. Because it’s here we learn that in order to partake in His story; in order and bring hope and healing to this broken world, we must first stoop down low and become broken ourselves.

May you experience the fullness of Christ as you dwell on the truth of that Silent Night so long ago, and partake in His story, so that you may give a voice to those who have lost their own.

Merry Christmas,
Anna

I woke up this morning to the voice of a man speaking in Spanish on my answering machine. I didn’t know what to make of it until I heard the word ‘escuelas’, and suddenly it hit me…

School has been closed for the day!!

I quickly ran to the nearest window. Looking out, I saw 8 inches of pure, white snow and I grew giddy with excitement!

“Oh the possibilities”, I told myself. “We can sip hot chocolate, watch movies, sled, have snowball fights and build snow forts! First things first, though, I need to shovel the driveway and then we can start the day!”

I limped back into the house one hour and forty-five minutes later feeling like I had just been pulled through a knot-hole backwards. To say that shoveling 8 inches of snow off of a driveway and two sidewalks is arduous would be an understatement.

As the boys threw on their hats and gloves and headed out the door, I reminded them to be on the look out for my right arm. It fell off about 5 feet to the right of the mailbox, but the kink in my back kept me from picking it up.

They returned to the house 30 minutes later with my arm and stood on the carpet while nearly three gallons worth of snow melted off of their boots.

“Scat!” I said. “You’re making a mess.”

“Can we get something to eat first?”

“In a minute, just get outside.”

30 minutes later a head poked through the front door and said, “Moooommmmm, can we have some hot chocolate?”

“In a minute. Just get outside!”

An hour later I heard another voice:

“Mooommm!”

“What?!?”

“Can we have some lunch?”

“In a minute. Just get outside!”

Forty-five minutes later an unfamiliar voice yells, “Can we get a fruit snack?”

“Go ask your own mother for a fruit snack!”

“But you are my own mother.”

“If I’m your mother, then where did you come from?”

“I could answer that but then you’d be embarrassed.”

I decided at that point that it would be best if I just locked the door.

I tallied up the damage when the boys finally returned from playing outside. 1 achy body, 1 igloo in my front yard, 2 empty shelves in my pantry, 3 soggy carpets, 2 muddy floors and 4 dryer loads of wet snow clothes.

Is it just me or are snow days overrated?

I suppose I'll just sit on the couch with my kiddos and turn on a movie. Don't start thinking that I'm getting sentimental, it's just that I have no other choice...it's the only dry spot in this house!