We have much to be thankful for in 2013.

Kristi and I celebrated nine years of marriage. Madalyn learned to do a twirl at ballet and started coloring in the lines, sorta. Carson played his first soccer game, learned how to ride a bike, and is writing pretty good letters. Shae started talking . . . and talking . . . and talking. Most of the time she is completely unintelligible, but she is definitely talking. We’re well into our third year here at Desert Springs Church and are blessed for our partnership in the gospel with these dear friends in Christ.

We’re thankful this Christmas for all these things, and especially for the coming of Christ into the world to save sinners through his life, death, and resurrection. We hope and pray that your hope and trust are in him this Christmas.

Here’s a nice new song about the coming of Christ by Keith and Kristyn Getty, “Jesus, Joy of the Highest Heaven.”

One week ago this evening, our family pulled into the parking lot of the Mississippi Children’s Home to meet the rest of our family, Shae Miracle Hunter, for the first time.

Shae was waiting for us in a crib that has been used for just under 100 years for the day when children meet their parents.

She was with her foster family, who has cared for her for the four months since her birth. And with this family, she has had no lack of love or attention or entertainment. This family of six cares for babies in transition as a way of life. They may have a foster baby for a day, or, as in our case, for four months. They enjoy the privilege of loving children between birth and their adoptions. They loved Shae, and we thank God for that.

Shae’s eyes are stunning, her tuft of hair is so Mr. T like, and her manner very sweet. She sleeps through the night, moans when she sleeps, and laughs at her brother and sister.

Carson and Madalyn, by the way, have taken to her very well. They fight over the middle seat in the car so they can look at “baby Shae.” They take turns feeding her, kissing her, and holding her (basically, sitting on the couch with Shae on top of them). But they talk right over each other when speaking about or to their new sister, “It’s okay, sweetheart,” or “Isn’t she sweet?” They must have heard someone speak to the baby this way. They can tell us that she was born in Mississippi, and they know not to wrestle or do cannon balls off the couch in the living room anymore…or at least when the baby is around.

Shae’s birthmother gave her the name, Miracle. We don’t know this woman, but we know how she looked upon the human life in her womb. Since we are their parents, we have taken the privilege of specially naming each of our children. But we’ve been pleased to keep the names given to them by their birthmothers as their middle names. We have done this with Shae as well.

Our very breath is a gift from God, marriage is a gift from God, and children are a gift from God. We thank Him for it all. We’re honored to have this precious girl settled in our home and made a part of our family. May God give us the grace and strength and wisdom to parent Shae to know Him and to love Him with all her heart, mind, soul, and strength.

Here are some photos from the last week:

The weekend began here on Friday afternoon, April 1. 

When we arrived in Mississippi, we stopped by the welcome center and took this sweet shot.

When we arrived, Jerri, the adoptions coordinator for Mississippi Children’s Home, had us sign paperwork before meeting our daughter, since adoptive families are hard to distract from their children once they are united. This room is home to 100 years of adoption paperwork. She showed me the files from 1912.

Here she is! We found her in this crib, chilling out hard.

And there are the eyes. Platinum. And the puff. 

We did not tell them to do this. They asked if they could. 

Us with the foster family. 

Shae’s foster brothers and sisters. They know how to party. 

Now this is a good story. Shae’s foster sister saved up her money for this zebra. When she saw it, she wasn’t sure she’d have enough time to save for it before Shae received parents. But there was enough time and she saved enough money. Shae will have it forever. 

Moms doing their thing. Communicating. 

Jerri is our hero. 

Rowdy.

The hotel room. Carson making me nervous. 

Back at the border. 

These shots were taken on a hill by the Mississippi River at the welcome center. 

Thank you Madalyn for doing this to a wonderful shot. 

Ok, better. 

Yes, this is digitally enhanced. 

We stayed with friends, Tyce and Bethany Jensen on our way through Dallas. 

On our way from Dallas to Albuquerque, we spent a few hours in the afternoon with good friends, Nick and Jennifer Miersma in Lubbock. Jennifer can take some photos. 

This photo cannot be improved. 

We returned home Monday night. But since it was the same price to rent the car for an entire week, we rolled mighty all the way through Thursday.

On Saturday, April 9, Shae was celebrated by a number of friends from church. We’re grateful for their joy in our children, and their joy in the gift of adoption. 

Genius. 

Welcome home, Shae.

That’s what I was about to enjoy when “we have a baby girl!!!” scrolled across my phone.

That was a welcome interruption.

And that text represents a new season in the life of our family and in the life of a beautiful baby girl from Mississippi.

On January 4 we submitted our application for our homestudy. By early March we were on file with three adoption agencies here in the states. On Wednesday, March 23, Kristi received a call from the Mississippi Children’s Home with news that the Lord had given us another daughter. A new mother had chosen us to be parents for her baby.

This little girl, whom we’ve named, Shae, was born on November 25, 2010 at 7:52 PM. She was 6 pounds and 18 inches long.

We’re thanking God today for the sweet woman who cared for her daughter for nine months until her birth. We’re thanking God today for the foster family who has cared for her over these last four months. And we’re thanking God for Mississippi Children’s Home and places like this that counsel women in crisis pregnancies and help facilitate adoptions when women, for whatever tragic reason, are unable to care for their babies. And we’re thanking God for His people. Orphans have a great reception here at Desert Springs Church.

Wherever there is an orphan there is a reminder that things aren’t right here. But wherever there is an adoption there is a reminder that God has not left us alone.

The God who made the world and everyone in it is a “Father to the fatherless,” and He settles the fatherless in homes (Psalm 68:4-6). He is also the one to whom Jesus taught his discipels to pray, “Our Father in heaven…” (Matthew 6). Though we were his enemies, to those who believe in the name of Christ, He gives the right to become children of God (John 1). The significance of this privilege is seen in the transition of an orphan when they receive parents and a home.

Our first two adoptions took over two years from start to finish. This adoption will take a little over two months. God’s adoption of a people to Himself spans all eternity (Ephesians 1).

We expect to travel to Mississippi to receive our daughter mid to late next week.

We ask that you’d  pray for a smooth physical, emotional, and legal transition for this baby girl into our family.

There are plenty of chiles in this place for another New Mexican. We mean to share the love.

Today marks the 40th anniversary of my parents’ marriage. God has given me, my family and so many others so much through this great feat of promise-keeping faithfulness. The following letter opened a 100 page book to mom and dad from all their kids. The book is sprinkled with photos, lists of memories, letters from family and old friends, and a sermon dedicated to mom and dad from both drew and me. You can view the album here. Thanks to everyone who contributed, and congratulations, mom and dad!

Years: Some of these are great. Some of these are hard. They’re filled with people and places worth remembering. You’ve had 40 of them together now. This book is a compilation of photos, memories, and words in your honor on this day.

It’s said that a picture can tell a thousand words. We like pictures, but we still like words more. God revealed himself in a book of words, not pictures. So we want to share a few of our own with you.

First, some words about growing up in your home. We thank God for parents committed to some unpopular but basic ideals. You were committed to making sure your children had a mother home with them all the time. That was a good decision for many reasons, and the world is safer for it! We remember waking up in Crystal Lake to dad’s leather soled shoes on the wood floor downstairs before leaving to catch the train. We remember being greeted by mom’s voice and one of many names that only a mom can get away with – “sunshine” and “punkin eater” come to mind. We remember playing in the ravine by our home in the woods, building forts, sledding in the snow, and getting all scraped up like kids should. We remember swim lessons and soccer practice and drum lessons and Taekwon-Do tournaments. We remember asking to be excused from the dinner table and kissing you both goodnight before we went to bed. We also remember being disciplined when we rebelled (Trent, especially; Tyler, not so much). We remember raking leaves on to giant tarps, and mowing dandelions, grass, and frogs in the back yard in the Spring.

We remember growing up with Tyler – his happy squeals, his smiles, his seizures. We remember mom crying when you two made the decision to place him at Little Angels. He is your much-loved “baby.” We remember weekly trips to Little Angels. Later, we remember getting calls from mom on her way to Chicago whenever Tyler got sick. Nothing stood in her way. And we remember dad making two twelve hour round trips in a thirty-six hour period when death threatened Tyler’s life a few years ago. What we don’t remember is Tyler before he was brain damaged. Honestly, neither of us can relate with the pain you two have known, and neither of us wish to know what that must be like. We are both parents now of children about Tyler’s age when the trouble came. Your hearts break for him, albeit in different ways, and you suffer because your son has suffered. You are bound to one another. Tyler, of course, is the toughest person among us, surprising even doctors with his resilience and commitment to live. And sometimes surprising us by speaking words like “fighting” and “water!”

Thankfully, we know that God is good and powerful and wise. He said so in Jesus Christ. He is not surprised by anything, though His purposes are greatly mysterious and understood for what they are only from the distance of eternity. And we know that God entered into our pain, sending his Son to suffer with us and, ultimately, to suffer in our place on the cross. He takes on our suffering and gives us his joy. One day, Tyler will know the joy of his Maker, and we who are found safe in Christ will know that joy with him.

We also remember dad coming home with news that we were moving to California, and in California with news that Woolworth was through, and a year later, that we were moving to St. Louis. Actually, we don’t remember those moments, but we know they happened. We remember dad flicking off the apartments where he stayed for six months alone before the family followed him to Pleasanton. In a funny way, that was a gesture of love for us. “We’re moving” is tough news to tell kids, but we consider our many moves a part of God’s gracious plan to bring us to Himself. We know it makes for a sense of uprootedness, but we wouldn’t have it any other way.

Now, some words about marriage. It is hard to appreciate the humanness of your parents when you’re not married. Marriage has a way of pulling back the curtain on our own selfishness. Our sin is reflected back to us in its effects on our relationship. Neither of you are invincible or perfect. We always knew that. But now we can relate. We’ve seen you fight. We’ve seen you confront one another in bad patterns and bad decisions. We’ve seen you patiently bear with one another. We’ve seen you forgive one another. There’s a reason why a 40th anniversary is a rare occasion: Sinners are trouble. Marriage is hard work. But it is good work, and we’re thankful you’ve believed that and proven that together.

But while marriage reveals our problems, Ephesians 5:22-33 shows us how God designed marriage to be a picture of His solution: “Wives, submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife even as Christ is the head of the church, his body, and is himself its Savior… Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, that he might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, so that he might present the church to himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish… ‘Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.’ This mystery is profound, and I am saying that it refers to Christ and the church.” We’ve seen you two sacrifice for one another at a number of levels and in a number of ways over the years. Our most prominent memory is when dad was on the edge of death for a month back in 2001. Mom never left his side, and, as Aunt Fran says, “Your mom saved your dad’s life.” Dad would have done the same. We thank God for using the bond of marriage to protect our dad.

In marriage, we see something of God’s own faithfulness. He keeps His promises like we do but more certainly. He loves like we do, but in Christ he died for even His enemies. Wherever we fall short, we have a reminder of our need for Him. And wherever we succeed, we have a reminder of the one who does so perfectly. Thanks for giving us a picture of promise-keeping permanence and so teaching us about God’s love for us in Christ.

Finally, some words about being parents. Having children also helps us appreciate you. It occurs to us now that you changed our diapers. Thanks for that. And while we don’t remember being jerks at two, we surely must have been. We do remember being jerks later. Between three kids, you knew sleepless nights for years, no doubt. We probably almost killed ourselves hundreds of times. So, thanks for saving our lives that many times. Thanks for the food and the bed. Thanks for working hard to pay for things, and for seeing us through college. Most importantly, thanks for your great love for your children. The discipline and provision and affection taught us much about God.

In the space of the last two years you have become grandparents to four children: Carson and Madalyn, through Trent and Kristi, and two children from Drew and Christina, Connor having just arrived from Ethiopia, and the other one waiting in the womb.

Because family is the most meaningful thing a marriage creates, we’ve focused on family in this book. The memories and story is told from our perspective, so there are, no doubt, all kinds of important people and memories left out. The photos and words in this book tell something of this edition of the Hunter family, from your childhood until today.

There are only a few things that last forty years these days. This marriage is one of them. By God’s grace, ours will last that long, too.

On this 30th day of January, 2011, your children and grandchildren are thanking God for your marriage.

We love you,

Tyler, Trent, and Drew

Click here to view this photo book larger

That’s Christmas (Short Film) HD from St Helen’s Church on Vimeo.

I can remember my first Christmas believing and trusting and hoping in Jesus Christ. My parents could tell you just how bad I made our Christmases as a family. They were generous but modest. I got a nintendo game. The neighbor kid got twenty. So, I wasn’t spoiled, relatively speaking. But the lure of any material thing was enough to spoil me. And this is because things were my god. In the words of the apostle Paul, I “exchanged the truth about God for a lie and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator” (Romans 1:25).

But when Christmas came, when I got whatever thing my heart was locked on, I was terribly let down. My heart was trying to get the kind of pleasure it was made to know in a relationship with something created, rather than the Creator. The year I came to know Christ and the forgiveness of sins through him, I can remember not caring about what I got for Christmas. Material things had become irrelevant to me, not as a matter of will or decision, but as a matter of heart transformation. I only noticed it happened as Christmas approached and mom asked me what I wanted. Every year previous, I was fixed on something mid-summer. That year, I couldn’t think of anything. And the explanation for that is that God had filled my heart with himself in Jesus Christ. I didn’t do that. God did.

The meaning of Christmas is found in the meaning of the incarnation of the Son of God. In space-time history, God became a man and, as John says, “he dwelt among us” (John 1:14). This crying baby, Jesus, was God himself visiting us, and visiting us in order to save us from everything terrible – from sin, death and from hell – from everything I was asking for. He came to show us God’s glory and to bring us to Him. Of this Jesus, John writes,

“The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not know him. He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him. But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God, who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God.” John 1:9-13

He was born, he lived a perfect life God requires of us, and he died the death we deserve, and he was raised from the dead so that we might be raised with him through faith. May we “[see] his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth,” and believe in his name this Christmas (John 1:14).

HT: Justin Taylor

HT: Bryan Lopez

Here are some photos from your birthday:

This was the wonderful cake your mother made for you. I know it looks like a board game, but it is a cake.

This was the invitation for your party. That’s a number two. Those faceless children in the background aren’t real children.

This was the gang that showed up to celebrate two years of your life. We met some at the church and some at the park. There is a man in the middle wearing a red jersey. We do not root for his team.

You maxin’ in hoodie.

Mountain. Pavilion. Free giant chutes and ladders.

You distracted by cones when all of your friends wanted to play.

At some point this will come to an end, but it brings you too much joy for that to be on your birthday. You love making dust clouds in the wood chips.

Forget about the climbing wall. It’s a jumping wall. Nice landing.

These are the flowers I got for you that you don’t really understand, but will appreciate when you’re 18 and I get you flowers on your birthday.

It’s time.

Talking to grandma and grandpa Hunter.

Kissing them…without prompt.

Talking to grandma and grandpa Robinson.

According to your math, six is only two away from two. You are growing up fast, but we won’t allow for that. It’s 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 then on from there. Be 2. Enjoy 2. Help us enjoy 2 too. Obey your parents in everything, for this pleases the Lord.