New ADOPTION song from Nashville "Heart of Adoption" CD

Becky Wright | Indieheaven | Discover The other 99% of Christian Music

Hear the BRAND NEW song "Always Be Mom and Dad" from the Heart of Adoption CD in progress in Nashville... click on the very 1st song (at the top) when you get there! LET ME KNOW what you think! (All donors to the Heart of Adoption project get a FREE download of this song!) Want to jump on board to help finish this life-changing music project? (All donations are tax-deductible.) More info & short video with COOL PERKS for donors of $1 or more, here: www.beckywrightsongs.com

Sheerah: Grieving Woman... Builder of Cities

I was reading last week in a perhaps not-so-frequented passage of scripture in 1st Chronicles chapter 7, and was literally stopped in my tracks at one particular verse. In the plethora of hard-to-pronounce names of men, grandsons and great-grandsons, an unexpected name in a paradoxical moment of history was revealed.

Describing the lineage of Ephraim, who was one of the twelve sons of Israel (aka Jacob), several sons and grandsons were named. It proceeds to mention two other sons, Ezer and Elead, who were killed by some of the locals in the city of Gath, when Ezer and Elead were trying to steal their cattle. Ouch!!  What a shame-- not only the great loss of two lives, but a black cloud of a less-than-scrupulous legacy to leave to their grieving families.

In fact, verse 22-23 recounts: "Their father Ephraim mourned for them many days, and his relatives came to comfort him. Then he made love to his wife again, and she became pregnant and gave birth to a son. He named him Beriah [which means "unlucky"], because there had been misfortune in his family."  Every time they called their new baby's name, it would be painful reminder that their family was "unlucky".

Bad stuff. Painful truth. Real life.  Descendants of the great "Father Abraham", Isaac and their grandfather Jacob, they probably felt certain of a hope-filled destiny, a proud heritage to uphold and continue.  But now tragedy-- and shame-- hit like a tsunami.

However, the next verse- only one sentence in its entirety- struck me like the early morning ray of sunlight to sleepy eyes. Verse 24 says: "His daughter Sheerah, who built Lower and Upper Beth Horon as well as Uzzen Sheerah."  It's as if, "Oh-- Ephraim had a daughter, too, and her name was Sheerah (usually daughters or wives weren't even mentioned- much less by their names), and she built several cities."  Wow!! 

Tragedy has stricken most families, mine included.  My sister Elizabeth, born two years after me, was a devoted single mom of five children. Liz was extremely talented, creative, intelligent, and feisty to the core. Tough as a boot- sweet as raw honey, full of faith in God. However, our world came screeching to a halt in June 2004, beginning with a nightmarish phone call from the sheriff.

Elizabeth had taken her five children, Amanda (13), Joseph (11), James (9), Michaela (8), and little Jeneva (aka "Jenny", age 2) fishing at the Illinois River north of town. Our three nephews, Jonathan, Benjamin and Timothy also went along, celebrating the beginning of summer and school vacation.  Young James didn't care for fishing, so he amused himself catching crawdads and minnows in knee-deep water nearby. I didn't know until years later that his mom had warned him three times not to get in the water.

When the strong current knocked James off his feet, Elizabeth did what any normal mother would do- she jumped in to save her son, swimming with all her might to reach him. The other seven children ran along the shore, screaming for help. People began to dive in to find Elizabeth, to no avail. Her body was found thirty minutes later, half a mile downstream.

Poor James told us later, "Angels got me to shore, but momma didn't make it." Elizabeth had shoved him toward a tree root and he was able to climb out. His brother Joseph watched as his mother "closed her eyes and went under... like she just passed out".  They watched their mother save their brother's life, then they watched as her own life ended.

It is likely that Sheerah's brothers, in the bible account, were married and had children- possibly as many or more than my sister had. It is likely that they experienced the same shock and grief and anger and horror and all the other emotions that accompanied my sister's death-- her seeming "untimely" passage into eternity.  I truly know that she is in Heaven, that she is very much "alive"-- just not living where we are-- yet.  And I do not- we do not- grieve as the world grieves, who have no hope of eternal life-- but we STILL grieve, deeply and painfully. A huge cavern exists in our hearts, that will not be filled and healed until we see her again in Heaven. We now gush with joy over Liz's first-born grandbaby, Rachel Elizabeth, born in March 2010.  We try to love her like Lizzie would- but nothing can make up for her absence.

The Bible doesn't mention when Sheerah began building cities (whether before or after her brothers were murdered), but I'm venturing to guess that it didn't happen until after.  Perhaps the sting of shame, perhaps to give her grieving sisters-in-law, nieces and nephews something to feel proud about- or even to provide for their families (which was usually the "man's job")... we don't know.  Whatever her motivation, though, Sheerah turned her pain into purpose. No doubt she held a deep faith in God, as I do, and she experienced the divine help and guidance that only faith can provide.

Beyond the grief, we can truly find greatness and goodness.

Past the pain, we can find purpose... and providence.

Be encouraged today in your journey.  My husband and I will be celebrating our 18th wedding anniversary in March. Both abandoned, divorced, and left with our own grieving children, it was a momentous day when two single parents blended our families for what we hoped would be a brighter future-- and a "happily ever after". 

As my sister Liz described us, "God took two lemons and made lemonade." 

I pray that you'll let Him do that for you today.  Build a city, or at least a good legacy. Elizabeth did-- Sheerah did-- and I hope I will, too.

My Haunting Dream: The Orphan Killing

“A Haunting Dream: The Orphan Killing”

A true testimony of Becky Wright, Written down on Aug. 2, 2010.

Thirty-two days ago, on June 30th, 2010, I had a very disturbing dream. Its images and sounds are so vivid in my memory that it haunts me even now. I knew when I awoke that I was supposed to write it down—not that I could ever forget the details of it, but so that I could share it with others. However, I am reluctant to speak of it (and have only told two people the details of the dream so far) because it is not a “happy message” or a beautiful thought to contemplate. I’ll share at the end what I believe God has shown me to be the meaning of the dream. Perhaps He will show you, too, or help you understand it better than me? I pray so.  Amen.

“Extraordinary Choir Rehearsal”

It was our final choir rehearsal before the bigger-than-ever patriotic July 4th service. The music, the voices, the instruments sounded heavenly, and we were all exuberant with anticipation for this Sunday’s outreach.  We prayed for lost souls to be saved, for God's protection of our military, and for people to be blessed. Our pianist then announced that we were adding another aspect to our “performance”: a choreographed field marching routine, like a high school band would do for a half-time show. I couldn’t believe it… but we all went to the field to sing and play, perfectly choreographed, in precise formation, to reach the lost.  It would be the “best performance ever” from our church choir and worship team, and God would be glorified through it... at least that was our hope and assumption.

“Stepping on Children”

As we left the rehearsal, we had to crawl through a very small and rustic door opening (as if between two floors of a building) to put away our choir notebooks. The pianist and I chatted excitedly until we entered the room to put away our music. The room was filled with children, maybe fifty or more, jam-packed and sitting cross-legged on the floor. They appeared to be Latino, and there was one woman (also Latino/ Hispanic) at the front of the room, speaking to them in their language. There was no aisle to walk between the children; we literally had to step on the children to put away our notebooks on the shelf in the back of the room. The children winced but did not make a sound as we stepped on their legs and hands, as if they were accustomed to such treatment. We wondered why they were there, but still we left without speaking to the children or to their caretaker.

“The Swamp Creatures”

After we exited the building, I found myself alone, and looking at a grotesque sight. Standing on the edge of a swamp, a murky-looking pond, I saw two babies on a nearby shore. Their heads were deformed and their legs were shorter than usual, like an unfortunate combination of birth defects or dwarfism. One was black and one was white, one with hair and one with none. They let out a pitiful and weak cry, having been left to die by their mothers, who were nowhere to be seen. I then noticed a man with a television camera apparently filming a documentary about these pathetic creatures. I could even hear the British accent of the narrator who told the story of these “forgotten children”. They did nothing to help the babies, but only told their story for the world to see... like a freak show. A sordid form of entertainment.

“Drowning the Children”

I then heard the splashing of water and turned to see a sight that still makes me shudder and scream inside. It appeared to be my own husband, a good Christian man, throwing children—all sizes and colors—into the water to drown. He put a heavy weight around their arms to hold them down- like an inner-tube made of lead, and plunged them into the water to drown more quickly. I screamed at him to stop, but he methodically continued, seemingly overwhelmed by the task of caring for these orphans who’d been abandoned, and (in his way) attempting to end their suffering. He then picked up a red can and began pouring what appeared to be gasoline into the water, to poison the water and hasten their death! At first, the drowning children looked somewhat disfigured, and were mostly black or Hispanic-looking. But soon the children being “thrown away” began to be Caucasian-looking, blond-haired, with no obvious physical deformities-- much like my own children.

“My Own Son”

Then the most horrific part of the dream occurred, and I cry and rage every time I see it. My husband grabbed our own first-born son, Aaron (age 14) and another boy approximately 4 years old, and wedged the heavy “ring of death” around them both, which held their arms down so they could not escape, and shoved them into the water. I saw the little boy coughing and screaming under the water, and watched my own son Aaron as his eyes simply closed as they began to sink. I jumped into the water and grabbed the boys from underneath, to free them from their yoke of death. As I pulled them to shore, I heard Aaron groaning and knew that he must still be alive, so I began to breathe into the little boy’s mouth and give him chest compressions. He started to cough up water and cry, so my attention turned back to my own son. I shook Aaron and cried, “Aaron, are you okay?” Aaron scrambled to his feet and replied, “Yes, just get me away from him,” nodding his head toward the man who’d thrown him into the water – the very person whom he’d once trusted with his life.

“Awakened from the Nightmare”

I awoke suddenly from this horrible, unimaginable nightmare, and immediately tears filled my eyes and my heart pounded—with relief, with rage, with compassion, with guilt, with a deep sadness, but also with a sense of urgency --and destiny-- like never before. I wept and prayed intermittently throughout the day, asking God the meaning of the dream, then weeping all the more as He revealed it to me, bit by bit. Here’s what I understand, as I continue to pray for even more understanding:

“Spreading the Gospel?”

Before I continue, please don’t misunderstand what I’m about to share. I am a professional musician and songwriter, a voice and piano teacher, and former school music teacher who has written and produced hundreds of “shows”, both in schools, and church/evangelistic outreaches (utilizing music, etc.). I believe what the scripture says about “playing skillfully upon the instruments”, and in presenting the Gospel with excellence, utilizing whatever talent and resources each particular situation requires. In my dream, our choir and music ministry was doing just that—what we truly felt God wanted us to do in presenting a fabulous musical outreach to the community. However, in the hoop-la and busy-ness of all our “service to the LORD”, we stumbled upon the children in the obscure, crowded room. We had to stoop to even reach them, entering through an almost “half-door”. It wasn’t comfortable or convenient. And, like many others before us, we stepped on and right over the children, never inquiring to see how we could help their situation. It was as if we pretended they didn’t exist.

“Disposable Children… to Whom?”

In the dream I believe that my husband represented the “every-day Joe Christian”. Hank is a father of nine children, and a Child Welfare Supervisor, a former pastor and Navy Chaplain, a faithful church attendee, and an obvious Christian. Yet, seemingly overwhelmed with the task of so many children in need, he saw his murderous acts as “mercy-killings”, since (he thought, as many of us do, even unconsciously), “We can’t save them all, so why try?” And, like the deformed babies left on the beach to die, we’ve erroneously come to believe that “disabled” or disfigured children (or adults), particularly with a different skin color and different language, are “disposable” or less valuable than our own children. We would never admit it, and it’s certainly not politically (or spiritually) correct to say such a horrid, ego-centric thing.

“Not My Child!”

We stepped over and upon the quiet children with brown skin and a strange language, huddled in a cramped room, as we went on our way doing our “Christian service”. They weren’t our children, we reasoned. Like the camera man filming a documentary, we watch with a mix of intrigue and sympathy —but react with apathy (by not acting), because we see the task as overwhelming, and therefore not worth the effort. Our very lack of action, however, is the fruit and evidence of what we truly believe, what we treasure —or what we devalue. If GOD, our Heavenly Father, had such an attitude, NO ONE would be saved… no, not one.

But when my OWN SON was in danger, being “disposed of” like garbage, then I sprang into action. Then I saw the urgency and necessity of immediate intervention, to stop this ongoing crime, and save these children. They were each precious in God’s sight!! They were ALL called to be His, and to represent every tribe, tongue, and nation around God’s throne in Heaven one day, as Revelation 5:9 tells us: "You are worthy… and with your blood you purchased men for God from every tribe and language and people and nation.”

“What Now?”

I found my eyes filled with tears a few hours later as I went grocery shopping. I only had $7 to spend, so I counted every penny to choose some things to last for four more days until my next paycheck. Normally, I might have felt a little sorry for myself for my “cash-flow problem”, but today I only felt blessed—and guilty. As I walked through the fresh produce, I thought, “Just think how many people this much food would feed in an impoverished village! I’ll have more money in four days, but they won’t. My children have never gone hungry, but millions of children die of starvation. We have so much… What can I do? What do You want me to do, LORD?” I prayed for clear direction concerning what GOD was leading me to do, and also how/when/where to even share this disturbing dream.

“From Despair to Destiny”

I have no doubt that the LORD sent this dream, as I could and would never have conjured up such a horrid event. (The Word says that God will send dreams, more and more, in the last days.) I would never purposefully kill my own child, let alone another child, even a “stranger’s child”. But what I truly believe Jesus meant for me to see (and hopefully, those who will read or hear this) is just this: As we value the children of the world, so we will value our own children--- if we can grasp the heart of God in this matter! GOD loves them just as much… and died for their salvation, as well! (John 3:16, Matthew 28:19-20) We must go to the remote and obscure places where they cry for help—and answer the call. Isn’t that where Jesus would be? He said He is… and so are we… when we meet their needs, “the least of these”, in His name, by the Spirit’s power, and with His life-changing love.

“The Promise (and Definition) of True Religion”

In John 14:18, Jesus told us: “I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you.” God came to us… so we should take God to them. Matthew 25: 37-40 gives us this promise: "Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?' "The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.' Romans 12:21 admonishes us to “Be not overcome with evil, but overcome evil with good.” I believe that James 1:27 defines and summarizes this high calling: “Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.”

For Christ’s Sake, and for all of His children worldwide, Becky Wright Aug. 2, 2010 www.beckywrightsongs.com

Tim Hawkins-Tech Support

Tears at breakfast... Lizzie died 6 yrs. ago today:((

I saw a package of seeds (for green beans) laying on the table this morning at breakfast, as I sipped my coffee. All of the sudden, my mind went back several years (maybe 2003?) to a time when my younger sister Elizabeth (Liz or Lizzie) was sick for weeks, and trying-- as a single mom of five young children-- to care for them while being ill. I worked full-time as a music teacher, but when I found out her dilemna, I made a home-made beef stew, snapping some beans from our own little garden, to add to the other vegetables.



I also made no-bake cookies (Liz & her kids' favorite) and took the goodies over to her house-- feeling AWFUL that she'd been so cavelier about her condition-- suffering silently, as she did much of the time-- that I didn't even know she was sick for the first two weeks. (We only lived about 10 miles apart.)


When I arrived and took the food in, Liz said with grateful, teary eyes, "That's the most 'Christian' thing anyone's ever done for me." I felt even WORSE, that apparently no one else had reached out to this single mom, none one seemed to know... But, as her SISTER, I certainly felt badly that I didn't visit her more, spend more time, etc. And, it wasn't home-made lasagna with garlic bread or even chicken fajitas... it was just a one-pot hamburger stew. Just a small step up from sandwiches, I figured. Only with home-grown green beans. :))  Hindsight...

In the middle of this 5-second flash-back sparked by the package of green bean seeds on the table, my eyes darted to the calendar on the wall... JUNE 3rd. I fell apart with sobs like I haven't had in years (well, months...)

Six years ago today Elizabeth dove into a raging river to save the life of her 9-year-old son James, who'd lost his balance in the current as he waded in to catch minnows and crawdads, while his mom and siblings were fishing. Liz was only 35 years old, home-schooled her children, to raise them as Christians, and (ironically) protect them from "the evils of th world", including from things that had happened to her as a little girl--- thus her "over-protective" nature. (She suffered some things that would make it difficult to trust anyone...)

We can't number our days... only GOD does that. No river, no disease, no terrorist or drunk driver. We MUST trust His Sovereignty... what are our choices? Live in fear everyday, or bitterness and resentment and cynicism most of the time? Or will we be comforted in God's presence, and encourage others to trust Him even when it hurts?

Lizzie knew and loved Jesus, and I have NO doubt where she is. Our dad has since joined her, just in September of 2009. She is also with the babies that she miscarried-- 3 more children to add to the five here, who are still on "this side of eternity".

Will I still cry, until Jesus comes??? OF COURSE. But my grief, OUR grief as believers, is not without hope...

Until then, thanks for your prayers. I will grieve, or rejoice, with YOU, too, my brothers and sisters.

Becky

P.S: If you haven't heard the song that Lizzie wrote (on my "No Denying" album- listen at Indie Heaven) called "Where the Lamb WIll Be the Light"-- I invite you to. She wrote it at the age of 19, and we used to sing it together. Prophetic...

Mixed feelings about my kids' new Birth Certificates

I received my (newly adopted) children's new birth certificates today, with mixed emotions. Jeffery is now 10, and little Jaycie just turned 4. (The children came to live with us 15 months ago, a foster-adoption. Kinship for Jeffery [my biological cousin] but no biological relation for his baby half-sister.)
Once again, I felt their pain, their loss-- of the birth family who "should have" loved them and raised them, of the future that they "should have" had with the birth mother who bore them-- in a perfect world. Terribly addicted to drugs and alcohol, however, she could not continue to be their mother, at least not in a parenting role. What a terrible LOSS for (now, my) children. Their extended birth family (most from West Virginia, some from Georgia) did (and does) love them, however, and I am forever grateful for the efforts they DID show to care for my babies-- until they were mine (we live in Oklahoma).

I've made 3 different DVD's for my children's birth families, sent photos, etc., and email and call the one relative (an aunt) who still has a telephone, and internet. (Most of them have neither... which many of us cannot fathom living without.) I see the TREASURES I have in this precious boy and darling little girl, and I grieve for their birth family's great loss... it must tear at their hearts that these babies are so far away, from their hugs, their familiar ways, their kisses and laughter.

All adoption (whether a newborn, from foster care, or an orphanage- or from direct relinquishment by a family you know) involves LOSS-- on the part of many parties. What is GAIN for the new parents (and "gain" for the newly adopted children- who have a future, a hope, security, provisions, LOVE in their new home) is also a loss for the children, and for their birth families.

Believe me, my children are MINE, and before the world was created, God knew that they were MEANT to be MINE. Because He also knew the choices that their birth family would make, the addictions, the neglect, and the abuse that my children would suffer before being "plucked out of the fire" and brought to a safe place... their "forever home", our home--- their home. We are all SO BLESSED to be a family, and to have each other. NO DOUBT... only compassion and empathy for my children's losses, and that of their original family.

I've been working on Life Books for each child-- a work in progress. I'd saved a page for the new birth certificates (which, as I shared, just arrived an hour ago in my mailbox). Before that page, however, are 3-4 other pages about their birth mother, fathers (different for each child), their grandmother, cousins, and aunts that I'm aware of, and with whom most of whom I deliberately still keep contact. This is for my children... they've lost enough, hurt enough, had enough "broken connections"--- I don't want their whole history to "disappear". I just want to give them as much love -- and help for healing and understanding (and forgiving)-- as I can.

May healing come... God help us all. (I know He will, and is!)

Blessings to you all. Becky Wright

WHY on earth would you vote for me?

Hello-- Becky Wright here. I've been contacted a few times from some "industry folk" that I should be "inviting my fans" to VOTE for me for some music awards I'm up for. Now, honestly, I'd rather pluck my eyebrows or clean toilets than hound my fans & friends to spend 5 minutes to jump through a few hoops for me, for which they receive no "tangible return". Know what I mean?


However, I got an email from a young woman this morning, who had attended a recent concert of mine, at a tiny church of only about 30 people in attendance. After the concert, she tearfully confided in me some things about her life (concerning child abuse she'd suffered, adoption, finding Christ), and that she KNEW that she was supposed to be there that night to hear my songs and my testimony. Her email today said:

"I hope you remember me from [church name]. I was going to send you my "story" of my adoption and what happened after... I think writing it down will even touch my own mind and heart as well, but am excited that someone is interested in "me" as I have never really "belonged" anywhere; and now someone says "I want to hear your story"! Thank you, that made me feel of worth. I will be in touch soon. You take care and God bless you!!!"


A life CHANGED... HOPE restored... a heart beginning to HEAL. THAT'S why I do what I do. God taking my "mess" and making it into a "message" of hope and restoration. Reason enough.


That being said, awards tend to "open doors", like something nice on a resume. People tend to believe you might actually have something to say or share, if thousands of "fans" believe that about you. SO, I'm asking YOU to VOTE in the Agape Fest Awards, by the April 15th deadline (7 days from when I'm writing this!), and would certainly appreciate your consideration. Here's the link to sign up: (Free, of course): http://www.kingcountryagapefest.com/vote2010.html

Below is the "Official" press release, FYI. Also, if you live in north Texas or anywhere nearby, I would LOVE to meet you at the festival! (FREE for fans.) Let me know! Becky


OFFICIAL PRESS RELEASE:

The 9th Annual King Country Agape Fest, this year to be held in Granbury, Texas, announces its Top 5 Finalists for various awards in music and media. Becky Wright, Oklahoma singer/songwriter and 2008 Agape Fest Female Songwriter of the Year, is among the Finalists for Female Vocalist of the Year, and Female Songwriter. Christian Artists, radio & TV personnel and others are nominated. The public is urged to cast their vote for their favorites, before the April 15th deadline. Go to: www.kingcountryagapefest.com/vote2010.html to see the list of finalists and sign up to vote (online, and FREE).

The 2010 Agape Fest, sponsored by KNGR King Country Radio, takes place in downtown Granbury, TX, an hour south of Ft. Worth/ Dallas, from Wed.-Sat. June 23rd - 26th. Over 100 Christian/gospel and positive country artists from across the USA & Canada will perform at 10 restaurants and other venues around the city. The festival includes a Talent Competition, Songwriting Competition, Top 5 Awards Show (open to the public), and culminates with the Awards Show on Sat. June 26th. The festival is FREE and open to the public, and a great chance for fans to get to know the artists "up close and personal". Those wishing to enter the Talent or Songwriting Competition may do so through the website, with fantastic prizes and opportunities (radio airplay, album production, etc.) available for the winners. For more info, see http://www.kingcountryagapefest.com/ . Listen 24/7 to KNGR online at www.kingcountry.org.

Becky Wright is a Staff Missionary of Artists in Christian Testimony, International, with home offices in Brentwood, TN. She's recorded five albums, and is currently touring the USA speaking and singing for women's ministry events, and adoption/orphan and crisis pregnancy ministry events. She resides in northeastern Oklahoma with her husband and youngest 4 children (of nine), a Cocker Spaniel and a very old cat. www.beckywrightsongs.com