Kisses From Katie: A Story of Relentless Love and Redemption

by Katie J. Davis

  I marveled, not at the foster families or at my girls, who brought these children home so we could love them back to life and health, but at the God who is able to do immeasurably more than we could ever ask or imagine (see Ephesians 3:20).

  “More” was the theme of my life. Every day I went to the school to register more children who had joined our program, and every day I went to town to buy more school supplies for them. And every day I had the financial provision needed to care for the “more” lives God sent my way.

  Everything was growing at an astounding rate. Everything, that is, except our house. With the increase in the number of children in our sponsorship program, I simply could not continue to have the children spend the night on Fridays anymore. I had a four-bedroom house and ten children, plus Christine, myself, and our constant stream of guests. Trying to host 250 more people every weekend seemed impossible!

  So Friday night sleepovers came to an end and our ministry began hosting instead an all-day get-together for the children every Saturday. Early on Saturday mornings, children began to arrive, eager to receive their breakfast of porridge and a hard-boiled egg, which the girls and I distributed from our front porch. They played and waited for Raoul, a local minister with a gift for teaching the Bible and leading children in worship, to come lead Bible study. After that, and a lunch of rice, beans, and chicken (a treat!), the children sang, played, ran, and laughed for the rest of the day before heading back to their homes.

  During these days of such rapid growth and such busyness all around me, I was reminded of Paul’s words to the Corinthians:

  People are watching us as we stay at our post, alertly, unswervingly . . . in hard times, tough times, bad times; when we’re beaten up, jailed, and mobbed; working hard, working late, working without eating; with pure heart, clear head, steady hand; in gentleness, holiness, and honest love; when we’re telling the truth, and when God’s showing his power; when we’re doing our best setting things right; when we’re praised, and when we’re blamed; slandered, and honored; true to our word, though distrusted; ignored by the world, but recognized by God; terrifically alive, though rumored to be dead; beaten within an inch of our lives, but refusing to die; immersed in tears, yet always filled with deep joy; living on handouts, yet enriching many; having nothing, having it all. Dear, dear Corinthians, I can’t tell you how much I long for you to enter this wide-open, spacious life. We didn’t fence you in. The smallness you feel comes from within you. Your lives aren’t small, but you’re living them in a small way. I’m speaking as plainly as I can and with great affection. Open up your lives. Live openly and expansively! (2 Corinthians 6:10–13, THE MESSAGE)

  I want to give my life away for Christ. I want to exemplify Him in my every day. I want to live an open and expansive life, giving myself freely to all those around me for His glory. God answers this prayer every day of my life with new opportunities. I want to live openly and expansively, loving my neighbor as myself, until Jesus comes back.

  ONE DAY . . .

  Sunday, February 8, 2009

  God of the Impossible.

  This is my life. My real life. People say to me sometimes, “There’s no way that is real, right? You do know how to tell a story, though!” Let me tell you, as I fall onto my bed at the end of the night, I look up at the sky amazed and wonder, “No way is this real, right?” Yes. It is.

  Even those closest to me sometimes voice their disbelief: “How is that possible?!” Most of the time, I really don’t believe it either. Sometimes I pinch myself to make sure I am awake. I am. Yes, it is happening. Ten children, then seven who were abandoned. Then four burn victims. In the last three weeks we have added almost seventy-five children to our program. When I get ready to serve lunch, I have to take a new head count every day, just to make sure I have the number right. It’s happening.

  As I lay in bed in disbelief at the end of another beautifully exhausting day, I marveled with God at the “impossible” things that happen in my life. And I realized, when have you ever read a story of God’s great work that made a lot of sense, a story that didn’t seem a little over the top, a little impossible? Not often. Radical, extraordinary love just doesn’t make sense in a fallen world; that doesn’t mean it can’t happen. But it is the very nature of God.

  Moses parted the Red Sea, and I bet people thought, “No way this is happening!” Noah spent 120 years building an ark and I bet people thought he was crazy. When Joshua went to Jericho, God told him to march around the city once each day for six days and seven times on the seventh day with seven priests blowing trumpets made of rams’ horns. I bet Joshua didn’t think that made much sense. I bet Abraham didn’t think it made a whole lot of sense when God asked him to kill the son through whom He had promised to send nations. Jesus told His disciples to pass out five loaves of bread and two fishes to over five thousand people and I bet they looked at Him like He was crazy! Later, Jesus told Peter to walk to Him on the water through a storm and I know that Peter was afraid.

  We read these stories and think they are awesome examples of God’s amazing power and love and yet sometimes we don’t really believe they could still be possible. We think that maybe Moses, Abraham, Joshua, Noah, or the disciples had something we don’t. But I don’t think that is true; God is the same yesterday, today, and always. And we are all created in His image. This means that all these impossible things could just as easily happen for us too! Radical, different, extraordinary . . . They still exist!

  Here is the thing: I want big things from God. We want big things from God and then think it’s strange when He asks us to build an ark, or feed five thousand or march around a building for seven days with seven priests blowing trumpets made from rams’ horns. I am asking for big things from God. Big things like a van I can take my whole family to church in and a house with ten showers. Bigger things like 147 million orphaned children in the world to each have a mommy who knows what they like for dinner. So really, I am not surprised at the craziness of my life. Every morning, as I wake up with some impossible task in front of me, I know that God will meet it with impossible strength and love. I serve the God who used Moses, a murderer, to part the Red Sea; a God who let Peter, who would deny Him, walk on water. A God who looks at me, in all my fallen weakness and says, “You can do the impossible.”

  13

  AMAZING GRACE

  The theme of my life seemed to be “more.” God was expanding everything, including my family. Around February of 2009, about a year after Sumini had joined our family, her biological sister, Zuula, also came to live with us. The two sisters were delighted to be together again and stuck to each other’s side for days. Sumini’s prayer for months had been that she could live with her sister and I was once again blown away by God’s faithfulness to answer even the prayers of a five-year-old.

  Zuula is humble and gentle and gets along with everyone she meets. Her sweet spirit draws people to her instantly and enables her to form friendships effortlessly. She is a peacemaker in our home, floating between “groups” of sisters. Her eyes are patient and understanding. Because she is quiet, people often think she is timid, but she isn’t. She is courageous. She is so strong and such a protector of her little sisters. She is wise and has a deep gratitude many people could learn from.

  With Zuula’s addition to the family, I had eleven children. In my mind, that was enough. I would like to say I prayed fervently and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that God Himself had said, “That’s it, Katie. Eleven children for you and no more!” But He didn’t.

  I said it, to myself and to Him: “Enough, okay, God? No more kids. I am not taking any more kids!”

  I knew I had to be firm with myself about limiting the size of my family. After all, I had taken in eleven girls in a relatively short period of time and my soft heart longed for every child to experience the warmth of home and family, but I had to stop.

  My decision not to bring any more children into our home didn’t stop people from asking me to do so.
One elderly lady came to my house three or four times with her granddaughter tied to her back, having carried the child almost seven miles from her home to mine. This beautiful child was about two and a half years old and she could not walk, talk, or use her hands. Of course, I could easily see that the grandmother could barely care for herself. But I didn’t think I could care for the child either. I already had eleven children of my own and almost three hundred to care for in various ways as part of our sponsorship program; my life was far too full for a child with such significant physical needs.

  “I am maxed out,” I told myself. “I would have to be insane to take on a special-needs child as my twelfth daughter!”

  Every time the old grandmother came to visit and I declined to take the child from her, I gave her a bag of food and sent her on her way with the toddler on her back. But sometimes, after I sent them away, I couldn’t get the child’s little smile out of my head. Sometimes that little smile woke me up in the middle of the night.

  A few weeks passed and in the busyness of my life, I forgot about the little girl and her grandmother. About a month later, I couldn’t sleep. I knew God was trying to tell me something, but I couldn’t figure out what. I felt strongly prompted to pray for something very specific. That night and for several nights afterward, I found myself reaching for my Bible. Morning after morning, I awoke and was unable to leave my bed without reading pages and pages of God’s Word. Multiple times, I woke up in the middle of the night to pray. I normally pray quite frequently and sometimes pretty intensely, but this was different.

  Finally, on Sunday the Lord whispered through my spirit, much more clearly than I have ever felt Him speak in my life: “Your next child’s name is Sarah.”

  I was a bit confused. Back in August, the Lord brought me a beautiful daughter named Sarah. “Lord, I already have her—?” But as He does, He whispered again, “Your next child is Sarah.” Okay, Sarah. So, I began to pray for Sarah, wherever she was. I prayed and prayed. I dreamed of her; I longed for her; I missed her.

  After a few days, Tibita, a little girl in our program, came to my house with one side of her face swollen to double its size. She had an abscessed tooth and had perhaps suffered with it for days. I took her to the dentist’s office and made her some soup; she spent the rest of the day resting at our house. I sent one of our employees to Tibita’s grandmother’s house to tell her that she would spend the night with us so I could monitor her swollen cheek and help her rinse with salt water to prevent infection.

  I fell into bed that night, exhausted but not too tired to say, “Lord, this is Tibita. You said Sarah. Where is Sarah? Did I hear you wrong? Lord, you know what my heart can handle. Please know that my heart cannot handle knowing that there is a child out there who needs me to be her mom and not being able to help her. I believe you spoke, Father. If you need me to be Sarah’s mom, I need you to bring Sarah to my front door. Please.”

  I slept hard for the first time in days.

  At eight o’clock the next morning, I heard a knock at our gate. It was Tibita’s jja ja (grandmother), carrying Tibita’s little sister—the same grandmother and little girl I had been turning away from the gate. This time I took the little girl from her and smiled as she snuggled her head into my chest.

  She pleaded one more time for me to take her baby, insisting that the Lord kept prompting her to come here. I wondered. Could it be? I asked the grandmother, “What is her name?”

  “Sarah,” she replied.

  The grandmother struggled to kneel on the ground in front of me. “Please help me,” she begged. “I would never ask for this, but the Lord told me to get up and come here. He said you can help this child. She is two and a half years old and she has never walked. I don’t know what is wrong with her, but there is no money to visit the hospital. God keeps telling me to come here for help. You have done so much for Tibita and I do not want to ask for more, but please, help Sarah.”

  Right then and there, Sarah’s little hand grabbed hold of mine and she looked up at me and, in a soft, high-pitched voice, called me “Mama.” The grandmother looked as though she had seen a ghost. She was astonished because the child had hardly spoken before.

  I looked at her with wide eyes as we both began to laugh and cry, looking heavenward.

  I realized we were still standing in the driveway and asked the grandmother to please come inside, make herself at home, and stay for lunch. I needed to wait for my kids to come home because I never brought a new child into our home without first having a family meeting, where we prayed and talked about it. My precious children have never said no. They wanted this little Sarah, and of course Tibita too!

  Having recently experienced bringing Zuula into our family to join her biological sister, Sumini, I decided that yes, it was best to take both of them. After all, their grandmother was elderly, in poor health, and had been experiencing some chest pain. I remembered thinking when we went for their last home evaluation that soon we would need to look for a foster home for these sweet girls.

  It is an extraordinary feeling to pick up a precious child, bathe her in warm water for the first time, wash her little feet, wrap her in a snuggly towel, dress her, feed her, and cuddle her in your arms as you tell her, “You are mine. I am your Mommy. Forever.” I was reminded of 1 Samuel 1:26–28: “Yes, I am the woman who stood here praying to the Lord. I prayed for this child and the Lord has granted me what I asked. So now I will give (her) to the Lord, let Him be the Lord of (her) life.”

  As I carried my new little girl into the bedroom and put her in a new dress for the first time, fear overwhelmed me. What does one do with a child who may never walk? How would I keep a semblance of normal life for my other girls? Would I have time to continue loving them enough while caring for a special-needs little girl? Oh, what were people going to say?

  God simply whispered that His grace was going to allow me to raise this little girl, even after I had turned her away from my gate several times.

  Each time God brings a new daughter into my family, I am in awe that He would entrust me with such a blessing. Each time, I fall to my knees with tears of thankfulness. I cannot thank Him enough for my beautiful children.

  After such a remarkable experience with God and feeling Him speak Sarah’s name to me, we ended up needing to change it. When the girls and I had our family meeting about bringing Sarah and Tibita into the family, their only concern was that they already had a sister named Sarah, and Sarah herself was feeling a bit tentative about sharing her name. I told them at that time that once this new little sister was settled in our family, we would give her a new name. She soon became Grace, which fits her perfectly. The name seemed only fitting because of the grace God had shown me in bringing this wonderful little person into a home that I had declared full. His grace to overlook my silliness in thinking that I knew what to do and bless me with what He knew was best anyway. He promised that His grace was sufficient, that His grace would be enough to allow me to parent this child and my other children too.

  Her need for God’s gracious touch overwhelmed me at first but soon became something I simply accepted and learned to manage. I knew God was going to take care of the situation somehow. I didn’t know what He was going to do, but He had promised me that His grace would be sufficient and, day by day, I found that to be true.

  Tibita and Grace both brought new life and energy to our family. Tibita is tall and gangly with a huge grin and a huge, outgoing personality to match. She is very much her own person, sassy and hilarious, always having a great time and entertaining those around her but also helpful, outspoken, and both strong and strong-willed!

  Grace has a sly, infectious little smile that captures people’s hearts immediately. She is the most hilarious, imaginative child I have ever met. She loves deeply, never meets a stranger, and is quick to give hugs and the most perfect wonderful kisses (in abundance) to even her newest friends. She absolutely sparkles and is full of strength and grace and favor. She has a resilient qual
ity that will not be defeated.

  The day Tibita and Grace came to live with us, I immediately began praying for Grace’s legs. I wasn’t worried about them because my God is a healer and a protector, and I know how much He loves His children. My plan for Grace’s health and physical well-being was simply to pray for her first.

  I believe in miracles and mostly I believe in love, God’s love—big, extravagant, unconditional. His love moves mountains and changes the world, love that is freely given, that we may also freely give it to others. I wrote to friends and family all over the world and many believers joined our family in asking God to heal Grace.

  As much as I wanted God to simply reach down from heaven and do an instant miracle in Grace’s body, I knew I needed to start by using common sense and taking advantage of the medical resources available to us, even though they were somewhat limited. I took Grace to several doctors, all of whom said she had cerebral palsy, resulting from a lack of oxygen at birth. All agreed that while she could begin to speak at some point (she had continued to utter only one word, “Mommy”), she would never walk. One doctor told me with absolute confidence that she would one day be completely paralyzed and that process had already started in her legs.

  Having heard the doctors’ conclusions, I often felt overwhelmed with fear. Some days I felt such sorrow for Grace’s poor little body, other days I felt anger. I wondered what life would look like from that moment on. But God kept repeating: “My grace is sufficient.”