from armenia

I’m sitting on a sofa in Yerevan, Armenia sipping what I assume is mint tea and I’m beginning to doubt weather or not this Russian throat losenge will ease the pain of swallowing. But the apartment is quiet. Only the sounds of taxis honking outside and the muffled dispute happening in the apartment next door interrupt the peaceful Sabbath rest that my body needs. Daddy took Joy and Grace to church with friends that we’ve made since arriving and I know they’ll come back with enthusiastic stories of  “…and then the lady kissed both my cheeks!” or “…he gave me a candy and picked me up way over his head!” What Armenians lack in public infrastructure they make up for with physical affection.
Its been a whirlwind in our lives, these last couple of months, not to mention the tornado-like aftermath our apartment was left in. We were matched with a child on a Tuesday morning, then packed-up and left for Armenia 2 weeks later. We’ve been here for 7 weeks now.

The typical adoption process here in Armenia would be that parents come to meet the child, commit on paper, and then return to their home country to wait for a court date. They would then return a 2nd time to retrieve their child. We got a little crazy (and checked out some local prices of furnished apartments) and realized it is actually cheaper for us to come and stay here, rather than go back and forth 2 times. Not to mention the fact that we’d get to go to the orphanage every week-day to visit our daughter. So we decided to come and wait-it-out.

We’re now only waiting for our court date which should happen some time next week. We’ll be made “official guardians” of our 3rd daughter, Salvation! We’ll then travel to Tblisi, Georgia (a 4 hour car ride away) to get her Swiss visa because there isn’t a visa issuing Swiss consulate her in Armenia. It will be our first road trip as a family of five!

My husband’s boss (and dear family friend) was generous in allowing him to work from Armenia for the entire time that we are here. He works each day at a community work space while the girls and I go out learning about Armenian libraries, grocery stores, parks, and the 1 dollar ice rink!

My father, my husband’s father, and 3 of our best friends have all come to visit since we arrived, so the weeks have passed quickly. It is only now in the final days of our visit that a longing to return home is beginning to settle on all of us like dust. Salvation is still living at the orphanage, which has been bitter sweet. We hunger to have her with us, but in our daily orphanage visits we’ve gotten to know each worker by name and their work schedule. They ask us “why” often because they cannot fathom why on earth we would adopt a child with “problems.” But they also cry and hug us when we explain that God has so loved us and so we love in crazy ways. “Byoo-tee-ful,” they say.

It is difficult to go every day and leave her there again and again. But we have seen significant improvement in her awareness and responses to us, so we focus on the positive. On Friday she reached toward my husband from her crib when he arrived, and we’ve heard her laugh once! The orphanage fog is slowly lifting and we’re beginning to see who she is beneath it. 
A treasure I  have stored in my heart is how Joy and Grace have been so patient, respectful, loving, and understanding during this whole experience. When we go to the orphanage they are true sisters to Salvation; cuddling her, singing little songs, making her clap her hands — it is honey to my soul.  They play and interact with the other kids at the orphanage despite some strange orphanage smells, oddities of various disabilities, guttural noises and lack of language. With child-like love they accept each kid.  They’re learning incredible lessons and I’m humbled to witness it. While the school was not thrilled that they would be missing so many school days, our pastor advised us before leaving, “Don’t let their schooling get in the way of their education.” His wise words have proved to be more than good advise.
Though this has been an experience that we’ll treasure as a family forever, we are ready to have our girl, permanently, and get back to home-life in Switzerland. I have developed some sort of thorny throat-thing  that makes daily tasks uncomfortable. (To my mother reading this, I’ll go to the Canadian-run clinic if it worsens, I promise.)  Grace cries at least once a day from homesickness, yet Joy is thrilled by every, daily Armenian adventure. And though my husband is appreciative of the Eastern-style coffee sold on nearly every corner for a couple of dimes, his “coffee patience” is weak…like the strength of local coffee. We pray that the government will work quickly and efficiently so we can become legal guardians and move on to the next big adventure — like an international flight with 3 kids.


A couple of months ago my husband found out that his company had been buying aborted fetal tissue from Planned Parenthood through a procurement company in America, and using them for drug development. This stirred deeply in our hearts, guts, and soul. We are in the midst of a special needs adoption because we believe all life has value. How could we say with our mouths we believe in Life, but continue to work for a company profiting from the byproduct of death? We couldn’t. We knew in our hearts that he must quit his job. So he resigned. His co-workers were stunned, but most of them supported his decision; respecting his sincerity and his convictions. He was given the opportunity to speak with the CEO and CFO to present why he was resigning, but as I have jokingly said to him before, he is “just some guy in a tie” and they explained that while his convictions are honorable, the company will continue buying aborted babies. He has applied for many jobs and interviewed for a few, but as of today he hasn’t found a new job. He’s officially unemployed. And so we wait. Our greatest concern right now is how this unemployment will affect our adoption. We have savings, severance pay, and we have already raised the entire amount that we need to complete the adoption. But the control of if we can proceed as unemployed people in the adoption rests in the hands of our social worker. We’ll meet with her next week to explain our situation and see what she says.  The deep peace we feel and the continued joy we have in this uncertain time could only come from the Holy Spirit. We know God is good and God has a plan. We wait joyfully on His direction.

calm assurance

Here in Switzerland it is nearly midnight. I sit on the floor beside a twinkling Christmas tree, a few presents already wait beneath it. Only the muffled hiss of radiators warming the apartment and the gentle snores from my husband and 2 daughters can be heard from the next room. I wander through my thoughts and pray. I pray for our not-yet adopted daughter in Armenia. Is she sleeping? Is she warm? Did she laugh today? “Jesus send an angel to cradle her.” My mind wanders to the news of Aleppo, bombings continue, civilians killed, more orphans, more refugees. “Lord, the earth groans. People killing other people. How long, oh Lord? How long?” Tomorrow my daughter’s kindergarten is singing Christmas carols in the village square. I’ll have to be sure and lay out her tights to go under her jeans. It’ll be freezing. I think about how warm it probably is in my hometown in Texas, its even still daytime there. “God your world is so wide, and rich, and full, so broken, so hurting, so wasted. We’re full of love and full of hate.” I lay on my face and our rug smells like juice and I pray to God for mercy and grace. Intonations of thankfulness calm my spirit and I know… He holds the future.

i have one you can have.

This past Sunday at the church/cafe/refugee oasis that is across the street from our house, I handed out forks, spoons, cups of water, napkins, and big bowls of salad to each table; about 90 refugees this time, possibly more including all the kids running all over the place. Some refugees are thankful and enthusiastic, some are dazed and exhausted, some are impatient and greedy; all are hungry and weary. I had the privilege to meet an Iranian Christian refugee who recently fled ISIS and made the journey to Western Europe leaving his whole life behind, many of his loved ones dead or now dispersed.

When I met him he was jubilant to have just experienced his first western church service. He was beaming and grinning from ear to ear, his crystal blue eyes, (a surprisingly common eye color of many of the Syrian, Iranian, Afghani, and Iraqi refugees) piercing eyes that expressed how thankful he was for the food, the fellowship, the new jacket. But he said his one need was for a bible. He spoke perfect English in addition to his native Farsi.

The church had plenty of bibles in German and Arabic but none in English. “I have a bible in english you can have, I can run home and get it,” I said. “Oh no. No I cannot take your bible,” he pleaded. I assured him that we have more than one. I tried to count-up in my mind how many bibles we actually have; it’s easily more than two per member in our house and two of those members can’t even read yet. “Its ok! Don’t leave! I’ll go and get it.” I ran home grabbed one of our spares (eye-roll at myself and the ridiculousness of the thought of spare bibles just laying around my house as if I’ll get tired of the one and just use another. Not to mention the app on my phone that has literally every English translation of a bible there is.)

I ran back and handed it to him. He gently held the bible. He ran his fingers over the words “Holy Bible.” He turned the pages in gentle awe. Then he said, “This is the words of God. For us.” And smiled a huge smile at me. He asked me to write my name in it and the date. So I wrote To: his name, From: my name, and God Bless You, because every bible I’ve ever been given (again, eye-roll: graduations, birthdays, Christmases, etc seriously, tons of bibles, y’all) whoever gave it to me always wrote “God bless you.” He touched the words I had written and goes, “oh, God bless you as well.” And shook my hand firmly. It was as if I had given him a treasure.

I was immediately convicted. How flippant am I, how ungrateful? These ARE the words of God for us. He got it. He knew it. He saw people die for it. He ran for his life because of it. I later prayed, “Father forgive me. My comfort and affluence blind me to my daily need for the only true treasure of knowing You.”

Now I’ll keep all the extra bibles on hand…on purpose.

The refugees across the street.

We hung out with refugees from Iraq, Syria, and Afghanistan last Sunday after church and Ive thought of little else since that day. They were all such sweet, joyful people. Most of them touching our daughters’ blonde hair and kissing their cheeks. Each touching my arm or my hand as they told me stories of their walk, walk, boat, walk, truck, walk through war, poverty, cold, sea, storm, little food, darkness, and finally their arrival to Switzerland.

Little Ali, 10 years old, told me through broken english and Charades of how his family packed their things in a bag and walked from Iraq to a boat, even his little 2 year old brother “walk, walk, no sleep, no eat, walk, walk.” Then in a dramatic tale of hand gestures he explained how the boat tumped over and their bag floated away, his “mama cry, cry” and his father held tight to his 2 year old brother. My husband sat reading books to Ali and a few other boys, mostly 9 and 10 years old. They all kept a soft hand on each others’ shoulders or on my husbands knee as he taught them the names of farm animals in english. A syrian mom told me that her baby went days and days without milk or formula as they crossed Serbia with no food left until they finally arrived in Hungary where European Union funds provided food and clothing, but they continued on. A 9 year old boy told me his father was killed in Syria and gestured sleep and then toward heaven. A crowd of giggly, silly girls proudly showed me their new coats they had received from a clothing distribution center; each one beaming and gesturing what I assumed was snow. They haven’t seen it yet, but winter is coming.

Mothers and Fathers sat smiling, sipping “shay” which is hot tea in arabic, as their children ran around, happy to have activity other than simply waiting around at the refugee camp. Each of them were so thankful to have finally arrived in Switzerland and for any kindness and act of friendship shown to them. This is their home now. This is where they start over.

The church across the street from our house picks up bus load, after bus load of refugees from the camp and brings them to church for worship, songs, a hot lunch, and a small art project for the kids. They can help themselves to the clothing, jackets, and toys the church has on hand in a sort of garage-type store. The pastor and his wife are passionate about these displaced people. They love them, they pray for them, they feed them, they often times house them in the church building itself, they even employ them in the cafe that is linked to the church, as well as the school inside, where our daughter goes to pre-school. The majority of them speak arabic and some english. They’ll all begin to learn german soon, as they search for work, homes, and a new life here in Switzerland.

Because I am fascinated and in love with these people, I packed up my youngest daughter today and we walked about 30 minutes out to the camp. I had never been there before today, so I decided to go. People at every bench, railing, phone booth, fire hydrant, porch stoop, and windowsill were all sitting around waiting. Waiting on phone calls, waiting on papers, waiting on a word from home, waiting to learn a little more of life in Switzerland. Everyone waiting…but happy. I can’t explain how happy and glad they are. A kid was playing with a broken scooter and 6 adults sat smiling at him as he tried to make it roll. I said hello to a group of teenaged girls and they all said “heylo, thank you” and giggled. I handed out some oranges to little kids and I said “Marhabaan” which Ive learned is hello.
Its safe to say that our family will spend as many Sundays as we can, from now on serving and loving these people. I love them, I don’t even know them, and I love them.

I overheard my 4 year old explaining to her friend today that “a refugee is a person that had bad soldiers fighting bad soldiers and no good soldiers anywhere at their country, so they had to run away so they came to Switzerland because its good here.”

I have often said that the more you say yes to the Lord, the more adventures He sends you on. We began our adoption because of the Lord’s calling, and because of the adoption we had to move to this new apartment which happens to be across the street from Refugee Church Cafe and School. And wouldn’t you know it, one of the Iraqi families I met on Sunday had a precious little girl with Downs Syndome. I prayed silent prayers for her future as if she was my own child, as well as for the other sweet kids we’d met; Ali, Fatima, Hussein, and all their Mamas and Babas. I’m humbled and overwhelmed by the crazy things we stumble upon, but like I told the pastor’s wife, “Just come-up with stuff for us to do and we’ll keep saying yes!” Thats our life right now and its a beautiful adventure.

A home

We’re finally settling-in to a smooth rhythm here in our new apartment after a month of hustle and bustle. During our first week, we gathered pinecones from the back yard, it’s a shared garden space for all the apartment blocks that we are connected to, then we painted them bright colors, and Daddy wrote a note (in german) for all our neighbors saying who we are and that we hope to get to know everyone. ‎As it turns out, people love pinecones painted pink and turquoise! Every neighbor came to say hello, some even volunteered to share their laundry days with us! (we get one day to wash per week, so offering to share that one day is a big deal.) Word must have spread to the other buildings beside us that a new family had moved in, because a few days later we were playing in the garden and an older woman leans from her balcony and calls down, “Are you the new Americans here? My son lives in San Francisco! I’m sending him a picture of you!” (takes picture of us on her phone) Then, another time we were out in the garden we noticed a girl, teenaged, obviously special needs of some kind, rocking and kind-of moaning on her balcony. So the girls and I walk over and call to her, “Hello! What’s you name?” she didn’t answer but she smiled and rocked a bit faster, so we told her our names and waved. From the day I saw her I prayed, ” Oh Lord, I see what your up to around here. You’ve got all sorts of threads and weavings going on. Well, you brought us here, just show us what to do.” Later I made it a point to take the girls and walk to where she sits on the balcony to say stuff to her everytime we noticed that she was outside. Finally one afternoon her brother, also some sort of special needs, was on the balcony with her, he speaks english and he told us their parakeet is named Sam, they are half African and half swiss, and that his sister is Meredith and she likes to give high fives. (high fives Meredith to prove it) Sure enough, she grinned and stopped rocking or moaning to give a solid high-five. That night I was filled with gladness, we’d made friends with Max and Meredith, and Sam the bird, for the timing and nearness of this precious family just a few doors down from us, knowing God had placed them and us into just the right spot.

How much does it cost?

Yes, adoption is expensive. Some criticisms we have heard include “Isn’t that like buying a baby?” or “That’s so expensive, I wouldn’t want to pay into a corrupt system.”  It is costly, and on paper it basically is like buying a baby. The international systems are often times corrupted and the mountains of paper work are daunting. It is also important to remember that when God specifically calls you to adopt, the price is, in a way, part of the obedience. It is a sacrifice to save and restrict your spending for a few years in order that you can be obedient to God. But we are obeying. Similar to giving money to the poor, it’s not up to you if they misuse it and buy alcohol with it. God tells us to “give freely.” He did not say “give to the needy unless the needy person is gonna be wasteful and probably buy drugs, in which case, keep your 5 bucks and buy whatever stupid thing you want.” Nope. He just said give. So we give.  When God says “care for the widows and the orphans” he doesn’t say “Care for them when it’s cost efficient and when it’s most convenient for you.” No! Care for them despite the beuraucracy that you have to file and notarize your way through. Care for them, love them. So we do.

We have been saving for 2 years for this adoption. Right now we have saved up to about 5,000. We had also been planning to do some fund-raisers to scrounge up as much as we could. We aren’t rich folks around here. We were told the estimate in Switzerland for adoption was around 30,000. But we have never worried about the cost, not for an instant. We know and have known God would provide for any cost that we may not be able to meet ourselves. From the start of our marriage when I was working 2 jobs, as a waitress and in a clothing store, while my husband was in full/time school, God always provided. He used those times to teach us a lesson on how to live on less, and to appreciate simplicity. Money to us is a tool and nothing more. It can be used to glorify God, or it can be used to build yourself a nice little earthly treasure store that will rust, rot, wither, and fade…You pick.

We sat in our meeting at the agency (a 2 hour meeting entirely in French, mind you)  and by “agency” I mean, an older couple who live in the French alps and have 10 children, 6 of them were adopted and all 6 have varying degrees of special needs. This husband and wife are so passionate about giving life to special needs babies, that they began this agency out of their home in the mountains 25 years ago. (The husband also raises donkeys, fun fact.) So we’re sitting there with these two people who are, without a doubt, the most humble people I have ever met. They were utterly beaming peace and patience and kindness. It was incredible just to meet and to know them.

They explained all the ins and outs of the process, what our chances look like, more paperwork, etc, etc. and then we get to the business part. They said, “We want you to know, we never charge anyone. There is no fee.” (I’m sorry what now????) They don’t charge? NO filing fees, NO form fees, NO agency fees, NO translation fees, NO meeting fees, nothing! They are fully funded by outside donations, so ANY family willing enough to adopt a special needs child can do so through them FOR FREE. All this time we have been thinking this is all gonna cost us around 30,000 and we were just told free. Free! FREE! In that moment I felt somewhere between needing to sit down (but I already was) and complete numbness as if I was dreaming. My husband had to ask (in French) for them to say it again. Yep they really said free. The old man laughed. We laughed. My tears were streaming. We grabbed each others’ hands and were in awe.

Then, as if this wasn’t overwhelming enough, the agency folks said if all goes smoothly once our paperwork is complete, we should have our child home in about 7 months. Before Christmas we could get our new baby. The final bit of news that had tears streaming down my face was that, when we go get her, we get to bring our other 2 daughters with us! They’ll get to meet their new baby sister at the same time we do!

I don’t know if you’ve ever seen those African warriors that do that jumping up and down thing and holler “Le-le-le-le-le-le!!!” But that’s basically what we have been doing every day since we got overwhelmed with all this fantastic news.

When I say God is good, I mean…God is sooooo good. He is real. He is so near. He is whispering to you, “This way, this way. Follow me. Trust me. Obey me.” He has made each of us to glorify Him, you just have to say, “ok God, you can have it all. Take my whole life, I’ll do anything you ask me to.”

He is good

The day before yesterday we drove 3 hours, way up into the Swiss/French alps to meet with our adoption agency. Our poor oldest daughter, who vomits on any car ride longer than about 20 minutes, was a trooper. She held her little vomit cup the whole winding way til she finally fell asleep.
Aside from vomit, it was a beautiful trip; snow still on the mountains‎, an incredible lake edged with rocky cliffs. God’s handiwork was on display all around us. It is easy to look at His great, wide creation and marvel and think, “God is so big, how could He know me or care about me and my tiny life?” But oh, how he knows the tiniest details, more intricate than a spider’s web.
On this adoption journey we have been warned that we fall 200 francs below the recommended monthly income level for a family adopting a 3rd child. We’ve also been in need of a larger apartment before the child can be matched to us. Our constant prayer has been, “Lord we don’t need a dream home, we just need sufficient enough to make this social worker happy. We just need one more room so we can bring our girl home.” A few Sunday’s ago, a woman from our church told us of an unlisted apartment that was soon to be available. We called, and though it was one day past the last day for appli‎cations, the man kindly accepted our application anyway.
Now, back in November and December I kept having a dream of our family in a new apartment and in every dream the number 875 kept showing up. It was either the house address in my dream, or the street number, or a bus number. I told my husband, “I think this is significant, we should pay attention to this number for some reason.”‎ He kinda chuckled but by now he is no scoffer, “Ok, we’ll see what happens.”
Skip forward to 3 weeks ago. We applied for this already-too-late apartment, not knowing anything about it, having never seen it, only knowing that our friend said it was cheap and that it was one room bigger than the apartment we live in. ‎As we glanced through the contract I see in bold numbers 875 and I shreik, “What is this number??” Wouldn’t you know it, the new rent is 875. 875 would come out to about 200 francs less than what we pay right now for our house. 200 francs, as in 200 francs per month that we had been lacking. A few days later, on my birthday, the man called and said we had been picked!  And the floor plan of the house? It is almost identical to where we live now, but the hallway is longer and it has one additional bedroom, just enough to allow us to continue the adoption. “Lord we just need one more room” we prayed. And how about this, the family that currently lives in the apartment is moving out to build their own home, and my husband’s father is the foreman for their kitchen and bathroom construction.
How beautiful is God’s handiwork? From the massive Swiss alps to our need for a home; how great and mighty is He.
In moments when I begin to wonder, “Can we do it? Can we raise a 4 year old, a 2 year old, and a Down Syndrome newborn? Do we have what it takes?” ‎I immediately think, “Nope, we can’t. But God can. He has provided every need, He will teach me, God will.”

under His wings

I woke up on January 1st at 8:45am after having slept a solid 15 hours. All of us, even our 18 month old had slept all night and even then some. We’d arrived the afternoon before after 26 hours of travel; Texas to Switzerland. What a relief to be home. None of us had slept on the flight, and hardly any during our layover in Paris. All four of us were nearly catatonic by the time we got home to our cozy little apartment, our beds, our sounds and smells and toys. We arrived home, I think we ate, we bathed, put on our pi’s and went to bed before the sun went down. I suppose snow had fallen all night, because when I woke there was a silence — that soft, peaceful silence that follows a heavy snow. Even the foggy, greyish light coming through our windows was soft and quiet. Our youngest had slept in our bed, now she was nuzzled up under Daddy’s chin, both their mouths hung open and their heavy breathing reminded me of bears hibernating. I peeked out the curtains; no sounds, no movement outside. Maybe the whole city was sleeping. I turned the rusty knob to our radiator all the way up to 5 and put on my house boots. Our oldest was curled into a chilly ball so I straightened her legs and pulled the covers up over her, then went to make myself some tea. These quiet moments are rare, and I have a feeling will become even rarer in the months and years to come. “Good morning Lord,” my soul whispered as I looked out over the snowy cargo train loading docks that is our front yard. “I have loved this home. Thank you Lord. But help us find a new place soon, so we can welcome our new little girl.”

After a wonderful month of vacation in America, it was time to get back to life in Switzerland. We had more forms to write, more visits with our social worker, and clutter to de-clutter as we prepare to move…once we find a place.
We are eagerly awaiting the new life that our future holds. We have been told by our social worker that we need a bigger apartment before we can proceed with our adoption. We’ve also been told we fall “too near” the recommended income level for adopting a 3rd child in Switzerland. We have been questioned about our faith, our motives, about the “most unusual situation” that we are “on purpose” requesting a child with Down Syndrome, about “why we would adopt if we can have children of our own naturally.” And yet we are joyful, giddy in fact, knowing that God is weaving a tapestry of patience, wisdom, faith, love, and peace. How great is our God? So great.
A few days ago, sitting at a bus stop in the snow, with our 3 year old and almost 2 year old, freezing and singing “Only a boy named David” my husband and I realized, “How lucky are we? How Blessed! That we get called by God to do something that we already love to do. We love to be a family, we love kids, we love chaos. And God goes and says, “Love the unloved. Be a father to the fatherless. Children are a blessing. Care for the orphans.” And we said, “Yes. Yes of course.” Since the day that we began seeing ourselves and our lives, as not our own, but His to build, to use, and to fill, we have rested peacefully in the shadow of His great wings. We just keep saying “yes, Lord” and His work just becomes all the more beautiful.


Lately I have begun to see characteristics developing in each of my children that have given me pause for thought on God’s goodness and omniscience.

When we had our first daughter we gave her the middle name “Joy” because she was, at that moment, the greatest joy we had ever known. To our 2nd daughter we gave the middle name “Grace” because we couldn’t believe the grace we had been shown to be blessed as parents a second time. But yesterday a thought stood out so clearly and suddenly in my mind that I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it before. These two girls, and their already very distinct personalities, do not necessarily exude those attributes of joy and grace, but rather, these girls will need to pursue them.

Our oldest daughter (Joy) is introverted and sometimes shy. She thinks and thinks long and hard. She is troubled when things are wrong and it will weigh heavy on her heart. She is a wise soul, that little one, and I see now that there will be many times in her life when she will need joy. She will need her tank re-fueled by the Giver of all joy and peace.

Our 2nd daughter… Oh Lord, give her grace, and give it to her in abundance. She will test it, and try it, and try it again. She will need to be shown the grace of God that forgives…hopefully not 70 times 7 times, though. She is bold and determined, tough and stubborn. Doesn’t that sound like a good mix for an evangelist; fearless and covered in grace?

I pray that by having named them these names, that it will some how bring those attributes to them more swiftly in their moments of need, and that it will come in the over-flowing sort of way that only Christ can give it.

But even after that thought was yet another thought. The relationship between these two sweet sisters and the way they love each other is already one of the ways that they will be given and shown joy and grace. Grace brings joy to Joy everyday, and Joy shows so much grace to Grace all day. And isn’t God good in that! Isn’t His craftsmanship already seen, woven in beautiful detail through every fiber and thread of their lives? He knew, He knows, He made them that way. God is so good.

Colosians 2:2-3 “My goal is that they will be encouraged and knit together by strong ties of love. I want them to have full confidence because they have complete understanding of God’s plan, which is Christ himself. In Him lie hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.”
Deut 29:29 “The secret things belong to the Lord our God, but the things revealed belong to us and to our children forever, that we may follow all the words of this law.”