Pain

I'm in uncharted territory here. 

Pain.

That's not new.  but this kind is.  waves of it washing over me. 

I have spent hours in a basket with a pillow cradling my phone with tears of "I can't do this" streaming over the words of my heart.  I can't.  Truly; and I haven't. 

And that was just living with a child with Reactive Attachment Disorder (RADs).  My now 9 year old soon-to-be-if-I-can-survive-him son is like being water-boarded with bad behavior.   Everyone in the house is recoiling.  It's a different kind of discomfort.  The kind that is in your home from the time you wake up until the time you go to bed and follows everyone around.  The kind you can't run from (I've tried), pray away, or ignore.  It.sucks.  Living with a child so broken his only goal is to break you back.  Where does one draw the line?  I've drawn it a million times.  I simply cannot reconcile quitting on him. I am so thankful that the Bible outlines love as being long suffering, patient, kind.  Not warm and fuzzy feel good.  Love can suck sometimes.  Pretty sure it sucked being beaten, mocked, and nailed to a cross. 

sigh.

And then the phone rings.  It's the first night of my Hero's long awaited blissful vacation.  DHS has an almost 2 year old with allergies and a 5 year old with autism...could we take them?  I cradled the phone as I asked OA and was ready to not sleep from guilt over saying no when my Hero says, "Yes, how could we not?".

{Let's pause.  This is a man who is at wit's end with "the one" child's behavior who is about to start his vacation who said NEVER to adopting...much less...fostering...yeah...him!}

We scurry around...toddler proof the house...OA goes to the store and buys diapers and sippy cups and toys and what-ever-else kids love...oh...and a Thomas the Train...because he is that amazing (boy...autism...sigh).

When the workers finally got the kids to us I was completely disturbed by how horrific the baby's skin looked.  She looked like a burn victim due to her allergies.  And she was so tiny and still on a bottle and formula.   It was awful.  And then I met Spider-Man.  It was true love at first sight.  He has J-bob's old joy and enthusiasm  for life.  It instantly transported me back to when my babies were babies.  {My God...I would give anything for one day with each of them just one more time as babies.  sigh.}

He calls me Superwoman...and thinks I'm "awesome".  He and his sister have breathed so much love and joy and healing back into our home.  I asked my Hero why he thought it was so simple and easy with MORE and he said:  I think you've wanted a baby for so long...and now you have one...

My heart is in knots.  They had court today and have a family member willing to step up and watch them.  I met the mom and dad(s) today.  I hugged the mom.  I gave her my phone number.  I felt my heart wretch as we pulled away with her screaming baby in my van while she collapsed upon the steering wheel of her truck.

Why do parents have to make bad choices?  My 7 year old came to me with tears in her eyes and asked the same thing.

sigh sigh sigh SIGH


So I try to find my way around this new kind of pain.  I'm thinking much like running...I better learn to dance with it...make it count...because I cannot think of a better way to spend my tears than over the precious lives of children God loans to me.  Tonight, I am a family of 8.  Tomorrow...who knows...but as His mercy falls, I'll raise my hands to the God who gives...and takes away.

Dude.

It's about time for a really good funny one, don't 'cha think?

Problem is...I'm not laughing.  Today was awful.  I'm tempted to list off all the things that have made this last week and a half...heck...month so very difficult but I fear it would pull any and everyone considering adopting an older child away from doing so.

And the bottom line is that we are making head-way.  Which brings me to my issue.  Head lice.

Dude.

I pride myself on being one with body functions.  I have no problems admitting to perfect strangers that my tummy is not well yet my "turtles only swim in their home pond" if ya know what I mean?  And if you don't...well...I could go into great detail but I won't because I am discovering that MANY people are squeamish when it comes to poop.

{Boogers...now that's another story and if you've never listened to the lady on Google-definitions say it and define them with your children...well...you're just missing out!}

But head lice.  Can I just pause to say:  DUDE?!?!

Ugh.  So, my precious 13 year old informs me 4 weeks after living with us that she has lice.  Apparently the former foster Mom had treated several others but never her.  We would hope that our children would tell us that they had lice IMMEDIATELY, but I am thinking that she honestly may have been so worried about what we would think??  Who knows...all I know is that a few weeks ago at the end of the most INOPPORTUNE week, I was faced with one of my bigger fears:  microscopic bugs that flipping lay eggs like glue and multiply like gang busters???  Hello!!!!!  I immediately began washing everything in sight.  Even the one set of curtains in the house got washed.  I, the granola, even used chemicals...on almost everyone.  I was so tired that I passed the research baton to my dear OA (yes, you hear blame in my tone).  I was not told that after treating everyone twice and washing and spraying everything to INCLUDE the kitchen sink that I should check again within 10 days.  Because apparently if you miss one nit, the dadgum thing comes back to haunt you worse than any boy groaning "red rum, red rum" and Jack Nicholson's crazy face...really.

So last week was one of the single busiest weeks of my life.  And I'm a busy chic.  And just when I thought I could kick my feet up and rest...a tummy bug blows in and...yep...my youngest informs me that HER head has been itching...like for a WEEK!?!?

Surely nit...not.  UGH.  Insert the biggest DUDE ever.

Not a happy camper.  Homey isn't playing this time.  I have done my research and short of shaving the girls' heads...which I'm still considering...I have purchased every possible chemical on the market.  I'm a nit-picking-fool.  And I shudder every single time.

I am pretty sure that I was the epitome of exhaustion today.  I know that I was not fun-Mom.  And yet, tomorrow morning the sun is going to rise (ugh).  My children are going to greet me as if I were the most amazing Mama in the whole world. And His Mercies are new every single morning...whether I feel worthy or not.  So tomorrow I will find my do-over.  And I'll still have 222 loads of laundry to do and 2,222 nits to pick out, but I am praying that tomorrow I can choose joy and pause in the insanity and blast some silly music and dance around the house with my children (we will, of course, be spraying arousal cans full of chemicals...just in case).

And in the craziest of places...once again...I see His face.  And thank Him profusely for the gift of laughter because today we had none...and it was heinous.  I kid you nit. 

pain

Do you ever have something so heavy on your heart that your body literally begins to ache?  the all-over-i-think-i-have-the-flu kind?

That's where I am right.now.

I am on night three of fitful sleep.  We've entered this land called adoption, see, and it's a volatile place to be.  One minute consists of the most tender of break throughs and the next minute an emotional or behavioral bomb explodes and leaves me to gather all the pieces of fragmented moments and words.  I try to bandage all the bleeding feelings and pain and behaviors as quickly as possible, but it's not nearly as easy as in the examples given by experts in my books.

The thing about biological children is that you make all the mistakes before they are old enough to know or care...you've figured eachother's buttons out well enough to lovingly dance around the rough days (or you've earned the secure, healthy attachment that gives them this amazing ability to look right past and see the good-Mommy trapped within crazy-pms-tired-Mommy).

Adopted children?  Mine are 8 and 13.  There's no clouding over the bad-Mommy moments with them.  And then the guilt sets in because you think you owe them perfection...as if my perfect-Mommying could undo all the pain and lack of Mommying they've experienced prior to our home...how short-sighted I can be.

There's the ticking time bomb right there.  Before.  It's easy to forget there even was a before...those blessed moments when everyone feels intact...together...attached.  And then BAM...like autism slaps in the face...so are the realities that they've not always been there...and it physically begins to hurt.  Because nothing that I do now or any day hereafter can take away what they've experienced in the past. 

{Pausing a moment to praise God for redemption and restoration.  It only took me 34 years to comprehend the magnitude of those gifts.}

We got a letter in the mail today from the State Police.  They spelled the OA's name wrong and didn't bother to even have our correct address in the report...why I am surprised that they consider my children's "alleged" abuse "unfounded" is beside me?  I literally skipped a breath.  I shoulder the pain of all that letter represents to them across my entire body tonight.  And the boy...the precious one with autism who also lived in that home...I cannot stop seeing his big eyes looking into mine when he asked if he could come with us, too?

Ugh.  it's gut wrenching. 

Tonight it isn't enough to "save" two.  There are countless children in need of a forever home.  This has been the hardest thing we've ever done, but MY GOD, that we would do MORE HARD things in His precious protection and will.  May I never run from the uncomfortable again.  May this only be the beginning.  May He use our story to inspire more people to seek His will in adoption.  I was angry for a day or two because I wanted to adopt a baby but He gave me older children...how humbled...how wrong...how small I feel tonight. 

My babies sleep safely and contentedly in thier beds.  They giggled and played and read themselves to sleep.  My teenager prayed for the safety of her former foster brother...but even greater...she prayed for the heart of her former foster mother to be changed.  May I walk in her example of love and forgiveness.  And may that woman truly seek God's help and change her ways and may no other child ever be hurt in that home again. 

As I fight the urge to be cynical and quote facts about abusers...I cling to  Jesus's encouragement to be more like the children.  How precious and easy their faith seems.  How blessed and changed I am by my sweet, amazing 13 year old daughter.  Sigh...the kindof sigh...that hurts.

Here's my sign??

So, I must have a sign that is behind my back that others can read that I cannot see.  My entire life I have seemed to invite everyone's comments and thoughts and opinions into my world.  I do love people.  I do value differences.  I do struggle with boundaries and learning where and when and how to draw them.

It's been festering in me for a few years now, because I am learning that there is nothing "Godly" about me allowing people to sin against me and then causing me to sin against them in my anger and bitterness and resentment.  Now that I have 4 children to fight for Spiritually, mentally, physically, and educationally, etc...ly, I have not the time nor the energy to entertain or invite rude, even if well-intentioned, comments.


Us weirdos must stick together...in the name of Jesus.  Living IN the world but not OF the world gets exhausting.  It hurts to feel so weird all the time.  I even start to think I am wrong and feel my standards mentally slip until my Spirit snaps me back into focus. 

So here are my boundaries about some things that keep coming up causing me to be literally red in the cheeks hours later.  I am actually not even speaking this as much for me, as I am for the precious person(s) who may lack the INCREDIBLE support Soul-sisters that I have and is crying and feeling isolated and alone. 

Something I will never apologize or intentionally compromise on is living a life based on what God has called ME (aka MY values are not a judgement of YOUR values) to do.

My biological children have not suffered in vain through this process, rather they are learning what it TRULY looks and feels like (painful sometimes) to pick up the cross and follow Him.

Likewise, I will not pity my adopted children to the point of compromise.  They will survive being raised by a Mama who loves the Lord with all her heart, all her mind, and all her soul.  It will NOT kill them to be welcomed into a family who home schools, doesn't want their teenagers to have i-phones, and doesn't cater to material possessions ESP when that "idol" becomes more important than people (and you can be this way without wearing Mom-jeans and puff painted sweatshirts)...and being orphans of the state most their lives they have probably never had any one take the time to teach that GODLY value.

I truly appreciate all who have expressed concerns to any and all of the above in the last several months.  BUT, I'll raise my children the way God has called me.  It is tiring enough worrying about my own.  I have no idea how people find the time to "worry" about anyone else's...and if you have such vast amounts of time...there are millions of children without families in this world who would love to fill it!

Spontaneous birth

I think there is supposed to be a DHS adoption style part 2?  But it will have to be written by someone other than myself, because I doubt there's going to be much replication of our story.

After our home study was approved we jumped through what felt like about 1 million more hoops before we were given the blessed go-ahead to meet our children.  We were instructed to not bring the Ninja or Mermaid because the possibilities of the kid's reaction to their adoption news were endless.  It just so happened that the meeting was going to take place on OA's birthday.  It was to transpire at their therapist's office and beyond that, we had no idea what to expect.  We only knew that how the meeting went would determine the outcome for all future visits...no pressure...right?

I hardly remember any details about that drive...other than it seemed endless.  The kiddos were scheduled to be there half an hour before us so that the therapist could introduce our family's album and letter to them.  Plus, he wanted some time to run interference if they were upset (it is a total myth to think that every waiting child is elated with the idea of adoption...these children have been FORCED from their biological parent's lives and hurt by so many adults to include the system...why SHOULD they be excited?).  To our dismay, they arrived late and our precious son-to-be held the door open for us as we walked in.  We tried our best not to make eye contact and walked straight down the hall as if we were going somewhere else.  We hid in the bathrooms until enough time had passed for us to go inside.

I know exactly what they were wearing.  I know exactly where we were all sitting.  "T" (our 13 year old) wouldn't even make eye contact yet "J" (our 8 year old) was clutching our photo album and grinning from ear to ear saying how happy he was and when could he start Martial Arts?  My heart was pounding.  I could see OA's face registering unfamiliar territory and it made me talk faster and faster because he is our rock and if he is faltering then I'm surely going to sink us.  The therapist insisted that we go out of the sterile environment and get something to eat and meet back in an hour.

That was it...our big introduction.  And then we were alone just the 4 of us in our truck in the middle of a city we regularly get lost in trying to decide where to eat.  I immediately started asking questions trying to pull "T" out of her shell; I honestly have no idea which one it was, but she finally looked at me and started answering.  I can still hear the new-ness of their voices.  Hers so soft and tingly and his like melting wax.  My ears fell in love instantly.  "T" was like a fierce warrior...her face registers nothing unless she grants it permission.  Her brother is the exact opposite...his face is more animated than Saturday morning cartoons.  He cannot command a single part of his body to be still...the first few nights he even twitched in his sleep (I had to sleep on the floor beside his bed bc he was so scared...but that's jumping way ahead).

We decided on Chili's because that's the OA's territory and we got it to-go and went to the local book store.  "T" loves to read.  Right in the middle of the book store not even 20 minutes into our visit I stopped her and looked her straight in the eyes and asked, "What part about this adoption are you the most upset or scared about:  giving up your school and friends or the fear of getting hurt again?"  Right in the middle of the book store not even 20 minutes into our visit she looked me straight in the eyes and said, "I am NOT going to open myself up again to get hurt...I'm not going to let anyone in."  I took a deep breath and blinked back those very rebellious tears and replied, "I didn't have a very good childhood and one time Jon told me that I could push as hard as I wanted but he was not going anywhere...and he didn't...and if you would please...please...just give us one chance...I promise that we will fight with all we have and never give up on you."  Then the boys walked up and we just fell into position.  Like we had always had each other---yet for some reason had been separated for a while. 

When we got back to the therapist's office at some point the foster mom made a joke about the kids coming with us for the weekend.  We immediately jumped on the idea and said we'd been asking for that very thing all along.  The kids were begging in unison so the therapist pronounced it "divine intervention" and gave his blessings.  Several phone calls and details and car rides later, we were on our way home...with 4 children in our truck.  Happy birthday OA.

To say we were not prepared for them to come home with us is an understatement.  Oh how I took for granted the luxury of letting laundry pile up and letting the fridge grow empty.  I had planned to go grocery shopping while the OA took a nap when we got home...HA!  Instead we were scrambling around Wal-Mart for food.  "J" was a wild man.  I am used to children holding my hands and staying near...just because...not so for him.  He was off...like a light.  I cannot count on one hand how many times OA and I looked at each other and said, "oh great, we are going to lose him on our FIRST night together".  Of course, J-Bob was beside himself with worry.  I mean...a child who wanders off???  That's SO NOT COOL in his book.  "J" finally settled himself on the bottom of the cart with his legs stuck out and arms flung wide like superman.  Really, we were THAT family that night at Wal-Mart.

We got everyone fed and eventually in bed.  "J" was so terrified due to some horrible things he had been told.  Those details must wait.  But I eventually convinced him that those things would NEVER happen to him in our house, and I slept on our concrete floor by his bed.  I have never before in my life seen a child sleep like that.  He was even kicking the walls at some point in his sleep.  May God forgive me for the anger I still cling tightly to towards his former foster family.  Many things came out that weekend.  They explained so much of what we were seeing in "J"'s behavior.  The only words I can use to describe him are that he was like a caged wild animal who was finally let free.  {My God.  I pause to praise You for your incredible kindness and grace shown by giving us this precious child in need.}  Sigh.

The whole weekend is a blur.  I didn't sleep at all.  I couldn't even shower unless OA was readily available to be the "referee" in the event that the inevitable dispute would arise.  Sunday came along and it was time to pack bags and take them home.  "J" woke from a nightmare and told me he was very sad he had to go home.  I swore to him that I'd fight harder than I'd ever fought before to get him back with us as soon as possible.  His eyes flickered hope for one second and then fell dim.  My heart ripped in two.

I have failed to mention "T".  She was simply amazing.  I am quite sure that somehow she was born from us and sent somewhere else.  She was so open and so transparent.  There's so much I want to share but I feel like I need her permission.  The whole family fell instantly in love with her.  She didn't want to leave either, and I was shocked when she said she'd give up cheerleading and her school if she could just stay.  My heart ripped again.  How was I supposed to drive them home when they were already home???

This next part of the story is surreal.  It is probably one of the hardest and most horrible moments I have ever had to endure as a Mom.  "J" refused to get into the truck.  He was kicking and screaming and crying that he didn't want to leave us.  I was begging him to understand that we would see him next week (in the back of my mind I had already been formulating how badly I needed said week to game plan a survival guide for future weekends).  It was an infantile cry that broke my heart (again).  The whole family was crying except "T".  But she was trying to comfort her brother...a side she rarely shows.  It got so bad that we had to drop J-Bob and Mermaid off with a dear friend.  I called someone who, next to God, has played the single most pivotal role in our story.  She heard "J"'s cries and didn't stop making calls until she found someone who would listen.  And once someone realized he was safe...he gave them plenty of things to listen to.  There are a million details that simply cannot be shared.  But, I can say that God is bigger than I ever dreamed because we were able to turn that truck around and go pick up J and M and go home...all 6 of us.  And my heart babies are tucked snugly into their own beds as I type.

It hasn't been an easy few weeks. We haven't had a lot of "fun" moments.  It's been exhausting and excruciating.  Being a mother of 4 demands so much.  I miss my husband's arms.  I am having to share them with so many.  I think that's the part that's thrown me the most (that I don't like sharing him 24-7).  J-Bob and Mermaid have always been "Mama's kids"...but "T" is a "Daddy's girl" which is pushing Merci into becoming a "Daddy's girl" and Jaden is just floating along trying to make heads or tails of this brother whom doesn't understand rules.  "J" is going to be a "Mama's boy" through and through, and I rue the day anyone ever tries to hurt me.  I'm pretty sure he'd kill them...instantly.  His love is that fierce.  And that precious boy kept telling me how I needed to let HIM do things for ME because he owed it to me...sigh...I told him the only thing I want from him is good choices and for him to be a little boy...just be a child. 

So at the end of a couple of very hard days, I sit in humbled amazement.  That God would entrust my family with such a huge task.  That I would be blessed enough to be frustrated by my teenager's "attitude" and my boy's bickering.  Meanwhile, Mermaid is the blessed baby of the family who has somehow found herself in the perfect position to be loved and cherished by all...the constant calmer of the crazy people.  That I would crave my husband's arms...his attention and affection...blessed alone time.  I have been desperate and exhausted and angry and elated and frustrated and joyful...but I have never once felt empty.  God is my strength...my refuge...in Him do I trust.  Even when perspective alludes me...I can cling to His goodness...and rest in His mercies that are (oh thank You, God) new EVERY morning.

This is merely the beginning of our story.  I sit in eager anticipation to see what God will write tomorrow.  For tonight, I breathe in this moment of silence and kid breaths and thank Him for all He has done in our lives.  I have never known a thankfulness like I know in this very moment. 

The process...DCFS style..part one

I am sitting in my living room sipping coffee listening to nothing more than the air conditioning blow and the birds chirp outside my window.  No children to feed this morning (they are at my mom's), no husband to iron work clothes for (he is at a soft ball tournament), just the dogs, my coffee, my thoughts, and a really big grin on my face.

Today I ready our home for the monumental, frequently alluded to adoption-rite-of-passage:  the home study.

Most adoptions begin with the home study.  It's the foundation that all the rest of your paperwork builds upon.  It is the opportunity for licensed strangers to delve into your marriage, finances, childhood, parenting, education, home, sanity, etc.  It makes sense to begin with a home study because you cannot do anything until it has been completed and you have been deemed worthy of adopting (or fostering) a child...so I can finally put words to what has seemed so incredibly frustrating in our situation (which has by God's Grace moved much quicker than many in similar).

In our state, through the foster care system, the home study happens towards the end or more the middle of it all.  You better be firmly rooted in  knowing you're following God's will because when working with the state, you have ZERO luxuries...no sweet-voiced lady on the other end of the line walking you through the next step (I have had contact with two adoption agencies whose sweet-voiced ladies, in and of themselves and their heart's for God and orphans, have sold me on their agencies...my how I have longed for their calm reassurance, prayers, and willingness to share the next step)...no realization of what the "next step" even is.  You have no rites what-so-ever until...wait for it...you got it:  you pass your home study.

 {a tiny taste of what kids trapped in the foster care system go through every single day}

...sigh...

So what does this process look like?  I can share what it's looked like for us thus far.

We began by attending an informational meeting in which we were given "the packet" (remember the meeting we left swearing we'd NEVER EVER foster parent or go through DCFS because we REFUSED to work for the state??  Yeah, I think God laughed at us that night, too).  "The packet" was full of background check information, finger printing, and so on and so forth.  Once this gets mailed back to DCFS the wait-of-the-watched-phone begins.

We were called and told we couldn't go to training because our background checks had not cleared.  This training only happens once or twice a year and God had parted the Red Sea (first of many) in the OA's schedule and heart to allow us to attend.  At this point, I reminded God that none of this was of my will (note NEVER EVER above) and if it was TRULY His plan for us to foster-adopt through the state, He was going to have to handle all of the details for me because all of it was totally out of my control (first of many).  A few days before the training kicked off we were given a pass to attend with the promise that we'd be kicked out if our background checks came back with anything on them.  The social worker then came over and did an initial home inspection.

Two full weekends in June to total 30 hours of training with a 2 hour First Aid and CPR certification in between (OA and I missed our children so much that month) landed us with another "packet".  The first one paled in comparison to this...the red folder...in which financial statements, physical exams, dog exams and shots, kiddo's immunizations (another Red Sea parting for those who know my feelings on this issue), home and auto insurance, emergency plans, diagram of home, home work from training, proof of every imaginable thing under the sun went into this red folder.  It was a labor of love.  Again, all of this we did in between the two training weekends (I thought it HAD to be turned in last day of class..it doesn't...just FYI...so don't kill yourself trying).  The surrendering of the red folder that Monday after training ended was as bittersweet as finishing up a really, really, really long run.

An entire whole story has been written by God in between that day and today...one I cannot wait to slowly begin to share...one that it will take time to put human words to.  Man, when He shows off, He shows off big.  

If I only knew that day why God had so generously given me the energy, endurance, and urgency to surrender that folder so quickly...sigh...I can't imagine what that-day granola would've said to this-day granola.  I'm positive that she wouldn't for one second believe she was about to double her children, soon be raising a teenager, and have a love for two children that defies all logic because seeing as how her home study hasn't even occurred, she isn't allowed to know much more than what their faces look like on a heart gallery photolisting...a place that strangers can even see...knowledge that anyone can know.  Double sigh.  That tired granola who was driving their-then-car with no air conditioning was surrendering so much more than her family's red folder and heart work.  She was about to embark on one of the coolest journeys God has ever called her family.

And tomorrow...tomorrow...we have our home study!!

Jericho

One of my most favorite Bible guys is Joshua.  I think I have always cherished his bravery and courage and all the awesome words af such used with him: 
    
     Have I not commanded you?  Be strong and courageous.  Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged,
     for the LORD you God will be with you wherever you go.  Joshua 1:9

I love that when he went to spy out the Israelites' new land, he and Caleb were the ONLY two not terrified of the "giants" and tried to convince the others to not be afraid and to trust in their LORD--- the very LORD who parted the Red Sea and did so many other great miracles for them on a near daily basis.  It comes as no surprise me that he was the one God chose to have the Israelites walk around the whole city of Jericho 13 times. 

Last night we visited what I hope will be our new church family (we have been searching for such for 7 years).  With upcoming adoption of not one, but two children and not babies, but a teenager and a child in between my bio-children's ages, I have never been more certain in all my life that we need a like-minded body of believers to run to for accountability, edification, and prayer through this next season.  Just preparing these last few months with all the paperwork upon paperwork upon paperwork and readying our home (a major overhaul...I will have to post some before, during, after shots) for the what-seems-will-never-come-home-study (the watched pot never boils, right?) has brought me to worn-down places that only my children's toddler hoods and Autism have ever brought me...which...seems fitting because aren't the rough parts of pregnancy foreshadowing of the never-dreamed-of rough parts of parenthood that no amount of love, patience, books, and advice can prepare?

CHURCH...oh yeah...the guest speaker spoke of the destruction of Jericho and brought up MANY great points but the part that resonated with my soul and caused those rebellious tears to fall was his point on how if the Israelites would have thought, "we've done this for x amount of days now or x amount of circles now and nothing has happened...I'm not doing it anymore," then the walls (bc God gave them SPECIFIC instructions) would NOT have fallen down.  Let that sit with you for a moment.  When we disobey or give up after He has clearly given us an instruction...walls don't fall.  God can use someone (or something) else, clearly, but I don't ever want to miss out on what He has for those given walls on that given day.

I feel like I am marching around a city with my husband and two biological children that holds one room with my two heart children hidden inside.  A city that is about to be destroyed.  I'm sure the Israelites were focused on God's decree and that Jericho was their promised land, but they, at least some, had to also be focused on the promise they had made to Rahab about not harming anyone in her home lest their blood be on God's chosen people.  I am clinging to the time after time after time of God's incredible undeserved Grace being revealed in His word and through His promises.  I am quite sure had I been marching around that city, I'd have been chanting in my mind:  You parted the Red Sea; You can bring these walls down...You parted the Red Sea; You can bring these walls down, You parted...over and over and over again...just as I am today: You parted the Red Sea;You can bring my children to me faster than our broken state's department system allows...You parted the Red Sea; You can bring my children to me  faster than stacked paperwork or misplaced finger prints, or unhappy, unsaved.....one gets the idea.

So I try my best to not watch the pot.  And despite the fact that I feel an overwhelming sense of urgency to have these two children whose lives have already been knitted into our own, in my arms and under my protective care, I am continue to march on and constantly surrender the need to know what the next step will bring and chanting my mantra to Him..over and over and over.

All of this has painted such a beautiful picture of His adoption of us in my mind.  These children have no idea we exist.  They have no idea how hard we are already fighting for them on our knees and with our patience, our endurance, and our love for those who are proving difficult to love...people (and a system) they have had to be subjected to most of their lives.  They have no idea the hours I have spent researching different avenues for their future and how much sleep we've lost readying this home for their arrival...an arrival we anticipate with such tender joy and excitement.  An arrival they may fight, fear, or try to flee.  Oh how I do this to our Lord and Saviour.  He prepared the way before me (all of us)...before I ever even existed.  Why did it take so long for me to accept (not fear) His love?  How can I question a Love so Pure, so Sacrificial? 

May every time my children seek to reject me despite all I have and will always do for them be a gentle reminder of all the ways I have rejected Him despite all He has and will always do for me.  May it give me a Grace that is reflective of all the Grace I have been given.  May I continue to lay down my life and my needs (especially for control) in an act of blood-stained-sacrifice that pales in comparison to His blood-stained-sacrifice for me...for all of us.

May I always be strong and courageous, be not afraid,  and not become discouraged.  May I always focus my heart firmly on the promise that LORD my God will be with me wherever I go and may that be all the control I ever need to have til the day I stand (rather fall on my face) before Him.

 

God is moving...

One night long before we went to training, MY HUSBAND (the man who said we'd NEVER adopt...yeah...that one) prayed that God would soften our hearts toward His Complete Will, even if that meant adopting an older child. 

I have to be completely honest.  I dreamed of cloth diapering, wooden nesting blocks, making my own baby food, and enjoying all of the precious moments of infancy and toddler hood that autism robbed from my family.  I wasn't exactly sure if I wanted to throw my arms around this man's neck or strangle him.  He just opened THAT door...a door I had my foot lightly in front of...because...I wanted a baby.

Several weeks later during our 30 hour state training, that same man, MY HUSBAND (yes, still same the man who said we'd NEVER adopt) was whispering in my ear that he was thinking we needed to consider adopting kids aged 6-11.  I nodded my head in agreement and at the same time picked my jaw up off the floor and figured maybe he was actually SERIOUS about this??? 

At one point during above mentioned training in reference to a sibling group, I literally blurted out:  oh my goodness, please just give those precious babies to me?!?!?!  The trainer held my gaze for a moment, but I had a million reasons (fears/arguments/etc) why we couldn't actually adopt those specific kiddos.  The eldest child's age for one did not fit neatly into my Hero's 6-11 category...and a female???

Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

I have learned:  don't ask God to lead and then try to tell Him where that destination should be.  And can I just tell you how beautiful it is to walk in obedience behind Him?  All those fears that crippled us in the beginning have just melted away.  I can barely breathe with how much love I have for children I have never met and know almost nothing about.  It's so much like pregnancy...God starts them out as a tiny seed and they grow and grow and time, love, patience, and faith allows all that naturally follows to manifest into a beautiful relationship between parents and children.  They are born of His love spilling into our lives and the overflow from all that He is beckons us to so much more than we could ever hope for or imagine for ourselves.

My prayer is that in time (note all the waiting I have been lamenting...it's a never ending wait...adoption pregnancies) we will be introducing the newest members of our family.  I have no answers right now just faith, love, hope, a whole lot of thankfulness, and a stack of s-l-o-w-l-y learned patience.

 

Waiting

I'm knee deep in adoption books.  Reading about the "trials" of adopting an older child leave my mind spinning.  The OA and I looked at each other in the middle of our 30 hour training and literally thanked God for autism.  I cannot imagine a better boot camp for laying aside all parental expectations and living each moment both good and bad to it's fullest knowing that life is but a series of moments and as fast as one comes on it is soon to be replaced with another.

Since OA and I have decided to adopt, I have stress fractured my foot causing me to be still for over 6 weeks and then to take things VERY slowly as I regain my foot's strength, and I am now under the influence of 3 prescriptions for a wicked kidney infection that has stalled all of my plans to ready my home while I continue to wait for news or at least a call saying our Home Study can be scheduled.  I cannot decide if Satan is trying to bind that which God has planned for good OR if God is trying to bind my incessant need to know what's next and teach me once again to wait for His perfect timing.

And the series of moments continues.

How on earth do I sit still and wait patiently for children who have been waiting for only God knows how long to simply have a forever family?? 

With every second of the clock that ticks away, I feel like it's one more second that has gone by that I haven't been able to let them know that they are so loved and so desired and so being fought for (even if it is "only" on my knees through prayer).  That they have a Dad, a Mom, a brother, and a sister who cannot wait to share their lives and that from this day forward they will never ever have to do this life and it's endless series of moments alone again.  EVER.

I can't wait for them to build trust in us so that we can subsequently introduce them to their Real and Living Father...may they be able to see Him for who He really is...a God who promises GOOD even to THEM.  

So with every single ticking moment I surrender all my hope, fear, frustrations, and impatience to He who also promises to restore all that the locusts have devoured.  I know that my wait, the kind I can only do flat on my face, is not in vain because He is busy fighting the battles for our family.

How can my heart be so committed to something that it has never met or even knows about??

My only explanation is:  FAITH.  And my oh my have I learned so much about His Heart for His Children in this time of wait.

Sigh

This week's menu

So often I get asked:  so, what CAN you guys eat????  Today, I will attempt to give a snapshot of what our week's menu looks like. 

We are embarking on new territory:  a budget (beyond paper and in real practice).  An area that I can greatly contribute financially is in the grocery department.  Yes, healthy food is "expensive" if you compare it to a box of generic Mac & Cheese, but if you compare the nutrient density to the price (how much you are actually paying in regards to ACTUAL nutrients per calorie and not just fillers and/or empty..as in ZERO nutritional content...calories) you will find that healthy food is actually VERY affordable.  Since changing my family's diet four years ago, we have gone from seeing our family doctor monthly to annually, and truly several of those visits have only been for our "well child" updates.  Factor in co-payments and medication and all the other added expenses to being sick and it's easy to ascertain that eating healthy is one of the biggest bangs for one's bucks available.

I tend to gravitate towards favorite blogs of the moment.  Most of my meals this week revolve around one blog.  I am in love and adore the flexibility and flavor her recipes offer:  Against All Grain .

"cheese" chips...J ate about 8 of these!

Monday:  crock-pot-mexican-chicken-soup-with-cheddar-cheese-chips (I used Daiya's Pepper jack cheese shreds and they worked beautifully), black beans, and Spanish cauliflower "rice" (wasn't a huge fan)

Tuesday:  chili-lime-chicken-burgers (I am subbing turkey as that's what we have), corn on the cob, and leftover black beans

Wednesday:  Meatloaf, sweet potato french fries, and "fried" squash  (my own concoctions)

NOTE:  I am trying a very NEW recipe for Thursday and always try to ensure that I have a suitable "leftover" for J-Bob in case it's too much for his sensory issues.  We have come a long way and he will have to try at least 8 bites of our *new* thing, but it isn't enough to fill him up completely...babysteps...so proud of how far he's come!

Thursday:  chile-verde-chicken-enchiladas-scd-primal (this is my Hero's first day off in 7!!  Tonight will be a fun feast), more black beans, and a big green salad and probably a dessert of some sort.

Friday:  battered-gluten-free-chicken-strips (note this is a different blog...LOVE her, too), green beans, and another big green salad

NOTE:  I try to make sure I sandwich a very new recipe with two tried and true recipes so as not to create any unnecessary anxiety around dinner.  No reason to come this far only to be counter-productive.

Saturday:  Grill, grill, grill.  I HEART the grill.  I try to pile up plenty of meat and veggies for us to snack on, and on the weekends the kids each get to get a bag of chips of choice.

Sunday:  honestly, I am too fickle to plan THIS far. 

I usually try to hit Kroger's manager specials during J-bob's therapy to find Organic and/or humanely raised meat on sale.  If you notice, I am trying to have a type of bean several times a week in an effort to desensitize my family to the texture so that maybe in a few  years we can have several meatless days.  I am not against eating meat; we have come to appreciate all the nutrients it provides our hypoallergenic bodies.  I am against factory farming and the over-indulgent-over-consumption of meat...and I'm on a strict budget...which means this family better learn to like some beans, baby.  I wish I could mesh the awareness of Vegans with the awareness of the Paleo community in an effort to show that healthy diets lifestyles MUST involve fruits and veggies and unprocessed foods...the rest is just personal needs and preferences.

I keep our breakfast super easy.  I have found a Gluten-free bread, Rudi's, that is very good and reasonably priced.  The kiddos have a piece of toast and a glass of Bolthouse Farm's Green juice. 

I have a cup of coffee with a splash of So Delicious Coconut Creamer (french vanilla) and a banana.

We snack on fruit, almonds & raisins, and chocolate almond milk unless J-man has his chips still and then he enjoys chips and hummus (we add chili powder and cumin to make it taste more cheese dip-ish).  I also make smoothies and Popsicles and have organic suckers on hand. 

Our lunch is usually leftovers or a spinach salad with baby carrots, celery, and sweet potato french fries or a grilled "cheese" sandwich for the kids (we try to keep lunch veggie focused in an effort to get enough in our daily diet). 

Mermaid and I gladly ate this again for lunch!

I get a lot of personal emails and FB requests about how/where to start and what to eat; I hope this little snapshot into our week's menu has helped.  I try to remind everyone that it all starts with a first step.  I think we should all begin by simply adding our needed 8-10 glasses of water a day and slowly go from there..one meal, day, week, and year at a time.  Babysteps.

They that wait...

...shall go insane?

...shall grow impatient and take the "bull by the horns"

...shall fill their time with other distractions in an effort to make time pass more quickly

...shall renew their strength????

Really, waiting is supposed to be renewing?  What's the catch??

The other day the OA and I gathered up our sweet kiddos and our stack of DHS paperwork on his very first day off in many and very last day off for seven after...a now or never kind of mentality pushing us out the door.  I offered to continue to wait (they only do finger printing one day a week from 8am to noon) but his schedule has taken an off-road-crazy-kinda-turn and he felt if we waited again, it may never happen.

We went to two wrong places before locating the right place (County jail #2...yowza...note to self...don't bring kids with you to get your FP's taken) and then we didn't have exact change and subsequently had to go up the road to a gas station which (of course) we passed and had to turn around...feeling my pain yet?

Exhausted, angry, and completely void of all "warm & fuzzies" one would envision that a day of humbly following God's plan should provide (HA!), I looked at my Hero and said:  it sure is a lot more fun MAKING a baby than it is trying to foster or adopt one.

He only half chuckled...this was the third time we'd gotten into the truck already...and was not even close to being the last.

OA went in first.  I sat in the County jail's waiting room with my children and watched jaw-on-lap-eyes-wide-open as a man scraped an almost empty (yeah the glass was NOT half full that day) jar of peanut butter with a FORK????  His baby watched his father with the same expression as I.  Of course J-bob is allergic to peanuts and I didn't want the man to think me rude, but all I could think of was as many ways to put as much room in between my son and that man.  He finally put the jar away and I was able to relax enough to see him as a human.  I wondered who he was waiting for; I think it was the baby's Mom who was being released from jail.

After half an hour, the OA comes out and it's my turn to go back.  I couldn't take my cell phone.  I had to wait for what felt like FOREVER with absolutely nothing to do.  It's been 7 weeks since my last run (stress fracture and that's an important aside as any who know me well enough understands what running does for my mental well-being) and my "dream" of finally beginning the adoption process was being shattered by wrong turns, wrong change, fork-eaten-peanut-butter, and murmured discussion by the jail officers detailing the rape of an 87 year old woman.  I wanted to run on my broken foot through the shatter-proof windowed security locked doors and scream:  NEVER MIND...this isn't worth it.  It's already too painful.  I want my now-happy world where my worst fears for my children are food allergies, autism, and staying away from bullies on the playground.  I simply cannot do THIS.  So I prayed and confessed and waited some more.

Finally, I was escorted through more doors.  I had to walk on a certain side of a red line.  It was cold, bare, and eerily silent save the rape conversation still pulsing through my mind.  My officer was extremely serious and didn't even make eye contact.  After a few minutes, I managed to make her laugh.  I know she loves Coke and has a 15 month old.  I love watching someone go through the motions of their job and then the surprise on their face as I inevitably say something that disarms them...if even just for the moment.  A friend of mine calls it my "gift".   I think it's more of a curse...my constant weirdness spilling onto those around me allowing them to feel quite-comfortable as themselves knowing full well they are not as odd as I.  Either way, it's fun touching a life.  It makes that one eternal moment of waiting worth it when I finally get to connect again.  I'm so glad our God is a personal God.

It took us over an hour just to get our fingerprints made...a ten minute process at best.  We left there and got our paperwork notarized.  It all still sits on my counter...another day just to find an appropriate envelope and now two more has passed while I try to remember to copy the BACK of my husband's driver's license.  More waiting.

All of my urgency...my need to get things done...it's waiting, too.  My personality's biggest flaw (well, one of many) is rushing.  I realized about the time my children reached "childhood" stage that I desperately need to slow things down...breathe them in...because as soon as I exhale...it will all be passed.  I am learning the value of TODAY.  I don't want to miss out on a second of what is in front of me TODAY, who He wants me to love TODAY, what He wants me to learn TODAY...not one single bit.

There's a bit more to this story of waiting...some big decisions that have been made that I will share later...in the mean time...I must rest in the promise that "they who wait on the LORD shall renew their strength".  If I  only allow it to be so.

Isaiah 40:31

King James Version (KJV)

³¹ But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.

Quiet strength & family

My last post was about the bit of wisdom handed to my children during their belt promotion ceremony.  I couldn't wait to hear what my OA's words of wisdom would include.  It's a very interesting thing to hear a man's interpretation of another man; it is something I think more men need to experience more often.

Why it shocked me, I will never know.  Maybe because it's something that I feel every single day.  Something that I have written about and acknowledged and know in my inner most core to be every bit true:  quiet strength.  It almost felt odd to have it spoken in a room full of people.  Like a hidden treasure was being exposed for all to see.  Again, tears swelled high and threatened to spill over onto my cheeks.  And then another word family mentioned:  family...a man with quiet strength investing in his family.

That's my man.  That's what I have the privilege of seeing every single day.  I was watching him sleep the other evening, and I realized that he makes me want to be a better person, a better wife, a better mother, a better homemaker, a better home educator, just better.  I don't think that I have recognized that until recently.  My Hero has changed.  He's always been remarkable, but something still and small has overcome him.  He credits reading his Bible.  We both credit God.  I don't even hold my breath waiting in anxious anticipation for the good to disappear anymore.

My precious, amazing God---so overwhelmingly gracious to give me everything my heart could ask for and desire:  a man with a strength loud enough to calm my crazy ways yet soft enough to wait as my fragile and bruised heart mended and slowly exposed itself to his.  What a beautiful picture of His love for us.

Deep-thankful-sigh 

Patience

Tonight my children were promoted to yellow belts in their Martial Arts class.  It was a proud moment.  I am the ever present Mom in the corner pinching herself willing the tears NOT to flow...sheesh...such a SAP!?

Their "Master" gave them a little speech before tying their new belts on.


For my Mermaid, he spoke to her of bravery.  How she got to where she was because she chose to be brave and how she will get to where she wants to be in the future by continuing to be brave.  Such wise words; so applicable to my soft-spoken-don't-notice-me precious little girl who is blossoming into this soft-spoken-louder-YES SIRS-you-better-look-at-me-because-I-can-kick-hard brave and confident little girl. 

What Mama could resist moist cheeks watching her baby girl get her first yellow belt knowing the painful shyness and fear she had to overcome in just two short months!?

For my Ninja, he spoke to him of patience.  How J-bob trains so hard and is so immensely excited to get to the next level.  He spoke to him of his gift of seeing the future goal and not quitting until he reaches it, but he reminded him that with good goals comes much work requiring the ability to be patient...embrace and enjoy the "now".  (Yes, moist cheeks and the ability to not snot bubble in public is highly overrated).  I watched my son patiently listen to every word spoken until that blessed moment that the sacred yellow belt was tied around his waist.  I almost burst with thankfulness for how blessed we were to find such an amazing establishment. 

Signature sigh

As we got home and I rushed around to make dinner:  fish with green beans, apple slices, and a salad.  All those tears I had been holding back finally found their place on my face.

Patience.  If only I could explain to each person present tonight how patience has a whole new meaning in our family.  Patience is learning to how to speak so that "more than 50% of those with unfamiliar ears" can understand you.  Patience is looking to your mother to help you interpret yourself and the confusing world around your first 6 years of life.  Patience is learning to eat more than three things without extreme anxiety or aversion.  Patience is starting off by licking a chicken breast (totally worth the read) and having your Dad be so excited that he videos it and texts it to your Mom then 4 years later being able to negotiate 8 bites of fish and all the rest of your plate for television and doing so without a single tear.  Patience is waiting until you are almost 9 years old to finally do an extra curricular activity that doesn't include therapy while all your friends started soccer or baseball when they were 4 and 5.

Tonight my Ninja was just another boy in another belt tying ceremony who eagerly waited his very first accomplishment that didn't require anything more than working hard and listening.  And then he came home and ate just another healthy dinner and bargained just another hour of television with his mom.

Talk about enjoying the now. 

I celebrate that patience is his hardest virtue...I love that his eagerness and excitement that consume him are a combination of his Mama's passion and his Daddy's focus rolled into the fact that he has some serious catching up to do...he has waited this long...and has worked this hard...patience be damned...that boy's got some LIFE to LIVE.

Tonight was a great night.  I serve a great and mighty God who gives me exceedingly more than I could ever ask for or deserve.  And teaches me through my perfectly imperfect children how to be brave and be patient in these very early steps of our adoption journey.

Separation

I used to imagine every single awful thing I have ever done being mulled over by Jesus while he was being whipped and mocked.  I used to think that as He hung on the cross lists of sins would just ripple across his broken and bruised body.

I don't see that this year. 

This year I have, for the first time in my life, really slowed myself down to realize what was going on a few thousand years ago during these last several days.  I have tried to imagine being with him in the garden where he was so consumed with sorrow that he sweat drops of blood.  It's always been explained that those drops were because of my sin.  And I get that...but I think it was so much more.  He was about to be separated for the first time...from His Father.

Sin is separation from our Holy God.  Sin isn't "sin" because it's a list of bad things---a hierarchy of who is the holiest.  It is absence of Him.  And He is Love.  I am just now understanding a tiny fragment of this.  How much more did Jesus understand it all. 

He wasn't hanging there being shocked by all of humanity's specific sins over and over and over.  He was hanging there broken for us...and because of us...he was separated from Him.  Have you ever lost someone you love?  Death, divorce, abandonment?  It hurts.  It breaks.  Tears cried in those dark hours are so thick, so bitter that they cry out for themselves.

As I have begun to understand that all sin is merely (because we so often try to over-complicate this) yet profoundly (focusing on the lists and hierarchy causes us to keep our eyes on US as opposed to HIM) separation from our Holy Father, I understand even more what happened on that cross.  I cannot imagine being separated from my children.  For my precious son who truly knows very little of his own wrong to be ripped away and suffer because of other people's sin (our CONSTANT turning away from Him and to ourselves...chosen separation).  For him to think for one moment that I had abandoned him.  For him to call out my name and feel as if I had forsaken him.  I have no words fit for such sacrifice.

I only have a life, a life lived very imperfectly but made perfect by His blood.  I don't want to be separated, not even for a second, from our Lord and Savior.  May my life become a constant out-pouring of Him...more of Him...less of me.

Defender of the defenseless

My daughter is missing her top two front teeth.  Every parent out there can most likely relate to the absolute heart-stopping-adorableness this adds to one's child---every child.  She also has the kind of wavy bobbed hair that causes strangers to stop and tell her how cute it is.  She's intensely shy, so she never quite handles herself the same way with each compliment (I admire her humility).  She'd rather eat a worm than have people stop and stare at her.  The problem is that she possesses the kind of beauty that makes you pause-breathe it in.  There's something about her.  I have always struggled to define her...even she often cannot figure out what she wants or what she likes...much like her Mama...indecision...because every single angle has to be considered, mulled, weighed.  No choice is just a "simple choice".  It drives her Daddy insane.  He knows exactly what he wants at all times.  He never seems to question himself and is gifted with this remarkable ability to see all, do all, and decide all...AT ONE TIME.  It's truly an amazing thing to behold.

There's a steep looking rock wall of sorts by our house.  We pass it every time we go onto the interstate.  It snuggles up to this incredible hill that my old car struggles to chug up.  One day Mermaid said:  Someday, I am going to climb that hill.  It's probably gonna be hard, but I won't stop till I reach the top.

A smile rushed across my face.  I have the exact same feelings about the hill it befriends and my running.  And it was hard.  It was then that I realized that Mermaid's "word" per se is "DETERMINED".  A determined infant, and a determined toddler, and a determined preschooler are VERY difficult to raise.  A determined 7 year old?  Oh my.  It's heart-stopping.  Much like her toothless grin, adorable hair, breathless beauty.  She is also determined to rid the world of all social and moral injustice.  Today I told her that I was going to change her name to Merci, the defender of the defenseless.  Oh how fitting it would be. 

It terrifies me a little...her intensity-beauty-determination-protectiveness...all wrapped up in a giggling little girl with two top missing teeth.  Her Mama's indecisiveness and her Daddy's focused ability to get what he sets out to accomplish.  I marvel at the way God uses her already.  I celebrate the life He has blessed me with in my youngest...desperate to no longer be the youngest...and somehow managing by His Grace to pull that one off.

I am blessed to be the apple of her eye.  I pray that I never lose my status in her heart.  I ask God to defy all stereotypes of Mothers and Daughters.  In my life, I have never met one as unique as she.  She is, by far, one of my Hero and I's best accomplishments thus far...not to exclude her brother...whom I will save for tomorrow's post...and I am a better person because of them.

Wow and a rather long announcement

I have really been trying to figure out how to "announce" this.  It's so personal and yet so vital that others are apart of this journey as it's really a commandment for all of us in one way or another.  What on EARTH am I blathering on about now?  Dairy?  Red 40?  Autism?  Marriage?  The kids?

Well, yes.

And, no.

And everything in between.

The "wow" from my title comes from my re-reading an entry that I had written in June of 2009:  Foster parenting.  There are just so many reasons to "wow" the re-reading of my own prayers from the past.  It's been nearly THREE years since I posted that.  I attended the class.  I received tons of information in the mail--- many of which had pictures of adorable third-world country babies posted all over it to which my adorable kiddos would beg of me to please bring home.  It would nearly rip my heart into pieces.  I finally just stopped asking.  I even stopped praying for it (well...mostly), resolving myself to the fact that it was not my husband's desire. He is usually always right when it comes to big life decisions. 

Periodically he would come home and bring up having my tubal reversed so that we could try to have more children.  Something inside him was stirring.  I love how subtle God can be.

Fast forward to a few months ago.  I posted the post:  Ummm...wow...it's already been a YEAR?

Apparently, my Hero read my post.  Apparently, he started to really pray and ask God what His will was for our family.  Apparently, he started talking about it and asking questions at work.  Apparently, his heart was slowly changing.  Apparently, he called his parents to let them know we were considering and would be taking first steps...which was when I realized:  this is really happening.

I immediately removed any and all distractions from my life and began to pour myself into God's word and several recommended books.  I can't really explain the eerie transformation that has occurred within my family in this very short time (or shall I say over the last three years).  There's a newness...or rather...an old familiarity to God being the very center of our lives and it is an amazing place to be.

I still say bad words, I still have bad thoughts, I still cling to every single drop of precious blood that He shed for my daily sins...but...I also savor the redemption and restoration He promises and offers.

By no means do we think that our future will be easy.  Actually, we are quite aware of just how close to hell parenting can bring us.  My only explanation lies in one afternoon's and one evening's events and a heart desperate for wanting to do His will.  I was watching my Hero build a huge stick fort in our backyard with the kiddos. I couldn't shake the gnawing realization that what we have should be shared with those who have not (kind of freaked me out reading nearly the same thoughts penned 3 years ago); and in the wee hours of a few evenings later, my Hero echoed those exact sentiments (I had not shared those thoughts with him).  We realized that God had written the same thing across each of our hearts.  So whether we are crazy, or sane, or terrified, or ecstatic or all of them in one, we are taking the plunge into the world of foster-adoption.

"If God has been generous with you, he will expect you to serve him well.  But if he has been more than generous, he will expect you to serve him even better."   Luke 12:48 CEV

"If you try to save your life, you will lose it.  But if you give it up for me, you will surely find it."  Matthew 10:39 CEV

This moment...in words.

At this very moment:

• the drier is tumbling around its 4th load of clothes for the day
• the former 3 loads are folded and draped around our dining room table
• my children are tucked in their beds where they will sleep through the night (I am still not used to such spoiling)
• my husband is at work
• I am dreaming of flowers, plants, dirt, and my yard
• I pause to dream about the future color of my walls:  gray (my accent colors are yellow and red)...I cannot wait
• I breathe deeply and slowly, exhaling any worry that tries to overtake...something about the possibilities of our future has awakened all kinds of feelings and emotions
• I pause to breathe even deeper--- my effort to appreciate the unknown, to cherish this moment, to praise Him for all the changes and stirrings He has placed in my family's hearts, and to bow my head in unending thankfulness for all that He has done for us

I hope this moment finds you with peace, and protection, and eternal Love.

Buy flower bulbs for spring AND support a dear family's adoption efforts!

Lilies, Freesia, Dahlias, 

Peonies, Begonias, and MORE!

 Spring is here and that means time for planting! 

This year when you buy your flowers (bulbs), 

please consider supporting my dear friend's efforts 

to raise the funds necessary to adopt 

a precious child from Uganda. 

Furnell Family Adoption 

@ Flower Power

This is a great opportunity to be apart of something really big.  Thank you so much for your kind consideration!

Free Coffee!! {Giveaway!}

Free Coffee Giveaway @ Educating Mother

Just click on the educating mother button and leave a comment!

While you are there, feel free to check out how you can make your cup of coffee mean SO much more!

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 Calling all coffee drinkers....and everyone else too!

Your morning cup could mean SO much more!

~CoFfEe GiVeAwAy~

Coffee will be given away on March 29th!

2 a.m.

This family member has NEVER had sleep issues!

I awoke with a start from a very deep sleep.  A combination of added miles on my runs, Martial Arts classes (yes, to include myself..who can say "no" to the OA, the ninja, AND the mermaid??), the kid's school, and the gorgeous sunny weather we've been blessed with these last few days has had me crawling into bed without even the slightest consideration of needing to read or knit to calm my mind in preparation for my much coveted sleep.

Sleep.  I didn't sleep through the night with consistency until we moved to our newest location about a year and a half ago.  My Ninja was 7.  I do not exaggerate.  Sleeping issues were probably our hardest fought demons of autism...at least the lack thereof was of monumental consequence to the entire family...and by that I mean "Mommy" because I set the tone for the mornings and the tone was not always...beautiful...back in those days.

Speaking of newest location, for my readers who do not know, we moved over several hills and through some woods to a lively little college town to follow the Oversized Asian's job promotion.  It has been a whirlwind, and we moved twice in one year.  Our first move was to to a rented home which was lovely but plagued with carpet and no back yard.  Ahem, two dogs, two children, and a stack of allergies...one gets the picture...(and the picture wasn't pretty and was drawn daily in the carpet...ACK!).  Our second move was into our current home which we are purchasing.  The OA and I have already ripped up the majority of the carpet that creeped in the bedrooms which has left us walking on concrete that I envision painted a gorgeous white someday.  Always a work in progress...this thing called "home".

Sleep.  Something I've learned how to function with deep, short spurts of.  It's kind of fun succumbing to the odd hours of my occasional bouts of insomnia.  Tonight, or rather, this morning I felt the intense need to pray with sincerity over my family, my home, and another family, and their home.  For the possibilities and the protection and our peace.  And for sleep.

My favorite thing to do is to peer in on my children as they sleep.  Is there a more beautiful moment to quietly thank God for His undeserved blessings?

Ummm...wow...it's already been a YEAR??

I have so very much to catch everyone up on...but first I have to selfishly take this moment to pour out my heart, soul, and thoughts into the only place I could think of.

In true Granolachic fashion, I will begin somewhere, wind around to I'm-not-sure-where, and pray that it all ends nicely to anywhere He leads.

A passion for the fatherless began growing in my heart around the age of 4.  I have written previously of my prayers as a child, the innocent ones, begging the only-Father-I-knew to bring me a doll, and my Daddy, and for all the little children scared or sad to feel His hugs.

You don't out-grow that kind of passion...it out-grows you.

The problem is this passion grows from the intense understanding of pain, destruction, and fear.  It grows from survival.  It grows from an eclipsing desire to stand in front of any other child ever experiencing these unfair realities unleashed on them unexpectedly...their unjust reward for blind love and trust.  

I warned him, my Hero.  He asked the questions no other cared to ask before.  He climbed the walls no other dared to climb over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over again...seven times seventy...this amazing boy-man God shoved into my dreams, heart, and life.

I warned him again years later as I read a book that forever challenged my comfort:  Revolution in World Missions.  He grinned as he listened to me patiently explain to him how overly blessed we were (at this point I still didn't even understand my INTENSE fear of comfort...but this was a different kind of comfort I was fearing...this was "happiness" and "security" and "love").  But the seeds were planted...I wanted more...and by more I meant having less.

Can we adopt?

I bet my Hero has said, "no", "No", "NO", "maybe", "NO!", "maybe", "scale of 1 to 10...2", "there's no way", "how?", "WHY?", "maybe", "HELL NO", "scale of 1 to 10...6", and so on and so forth more times  and in more ways during our last twelve years together than I can recount.

But it won't go away.  This burning desire to be more, do more, help more. 

And then I read other books.  These books make it all seem so clear.  So simple.  Why on EARTH do we have so many exploited, starving, abandoned children on our hands???  Why isn't every single Jesus-loving-family doing something about this?

At the very least, why aren't we on our FACES before our CREATOR begging for change.

At the very most, why am I not on MY face begging MY creator for change. 

If I cannot even commit to their daily prayer, how less committed would I be to their daily care?

It must start with a heart change.

Which God has actually been working on for several years.  It's just taken several more for me to see it...it goes back to my motivation and fear of comfort.

Before I was afraid of comfort because I was terrified to open that very tightly sealed inner place in my heart...the one with the hideously ugly scar...the place that felt like it was protected...safe...secure.  God led me full circle in such a tender (though painful) journey that slowly pealed back years and years of scar tissue.  Suddenly, I wasn't that little girl rejecting happiness and love because I was afraid it would only be ripped away in punishment...I was a confident Woman, Mother, Wife...prepared to acknowledge that God does promise Good...even to Me...and out of complete and total surrender to Him...I was to surrender my fear of comfort...and to trust my Hero...believe that He was apart of the Good that God had Promised to Me.

I do still check to make sure my children are breathing and haven't died of SIDS (they are 7 & 8) during my final walk through their rooms each night (some fears are harder to surrender than others), and I always pause to take a last day's breath of Complete-and-Total-Humbled-Thankfulness of Him and His Merciful Blessings in my life.

But tonight as I read Kisses from Katie's book, I finally realized what it was that has been gnawing on me.  I am still afraid of Comfort.  But this time, by the Grace of God, it is not the wrong kind of comfort, rather it's the comfort of this world, my lifestyle, my excess...I still want less.

Yet, I want more for my family.  I always have, and it's not the kind of desires that are born of my own heart.  My heart is selfish, self-serving, and inconsistent.  These are desires that can only be born of Him.  I don't know what our future holds.  But I do know that for the first time in my life, I am praying from the redeemed, the restored, and the rejoicing inner-most-part of my heart.  The only fear that is left is the fear that I'll fail to express His Love and His Mercy to His People...but by His Grace...I believe...that He will use my family.

I texted my Hero the other day.  It read:  FYI, I don't know how, when, or whom...but I KNOW in my heart of hearts that there is a child out there...picked by God...for our family.

Tonight, I stand by that knowledge.  But I am not sure it will play out the way I've always thought it would.  I have no idea what He has planned.  I only know that I am ready to fall on my knees daily in search of that answer and hope that He will give my Hero a like mind, heart, and passion.

I share this mainly because I desperately needed to organize my thoughts, but I also would love to have your prayers...not just for my family that we would seek His Will but also that your hearts would be pricked.  That we would all offer up a daily, inward, outward, pleading and collective cry for the lost, the abandoned, the hurting, and the least of these.