Summer Moments

Sometimes you just know you are living out a moment that you will remember forever. In these moments I like to stop and smell the air, close my eyes and listen to the sounds and then open them to gaze at my surroundings. I have a horrible memory so if I don't slow down and take it all in the moment might slip past me.

Isaac's first night at the beach was one of these moments. After all the adventures of learning to trust me and splash bravely in the waves I got to watch my children from across the campfire as they gobbled down hot dogs and laughed with their friends. As the stars came out and the sky grew darker it was so entertaining to watch them dig holes in the sand and explore the beach in the darkness.

We had another great moment a few Friday's ago that still makes my face light up when I think back to it. We were over a friends house for bible study and it had grown very late. By the time the kids came out of the playroom to join the adults for dessert (blueberry cobbler...oh how I love summer!) it had grown dark outside. I had taken the kids outside on the deck for several reasons 1) they were being loud 2) blueberry cobbler is very messy and stains when spilled 3) Isaac did not want their large dog to share his dessert.

We all sat down on the deck steps making yummy sounds as we enjoyed this special treat. It wasn't until the last bite was safely in our tummies that we looked up and saw them...lightning bugs! Thankfully, I turned off all the mommy alarms in my head (it's very late, the kids are sticky and over tired, we have somewhere to be early tomorrow..) and we dove into the fun of trying to catch them.

For Isaac it went like this: He would see their glow and run as fast as he could toward the spot where he believed the bug to be. He would grab frantically at the air and then come running back to me with palms wide open to show me his bug (which was obviously not still in his hand) then he would pretend to eat the bug and spin in a circle in squeal with delight about how funny it was to "eat" them.

For Cara it went like this: She would creep slowly through the grass with her hands wide open trying to track where the last glow had come from. I would pass the ones I captured to Cara and she would stare in awe as it crawled around her hand. I watched her whisper to them and then watch as they took flight and began to glow again.

After we successfully chased all the lightning bugs out of our friends yard the game changed to "find mommy." I would sneak away in the dark and crouch down in the grass and wait for Isaac and Cara to come running and tackle me in the grass. After a big tickle fight I would sneak away to hide again. This came quickly turned into "chase mommy" and then "mommy run and hold Isaac" and then "spin until we are too dizzy to stand." By the time we joined the others back inside we were sweaty, overtired and full of giggles.

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We weren't sure what to expect when we took Isaac to see his first fireworks. 4th of July is a big tradition for my family. We always go to Aunt Joyce and Uncle Steve's because you can see the fireworks from their pool. Growing up there was always a large party with lots of guests, food and family fun. When Uncle Steve passed away a few years ago it left a void in our family that was always felt strongest on the 4th of July. We weren't sure if the tradition would continue but as next generation began to grown in our family we have all found our way back to Uncle Steve's pool for the fireworks.

This year the fireworks were accompanied by a soundtrack of little voices as the cousins experienced the bright colors together...

"wow, that was the biggest one."
"oooo, that was the loudest one."
"Mommy! Why fireworks in the pool?!"
"Mommy! Why oooo   ahhh?"
"I want to touch firework"

By the end of the fireworks all 4 of us were packed into one chair and shouting out as our favorite colors lit up the sky.

However, for me the best part was the ride home. Cara sweetly fell fast asleep but not Isaac. He went on for 45 min about "Purple! Yellow! Green" and how they were "Up high in the sky" and a million questions about "why go boom?", "Why so high" He recounted the night by saying "Mommy, Isaac 'ooooo' 'ahhh'" Then we laughed to ourselves as we heard sounds from the back seat as he tried to mimic the sounds the fireworks made. When we asked him if he liked the fireworks he shouted "Yeah!" and started over with "Purple! Yellow! Green!".... all I could do was smile.

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This was also a great first for my kids....

A rope swing! It is fun when they can experience firsts together. They took turns all night long saying "Daddy/Mommy push me higher!" It was wonderful to watch them as they learn to take risks and trust us with each push. It was also encouraging to watch them include one another..."Your turn!" I'll let the photos speak for themselves here.

That Could Have Gone Better

Do you ever have those moments as a parent where you are hearing yourself and you know what you are saying is ridiculous but out it comes anyway?

"No one can touch each other ever again for the rest of your lives?!"

"No more speaking! We are done with words for now."

"Once was an accident but TWICE is too much! Clean that up or you'll never have milk without a lid again!"

I wish I could say I made these up, but those sentences actually came out of my mouth this week. All the while I heard laughter in my own head and a sweet voice reminding me "what if my grace for you ran out after you made the same mistake twice?" or "What if you came to me with a problem and I declared that I had already dealt with enough problems that day?"

Thank goodness for my Heavenly Father who reminds me constantly how much I need his grace and how important it is to share his grace with others, especially my kids.

It took the entire 45 min ride to my parents house (where my kids were having dinner so I could take a break) for me to come up with a list of positive things that had happened that day. As soon as I opened the car door to the back seat I got down on my knees, looked my kids in the eyes and listed off all the moments that I was thankful for that day. I hugged them, told them I loved them and then sent them to go have fun with Poppy.

I came home, had ice cream for dinner and sat down take a breath and listen to God. My kids hadn't listened to me once the ENTIRE day and I was spent. I felt invisible, ignored and insignificant. I realized that I hadn't been good at listening today either. I could feel God tugging at my heart all day but I was too caught up in my own parenting to listen to my heavenly father offering me advice too.

Okay Lord, help me try again tomorrow...

June 19th

This morning I awoke with a heart that was overflowing with emotion and yet totally at peace. This date on the calendar marks many things for our family. To call today a celebration of what God has done is almost an understatement. I feel a little bit like an academy award winner when I say that "all of the glory goes to God." That statement can be shared in a flippant way like "God bless you" or "I'll pray for you" but in this case the truth behind it simply cannot be ignored. ALL OF THE GLORY GOES TO GOD!

For those of you that own a copy of Jesus Calling, get it out and read the entry for June 19th (for those of you that don't own this devotional, go buy it! Mine is 8 years old and I keep going back to it). The title for today is "I Am The Firm Foundation." This could not be more true for Bill and I.

So what exactly are we giving him credit for? Everything!

10 years ago today, I married the most incredible friend I have ever had. In our ceremony the first thing we did after being pronounced husband and wife was not "kiss the bride." We stepped away from our ceremony and while a good friend sang beautifully to the audience Bill and I snuck away to pray thank God as our very first act as husband and wife. He is our foundation. It wasn't this act or anything else that we have done that has kept us together this long. My goodness, if it were up to us we would have messed this up long ago. We have had to fight hard against distractions, traditions and expectations to keep our eyes fixed on God and not our family, our jobs, our kids or each other. Following God with abandon has led us to this day and we are so thankful!

6 months ago today, our phone rang and then a big black van drove through the gates of African Village and officially brought Isaac home into our family. If you have read any of this blog you know that God's hands have been at work in every step of this victory for our family.

(see facebook for video)

6 months ago today was also Cara's 5th birthday and her wish of being a big sister finally came true.

Today marks Cara's last day of preschool. I cannot even begin to say what a faith step this was for us. We lost our referral for Simon on her first day of preschool in 2013. Everything in my broken heart wanted to drive back to Cara's school, snatch her up and never let go. I couldn't loose both my babies in one day (and for this emotional mommy, it felt that way). I had to trust that we had followed God and made the right decision by enrolling her at age 3. It felt too soon but God knew the timing was right. He had put her in Miss Vaughn's class and he intended for her to bloom there and she absolutely has. We could not be more thankful for all of the ways Cara has grown as a result of her time in preschool.

Today's devotion also had this incredible truth "Give up striving to keep everything under control--an impossible task and a wast of precious energy." I am so thankful for this message. As we enter yet another season of unknown(s) for our family it has been incredible to look back at all we have to be thankful for and also reminded that none of it was because of my/our control. Almost the opposite really, it is time times we have let go and trusted that we have been the most blessed.

The Next Unknown

The next Unknown

I just finished a beautiful devotion in a book designed for Moms who have said yes to the Fatherless. It was given to me by a mom who is a few years ahead of me in this process and I am very grateful to have words written that speak directly to this unique and perplex season I am in.

Tonights words spoke of the beautiful moment when you finally get to hold the child you have longed for, prayed for and sacrificed for. Both of your eyes fill with tears but for entirely different reasons. This picture of Isaac and I shows the moment well. I am so overwhelmed with the flood of love and emotions that have been contained for far too long and Isaac is cold and afraid. He doesn’t trust me…yet.

 If I think about the times that God has patiently waited, overflowing with love just waiting for me to trust him and yet I hit the snooze button and make him wait…again. Oh the unbearable season of waiting!  When I think about all that he sacrificed and the depth of love that would bring him to do that, it humbles me. God thinks I am worth it, even when I stand there numb and afraid of the next step. Even when I am so confused by my circumstances I barely remember He is there just waiting to love me. Yet, He waits some more and sacrifices some more because he knows that one day I’ll trust him. I will take his hand and follow him into the next unknown because I have learned that as long as He is guiding me, I will make it through.

Isaac and I recently had that moment. We took him to the beach for the first time. He was utterly confused by what we were describing to him. He could not understand why he was in his swimsuit but we were NOT going to a pool. He never considered there might be somewhere else to swim? How could he know? He was perplexed as he stepped on the sand and the ground underneath him moved. What was this squishy ground that looked like snow (which is what he called it at first) but wasn’t cold? Then Isaac saw the ocean itself and he no longer cared if the ground gave way underneath his weight or not, he just had to get to the water…(then he was momentarily distracted by the cars on the beach, don’t we all have things that appear to distract us right after we’ve had a break through?!)

 Once he finally arrived, Isaac had a love/hate relationship with the water. If he was holding my hand he was thrilled and never wanted to leave the endless splashing. “No bye, bye Mommy, No bye bye!” However, in the moments where he let go or attempted to enter the water alone he would fall and the waves would get deeper than he expected. What once felt safe suddenly was terrifying and he screamed as if the world was ending! That is until he looked up and took my hand. Instantly he would smile and pull me to go just a little father. He could do anything as long as he was holding my hand. He trusted me to get him through this next unknown and I was more than happy to never let go.

 

God is Not Like Mommy

As we manage to get out of the house more and more I have been so humbled by the number of people that ask me about this blog.  So many of you have read it faithfully and already feel like you know our sweet boy in a personal way. I could not be more thankful for all of your prayers and kind words. Many of you have encouraged me to keep writing, so here goes…

The days are so real now and they come one right after another like endless waves on the ocean shore. The waiting was hard, oh so very hard and God used it to break me, build me and strengthen my resolve. He used it to clarify and solidify this irreversible decision for our family. However, I realize now that even the unbearable season of waiting was just a baby step in a huge process of growth for me. It’s similar to the college experience in a way.  It was such an intense time of growing up for me. While I was going through it I felt overwhelmed at times and seemed to barely survive the roommates and the finals, but after I entered the “real world”, post degree, I suddenly realized that I had more free time in college than I would ever have again in my lifetime.

Perhaps it’s not the best analogy but it makes sense to me. You see college is hard and there are moments that stretched me further than I’d ever been stretched before. In fact there were times in the semester when it was the hardest thing I’d ever had to face…yet.

My “yet” is now changing for me on a daily basis. Sometimes I’ve barely had time to process the last “yet” moment and I find myself face to face with something even harder. The NEW hardest thing I’ve ever had to face.

I wish that I could say that I have always gotten it right. I wish I could say that I have remained in perfect peace like it says in Isaiah 26:3. The truth is that I have failed a lot. All the training and seminars in the world cannot prepare you for what it is like to love a complete stranger as if they were never a stranger at all. It is a beautiful mess of miracles and meltdowns.

Oh my sweet, sweet children. Please know that everyday Mommy does her best to love you unconditionally. Please know that even when I fail, God will never fail you.

I am so thankful for the grace that comes new with every morning (or every meltdown – mine or theirs). I know that even on the days I yell or lose my patience quicker than I would like, I am forgiven. It doesn’t change the wrong I have done but it does give me the chance to go to my kids with a humble heart and ask for a chance to try again tomorrow.

I confess that there are days when I discipline out of anger or exhaustion. When I hear the words coming out of my mouth (or the tone with which I am saying them) and somehow wish I could stop myself from saying another word. I send them into time out because we all need space and my heart races as I think “How did I get to this place again?”  I call it “scary mommy.” Sometimes I wonder if labeling it was a bad idea but at least it will give the kids something to tell their therapist one day. I choose that title because I saw it one day in their faces. Mommy needed a time out (which I took) and I would calmly come back and ask for their forgiveness, but I had scared them. I yelled louder than necessary. The moments and days that followed were a strange mix of beautiful intimate moments and times when the kids walked on egg shells around me. It killed me inside to know that I had to earn their trust again.

Everyday I learn how to love them a little better. I know which child needs a gentle word and which needs firm boundaries. I remind myself that setbacks are to be expected and no to take rejection personally. I celebrate small victories like the fact that Isaac can finally say “bus” with an “s” sound instead of a “t” sound. It always made us laugh but it made for awkward public moments when Isaac would excitedly shout “Mommy cool butt” instead of “Mommy, look a school Bus.”

I am also learning how to love myself better. I am learning when to let the guilt and shame go and simply ask my kids for a fresh start. I am learning how to ask for help and when to take a break. I am learning that saying “no” to opportunities is a good thing for our family right now and that it is okay to hang back and let someone else meet the needs in our community for a while. My world has both increased immensely and shrunk down all at the same time. Mommy means a lot more than it did just 5 months ago.

As often as I can remember I try to see the events of my day through a new filter that helps me see the triggers and the fears behind the behaviors. I offer "redo's" instead of a constant stream of "time out."

I am once again being stretched father than I ever thought possible. I look back on the rollercoaster of waiting and I think at least there were moments to regroup before the next wave hit... but mostly I find myself thankful (exhausted but thankful). Thankful for family and friends for facebook and Fridays. I am thankful for every smile and fresh start.

Thank you to everyone that asks how we are doing and waits to hear the stories, good & bad. I'll do my best to keep this window into our life open. I'm learning a lot and maybe someone else will benefit from my mistakes and victories.

 

 

 

 

In The Middle of My Marathon

We are quickly approaching the 5 month anniversary of meeting our sweet boy for the first time. As I prepare for mothers day this year I am a hot mess of emotions. For a long time now I have been trying to find a way to put it all into words or explain it in a way that might make sense to those around me. Then today as I crawled into bed for a moments rest it hit me that I am 5 months into the longest marathon of my life. I am not a "real" runner. I exercise on my treadmill while using netflix as a distraction so I apologize if this metaphor doesn't quite measure up but here goes...

Marathons are hard. You know they are going to be hard, that's why you train. However, training doesn't make them any less hard, it just gives you the skills, tools, strength and endurance you need to keep going and finish the race. I don't think anyone just magically floats through a marathon. Some of us make it look easier than others, but we all sweat.

There are all kinds of moments along the way while you are running. Some of them are beautiful. Moments when you get to encourage another runner, sometimes there is beautiful scenery along the way (if you can keep your breath long enough to look up and notice) and there are times when you just feel in sync with what is happening and all the training seems to have paid off. There are check points along the way, moments when you need to re-hydrate, pace yourself and refocus on how much race is left. Then there are moments when you have to push past the hard and somehow find a way to keep going. The further into the marathon you get the harder it gets to push past the difficult moments. Just when you thought you were through the hardest part you turn a corner and realize it's another uphill climb.

In my marathon there seem to be loops. Times when I say to myself "I'm pretty sure we just went through this, why are we here again?"

I see pictures online of friends who have finished their marathons and the stand holding their medals with hug smiles on their face. I know a lot of runners who keep their bibs as a record of the races they have one. It is a way to look back and say "I did that!"

Today I had to realize that I am still in the race. I am sure there were moments along the way when those smiling faces standing with their finish line medals were a little less smiley. There may have even been moments when they thought they weren't going to make it.

The marathon of being an adoptive family is long and tiring. It is filled with beautiful moments, like this past week when Isaac started understanding and using family words like "brother", "son", and "sister." Or when the house is filled with the sounds of my kids making each other laugh. However, I need to confess that I am struggling. The other night the kids were taking turns jumping off the back of the couch. It was priceless to hear Isaac try and count along with his sister. "One, two, three, two, nine, ten..bump!" (he's working on it). I thought to myself this is absolutely adorable, cherish this moment but I knew the look on my face only showed how tired I was, no matter how hard I tried to smile anyway.

Later that night as Cara was awake frightened by bad dreams and Isaac cried in the other room because he was congested and "ti-word" I thought to myself. "Why on earth did we let them stay up jumping on the couch? Now they are all riled up and it's nearly 10pm and we can't get them to sleep!" I was so angry. Not at them, but at the marathon. We were all exhausted. It just didn't seem fair. I let that same beautiful moment fuel my anger that what I needed was rest and what I was faced with was an even steeper uphill climb. Yet another difficult leg in my marathon.

In the end we got it all done. I laid and prayed with Cara about the unsettled feeling she had in her heart that was keeping her awake. I rubbed her back and stayed with her until she was in a deep sleep. An hour later as Bill was leaving Isaac's room for the tenth time that night I crawled in bed beside Isaac, too. He resisted at first because he too was angry that he couldn't sleep, but in the end he rested his head on my chest and said "Mommy rub" as I stroked his back. A half hour later he too was sleeping deeply. I tried to cherish his sweet head on my chest as I kissed him goodnight and crept back down the hall to my own bed.

The next morning I woke up early to pee and decided to spend some time with God. As I read the promises in Isaiah 40 for probably the 500th time I asked God to once again restore my weary heart so I could make it through another day. Instead I was met with stomach troubles and spent the morning face down on the powder room floor. As the last wave of sickness passed I looked up to see Cara standing outside the door wanting breakfast. "Really God?! Didn't I just tell you how weary I am?" So I poured the cereal and whisked the eggs and began another day. I pushed through the hard because my marathon isn't over.

We knew this would be hard, but just because we knew what to expect doesn't make it less hard. It's HARD!

It is hard when your son wakes up at 6am screaming and refuses to let you comfort him.
It is hard when he doesn't have the words to express the emotions that are raging inside him.
It is hard when a simple change in routine means having to explain the new plan 30 times in 10 min.
It is hard when you are parenting a child from a hard place who sees the world through a lens of fear.
It is hard when running late sets off triggers that only make you more late.

I could write you a list that would send even the most experienced parent running in the other direction. However, please know I am not complaining. Becoming an adoptive family has challenged us in ways I expected and ways I didn't expect. Each of us is being stretched in ways that will make us better. We are learning that together we can run farther and longer than we expected. We are learning that God meets you over quiet moments with coffee and when you are face down on the bathroom floor. We are learning how to live with less but how to love more. Nothing about this is BAD but it is very hard.

One of my favorite parts about marathons are the people along the sidelines. They are holding signs and stand in all kinds of weather to cheer on their loved ones for the brief moment that they pass them by. They are cheering and yelling and waiting anxiously for the moment when they can hug their loved one and say "you did it!"

Please know that this is very humbling to ask this, but I could really use an active cheering section.  It makes me feel weak and selfish to put it out there, but I have to believe that is a lie designed to keep me silent so I'll eventually give up. I am used to being the one that bakes the cookies and writes the notes. It is hard for me to admit that the hard days have left me feeling weary. Many of you have already come along side us in so many ways in this journey and I am forever grateful for all the people God has used to bring us this far. However, If you think of it, I am still in the middle of my marathon and I could really use a cheering section.

This past week my dad stopped by with a cup of coffee and some donut holes. He came to be my shoulder to cry on and I missed him by under a minute. Yet his simple note and sweet gesture left me unraveled in the best way possible. I cried through every sip of that coffee but I knew that I wasn't alone. It meant so much to me that he would stop what he was doing just to pop over and make sure I was okay.

I know there are bigger problems in the world and that you reading this right now might also be having a bad day and be in need of some encouragement. But I also know that I have been feeling a tug on my heart to reach out and let people into the story God is writing in our family. So I'm gonna be brave and say "I need you" and trust that God will do the rest.

Hope Heals the Heartbreak

The old saying "When God closes a door he opens a window" is really annoying to hear when you're going through the pain of loosing an opportunity your heart longed for. For the record so is "God has a plan" and all the other sayings that are absolutely true, but can feel really hurtful in the wrong moment. Thankfully, no one said those things to us when we experienced our first real loss as parents. I can still remember the pain of hearing we might not get Simon. I remember calling my good friend (who happens to be my Pastor and boss) and croaking out the words "we might loose Simon." It was the day before our Simon Says Sing Fundraiser that we had worked hard all summer to produce. I remember my neighbor taking Cara and I to Chick-fila so the girls could play and I would be distracted from waiting for the phone call.

Just after that we went on a family vacation and every time I look at those pictures I am reminded of how hard it was to enjoy the summer sun while part of me already knew.

Well, we finally found Simon's window.

A few weeks ago Simon's mother, Sharon, came back to the babies home. She has visited him a few times since he was born but it was my understanding that no one had heard from her recently. Sharon has recently found a decent home for herself and her health has improved. She came back to the babies home to seek out Simon. The babies home staff contacted us to let us know that they would be doing a home inspection, but they were considering granting her request to be reunited with Simon.

I am pleased to share that the inspection and interview went well and Simon is now home with his birth mother! Bill and I have agreed to take on all of Simon's expenses as a way to help make this a permanent solution for Simon. We will be paying for his food, clothing, toys, medical expenses and school fees. Ken and Cathy have agreed to help us with this by purchasing the items and directly delivering them to Simon for us. This means they will have regular contact with him and we will get updates!

I hope you will join me in regularly praying for Sharon and Simon. I am asking God to continue to protect Sharon's health so that she and Simon can have many long years together. I am also praying for protection over their home and safety. Lastly, please pray for Simon & the nannies as they transitions from 3+ years together at the babies home to sending Simon back into the loving arms of his mother.

Simon, Bill & Isaac on our last day at the babies home.