the turning

This summer has been a tough one.  I've wrestled with putting pen to paper and listing out every hard thing - from the little to the big. I wondered if I saw just how many "various trials" there were that somehow I could find balance in the heaviness I still carry.

But I don't think that is the answer.  Seeing it all in black and white.

No, I want to see it through the lens of His grace.  The grace that carries, chases, and holds close.  The grace that says you don't have to try-hard or strive more or dig deeper.  The grace that says let the peace of Christ rule in your heart.

Yes, I want to remember the summer of 2012 as a milestone of God's amazing grace in my life.

I re-read Grace for the Good Girl slow with some awesome women {good girls, really}.  I am reading Grace-Based Parenting.  And its grace upon grace upon grace in my life.  As the big boys start school and challenges continue to pile up - with a quick trip to MI, and an important long-awaited-court-decision pushed back two weeks, and a potential "permanent profile" for Brad.

I sense that the hardness of the summer is lingering.  And its still heavy.  I plead to let peace rule.  As often as it takes.  Behind the steering wheel, in the shower through tears, after disappointments resurface.  And His grace finds me.

There have been a handful of out-of-the-blue-THIS-is-THE-life-moments in my life.  Times when it almost feels like a picture was taken and a caption was written "You are exactly where you are supposed to be right this very moment."  

I'm not talking about a wedding day, or a baby's birth, or a redeployment ceremony, or even that sweet moment when your grandparents meet their great-grandchild.  No, I'm not referring to the obvious "I ADORE THIS WONDERFUL LIFE" moments ... I have so many of those.  And they are certainly part of my stored up treasures that I revisit during hard times.

However, every once in awhile when everything isn't right, when there hasn't been a conclusion, when relationships still hang tense...Grace finds me and gives me that out-of-the-blue-THIS-is-THE-life-moment anyway.  I have a pretty crappy memory, but these moments I can recall perfectly.  I remember that moment driving down the mountain from Julian to Oceanside with my window down, and jammed onto a smelly bus with my knees alternated between Gambian knees, and after driving through the gate between open fields and Wilson's school while Brad was deployed - these vivid, etched-in-my-brain moments of God whispering, "Child you are exactly where I want you to be right this very moment - and I know its hard even still, but believe me I am with you."

This weekend as 5 out of 6 of us battle a cold and we head into Brad's crazy week... God gave me that moment.  I'll add it to my treasury.

It was late Saturday - late for us is after 10pm these days.  All of our boys were in bed.  Brad was prepping the coffee for Sunday morning.  I walked up the stairs, and turned the corner just past the loud creak, and I paused - deciding whether or not to hide and scare Brad when he came up the stairs {because we are very mature around here}.

And Grace found me.  And peace rushed over me.  And I knew in that moment that we are exactly where we are supposed to be.  As I stood in the glow of the nightlight, I breathed that deep breath of joy. And smiled wide  And decided not to scare Brad this time.

I turned the corner.  Peace rules.  Grace wins.  Always.

"Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body; and be thankful."  

Colossians 3:15

This post "When you are finding it hard to keep up {Chased by Grace}" by Ann Voskamp speaks of this Grace in a much more beautiful way than I ever could.

so we won't ever forget

I made some artwork as a reminder of our little-sesame-seed-size-baby and our God's faithfulness in the middle of heartbreak.  We considered buying some artwork, but I couldn't find any that fit my font-criteria & was budget-friendly.  So, I used some old fabric to wrap the mat board and Microsoft publisher for the rest.  And a cheapo frame from Micheal's.  I love it, not too girly, not too boyish... just perfect in my opinion.  The verse really was an anchor for me.  Even while I was in the ER that long Saturday, there was a song in my head that references this verse - "On Christ the Solid Rock I Stand".

I had considered some sort of artwork with a sesame seed, because this little itty-bitty baby will always be connected to that for me.  When I went to the due-date calculator, the little write-up about "Your Baby at Five Weeks" said it was the size of a sesame seed. So tiny, yet life-changing all at the same time.

I'm not sure if you can get the jpeg from here or not, but if you want it and this doesn't work, just let me know ;)

eighteen months

Today is your half-birthday. We aren't really half-birthday-celebrators. But, we are still making up a little bit for those days before you were home. So momma dressed you in your cutie-rompers-that-are-almost-too-small and drew on the sidewalk with chalk. Because I am marking this day in my memory bank, babies!

Neither of you are really all that impressed with photo-shoots. You were interested in the chalk a bit. And while a photo of both of you looking at the camera at the same time was a little too much, I did manage a couple of cute shots of both of you together.

And a couple cute shots of each of you on your own.  

You are such a cheeser when you want to be, sweet boy!  You are ready for whatever the day brings you, as long as there are snacks and some outside-play-time.

I can barely take your adorableness at times.  Yes, I am your momma, and adorableness is totally an acceptable way to describe you.

And you, little man, with your fake-surprise-face.  Oh, let me always remember it.

You would really rather be on the go than sitting still.  And I get that.  You are healthy, and inquisitive, and all the things an 18-month old baby should be.  I can still call you 'baby', right?

This might be my favorite, because it captures the fact that you both would rather look anywhere than at the silly camera. 

And one more of you with your lovies. 

You are 18 months old today.  You giggle with glee at your brothers.  You love the big, white dog.  You will eat almost anything you are offered, unless of course, it is a vegetable.  Recently, you've both determined that jumping in your cribs as high and as hard as you possibly can is THE. GREATEST. THING. EVER.  You both are gathering more words in your vocabulary on a daily basis.  

We love you dearly, babies.  More than your little-18-month-old-brains can possibly comprehend.  

We have a few more steps in this process until we all have matching last names.  We are praying that God will allow each step to happen just the way it needs to, and I am asking Him to hold my momma-heart-close as we wait for that finalization day.  I trust His timing, and I believe His word.  You are safely secured in our hearts.  The rest is just paperwork. 

"I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in His Word I put my hope."

Psalm 130:5

p.s. Grandparents -  if you click on a picture, they should open in a bigger screen so you can take in the cuteness more easily.

junior

 On a summer Tuesday we draw pictures for a boy in Uganda.  

We draw clouds and sky and grass.

We pick a verse and put it on construction paper.

We choose stickers and write a letter.  We tell him we are praying for him and his family.  We are grateful to reply to his note, and throw in some extras for fun.  Junior's most recent letter to us... he wrote without the help of a translator!  Its the first letter of the kind with no one else transcribing his words.  We are seeing this boy grow.  And we marvel that we get to be a part of it.

So as we write, we do it together.  Babies put crayon to paper, while the rest of us do our part. (And shortly thereafter, crayons to mouth, naturally).

We are blessed to be a part of Junior's life.  We celebrate when we get a letter.  I get teary-eyed when we get a new picture.  This is one of the most marvelous ways to remind our family that we are blessed... and that we can be a blessing to others ... and in turn, we are blessed even more.  Over and over!

If you don't already, would you consider sponsoring a child?  We sponsor through Compassion International. Click here to check it out. 

four boys.

Just thought I'd post a couple pictures that I adore of our kiddos and balloons. You can probably figure this out, the first one was taken on Walker's birthday and the second one was taken on Wilson's birthday.  I've learned even in that short span of time (less than a month between those two birthdays), to stress less about having all eight eyes on the camera.  So when we all look back on those pictures of the tops of heads instead of faces we remember laughter instead of momma screaming "look at me, look at me, look at me, keep your eyes on my camera, would you just look... etc, etc."  And really, laughing memories are much better.  Slow and steady, we'll win this race.

nine!

for real? 

My first born is NINE.  Oh Willy-Bills!  Before you came along I was a teacher.  And now I am a mom.  The way I identify myself totally changed once you came in my world!  Crazy, huh?

You know the day before you were born I was anxious to meet you.  So anxious, in fact, that I brewed up some Raspberry Tea and added a shot of Castor Oil to it.  Supposedly those things can make a momma have a baby faster.  And I don't know if it was my magic mix or if somehow your tiny-self decided it was time; but the next night I held you in my arms.  I know that it was really God's perfect timing.

And, by the way,  I still can't believe that all you have to do is give birth and the hospital people let you bring that baby home with you.

But we did bring you home, didn't we?  And since you are the first born, each year is a new first for us.  Your dad and I have never ever been parents to a nine year old before.  So we'll be learning right along with you... as always.

Wilson, 8 was really a big year for you.  You know that right?  I couldn't get over how well you connected with your classmates this year.  It was so fun to listen in on the conversations in your classroom on the Fridays when I came to help out.  When one of your classmates came to our church and ran over and said, "Hi Wilson's mom!  You know Wilson is like the smartest kid in 3rd grade?"  I will always remember that.  Its something I call 'treasure' and son, you've given me a lot of it.

Speaking of church, the last time I was volunteering I watched you sit and chat with one of the boys sitting in your row.  Just having a full-blown-8-year-old-boy conversation.  I just loved it.  We had pegged you a bit as being "the quiet, shy one."  But this year, you've kinda taught us to be careful about how we peg.  

Now you want to play football!  I am so excited for you to try this out again.  Although, I am not sure that we should count your just-barely-three-year-old football experience as actual football experience.  It was hilarious to watch those videos the other night.  At first I laughed so hard that tears came in my eyes, and then the tears stayed because I am a mom.  And there is such a teeny-tiny-line between laughing tears and sorrow tears.  Because babies grow up.  And fast.

And you hate it a little when I get all teary & mushy.  You've been around for so much of my teary & mushy, and your sensitive heart always tries to encourage or make a joke.  I love that sensitive heart of yours.  God has carefully crafted you in such a way that makes you a fantastic big brother.  Even with the giant changes in our family this year and your big-brother-responsibilities growing in BIG ways, you've managed to do your best.  You've adapted to sharing a room again, and you've found ways to play with Walker more often... even if you would really rather be reading! You make the babies giggle so easily.  I am proud of you.  So proud.

I know NINE is going to be fantastic.  It will probably go too fast.  So let's try our best to really take it one day at a time.  I know God has BIG plans for you this year, I am honored to get to be a part of it all with you!

five days

We knew for sure for five days.  But deep down, I’m pretty certain I knew before that pregnancy test.  And I couldn’t believe it.  I inwardly giggled at the commissary as I bought diapers, dog food and a pregnancy test.  I almost took a picture on instagram to record the moment.  If you are in my inner circle then you might know that I think I’m pregnant a few times a year, regardless of seemingly insurmountable circumstances.  The $1 pregnancy tests at the commissary have been an inexpensive way to disprove my pregnancy-related-thoughts.  Somehow, I thought this time might be different.

I never wait until the time is up to look at a pregnancy test.  I’m too impatient.  So when the control line was the only one to appear - some ugly lies started yammering in my brain - “You are so stupid, like God would really allow you to be pregnant right now.  Seriously?  You thought He would?”  - but another voice started up almost immediately, “That is NOT what THIS is about.   God called you to this moment whether this test says you are pregnant or not, You are His and He loves you…” and I kid you not, the faintest of faint lines began to appear.  I picked up the test and held it close, I scoured my memory, never before had these $1 pregnancy tests shown even a glimmer of a 2^nd line.  I was pregnant! 

 

Brad had to work late.  I intended on waiting until the next morning to even take the test, but again with the impatience.  So when he came home at 11:30 or midnight or who knows what time, I was still awake.  Wide-eyed.  I ran downstairs and he looked puzzled, I blurted out, “I can’t sleep” and he noticed I was holding something in my hands and he asked, “You’re pregnant?”  And he wore the biggest smile because he knew the answer.  And there wasn’t any stress or concern, just a smile and then a big hug; followed by “Number Five!”  

We weren’t sure what the caseworker would think.  We weren’t sure really what anyone would think.  Brad was working his crazy-schedule-week so we hadn’t even really discussed when we’d tell anyone.  We were giddy and shocked and giddy.  I wasn’t so shocked that we would eventually have 5 kids as I was shocked that I was pregnant again.  I kinda thought we would just adopt again.  I wondered about my much-older-than-the-last-time body.  And thought I should try NOT to gain 60 + pounds this time.  We knew we had a court date scheduled for mid-August so maybe we could just wait until the adoption was finalized before letting the cat out of the bag.  That would give us plenty of time to settle in to the idea of a maxed-out mini-van; and figure out how to reply to the sure-to-come comments like, “you know how that happens right?”  I worried that Wilson and Walker might never have their own bedrooms again, Brad assured me that this was a first-world-problem, and I laughed because he was right.

We savored our secret.  I think we were both much more excited than either one of us really expected.  It felt irresponsible and brave all at the same time.  FIVE kids!  We knew God would provide for us.  That was never an issue.  

We found out on Tuesday with that $1 test.  We bought some fancier, more expensive tests on Thursday and, of course, one confirmed it.  It was a twin pack, so I had an extra left over. 

Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday.  Five days.  Not even five full days.

I woke up Saturday morning feeling sick.  Headache and nausea.  And some bleeding.  I was convinced it was nothing, it would go away.  I have this weird response to nausea, I eat.  I know it goes back to my post-Africa-stomach-issues; so I made myself eat breakfast and drink some coffee.  Brad was worried.  I told him I was OK.  I felt awful.  I went to lie down.  I don’t even know exactly what happened that morning.  The bleeding didn’t stop.  The headache got worse, my breakfast came back.  I remember thinking my body was fighting for this pregnancy.  I remember trying to talk my body into fighting hard.  Brad drove me to the ER.  I got sick on the way.  I thought about a story about an ectopic pregnancy and asked Brad if he was my “ICE contact” in my phone.  I wasn’t sure my legs would carry me in when he pulled to the door.  I just wanted it to all be better.  

I walked in to the ER and told them what was happening, “I think I am having a miscarriage.”  Of course, the words will barely come out through the tears.  I feel weak and silly and mad at my body.  “I have a bad headache, and I can’t keep anything down.”  She asks me how far along I am, “I think I am 4-5 weeks, I haven’t seen my PCM yet and didn’t know what to do so I came here; I didn’t have a doctor to call.”  She takes my card and I go sit down.  I think to myself that maybe my running shorts weren’t a good choice.  Brad texts me to let me know he is waiting in the parking lot for a bit. 

I feel a little like everyone in the waiting room is wondering what is wrong with this crying lady.  I tell myself no one in the ER really cares.  

When I get called back, I get hooked up to a bp cuff, and heart rate monitor.  I’m in a private ob-gyn room off the main ER bay.  I get to change into a gown and sit on a bed.  I’m relieved a little bit about the running shorts.  The doc comes in shortly, I tell him my LMP date.  I tell him I just had a physical on the 20^th, I tell him I took a pregnancy test on the 26^th.  He decides to give me an IV, run bloodwork, do a pelvic exam and an ultrasound.  He also gave me some Tylenol. My headache continues but the nausea subsides.  Brad texts some people from church.  He asks me if I want anyone to sit with me.  I don’t.  He would be the only one I would want there, but I want him with the boys.  And since we are still foster-to-adopt parents of our babies, we can’t just call a friend to watch them, it would have to be a state-approved caregiver.  That stresses me out to think about.  I want Brad with them.  

I don’t feel alone though.  I know I am not alone.  Whenever the nurse leaves my little room, I close my eyes, and let the hot tears well up.  I tell my Savior that I know I am not alone.  I trust Him to carry us through this.  Brad and I texted back and forth the whole time, my favorite text from him said, “God is good, we just gotta trust Him.” 

Finally the doctor comes in and says it’s a “threatened abortion.”  I hate that word.  I know it also means miscarriage.  He tells me there’s a 50/50 chance of this pregnancy continuing.  He tells me that the body will do this if there is a problem with the pregnancy, it will take care of it.  Or something.  I don’t remember exactly.  He said the ultrasound was inconclusive and that I needed to get my hCG checked on Monday.

Everything in me hoped this would be one of those “close calls.” I sent an email to my praying girlfriends, although I had no idea how to ask them to pray.  Our parents and siblings all knew and were praying too.  We did our best to explain things to Wilson and Walker…even though I know they were still both confused about it all.   I think Brad knew early on how this would end.  He didn’t rush me to the same conclusion.  Even after the bleeding continued he didn’t make me feel silly for hoping maybe just maybe.  I think I am pretty good about realizing how awesome my husband is, but oh my, does he shine during tough times.  My words would really be lacking if I tried to elaborate on how well he cared for me, for all of us, during these days.

I spent much of the day Monday googling about “threatened abortions at week 5”.  I’m not proud of it, I was just hoping to find something to make it ok.  I found out late Monday that my hCG went down.  Brad was at work.  The babies were sleeping.  Wilson and Walker were watching TV.  I just laid on the bed and sobbed.  I knew there were people that wanted to know what we found out, but I couldn’t bring myself to call or text any of them.  I thought there was going to be a miracle.  I cried some more.  I told God how awful all of this felt.  I told Him that I didn’t feel like telling anyone.   I just wanted to lie there and close my eyes and wake up with it all over… like a nightmare you wake up from.  I know people were praying even in these moments because I was protected from accusations cropping up in my mind.  I felt sorrow, but I didn’t feel guilt.

A week later and I still do not know the first thing about how to process this.  I cannot believe how incredibly painful this is.  We only knew for 5 days.  And I will carry this loss all of my days.  In many ways, I feel God spared me some pain, like if we had seen a heartbeat, or ultrasound pictures, if we had made our ‘big announcement;’ while at the same time I feel that we missed out on so much because this pregnancy only lasted a few short days.  We’ve been left with nothing to show for it.  Those stupid digital pregnancy tests just show a blank screen after a day instead of the word “pregnant.”  And I’m mad about it.  And the tears come so easy.  And my heart feels so broken.  And I have four beautiful boys that bring so much joy to my day, but there is still an ache for a baby I will never hold; that I never even got to feel the weight of.  And it is a heavy burden.  There is a word that keeps rising in me, as I muddle through fleeting pregnancy hormones, the word is cruel – to still ‘feel pregnant’ when there is no baby growing, I can’t think of a better word for it.  I know my God is not cruel, but I am reminded again that this world is.  And this is not my home. 

I feel a little tossed about.  But I am certain that the anchor holds.  And while, technically there is nothing tangible to show for this pain, I will hold tightly to the memory of the night we found out… that priceless, indescribable look on Brad’s face.  I will treasure the reminders of God’s faithfulness in that ER room as the tears fell slow.  I have the emails and texts from friends & family that reassured me of their prayers and God’s goodness.  The sweet hopefulness of a biggest brother, that thought maybe this would be a girl, and that middle brother that asked me just yesterday, “if the doctors were sure this was a miscarriage.”  I didn’t expect them to be excited too.  God has shown me again how big their little hearts are.  

So my heart hurts.  But my faith grows.  I know He has good things in store for us.  I don’t doubt it.  I don’t know how, where, or when, but I don’t doubt it.  I know He comforts carefully and faithfully.  He led me to this anchor verse to tie me down and hold me safe, if you get a chance you should read the verses surrounding it to, 

“We have this hope as an anchor for our soul, firm and secure.” Hebrews 6:19a

SIX!

 Oh our full-of-life Walker boy!  You are six today.  Six!  I won't ask you how this happened, because I think I know; but goodness, you are just growing so fast.

You totally rocked age 5.  You started kindergarten even though I was certain I couldn't handle it.  God and your daddy talked me off that ledge, but I sure {secretly} hoped that by the 2nd week you'd be miserable and I could keep you home with me longer.  But as is often the case, God and Daddy were right and you thrived at school.  You excelled in the classroom and on the playground.  I am almost positive that you know everyone in K and 1st grade... and you don't just recognize them, you know their name and which classroom they are in.  Somehow at age 5 you have already started investing in people.  And your daddy, big brother, and I all marvel at this.

And son.  I can't begin to tell you how amazing it has been to see you as a big brother.  If I'm honest, I'll have to admit that I was so worried about how you would do with two new brothers.  More worried than I should've been.  But once again, God asked me to trust Him with your heart.  And He showed me marvelous things.  You are patient.  And you want to help so much.  Just this week I watched you building blanket forts with your brothers, and I listened to them giggle as you played.  They think you are a pretty awesome big brother!  You have grown in so many ways, and it has been such an honor to watch you stretch your big brother wings to fly!  What joy!

You enjoy the simple things, and help the rest of us enjoy them too.  The only thing you were adamant about wanting for your birthday was balloons.  BALLOONS!  You continually amaze me with your grateful, contented heart.  I pray God continues to nurture gratefulness and contentedness deep down in your soul. 

Your energy is seemingly endless, your laughter is contagious.  You bring joy along with you.  I have no doubt that God has big things planned for you in this year of 6.  I'm sure He'll have to ask me again and again to trust Him with His timing in your life, and I pray I keep learning that lesson well.  I love this adventure with you!

naive enough

So, most of you know how we got to this place of adopting.  Lots of praying, conversation, waiting, praying, rinse & repeat.  And we decided to jump in and move forward with a domestic adoption through foster care.

And you know what? I was naive enough to think that God was going to place a child in our home in just a handful of months.  And after nearly a year of waiting, I thought, well, maybe I just need to fire up some prayer warriors.  And I was naive enough to think that after I sent that first email to my praying-friends that God was going to place a child in our home.  And after 8 months of emailing out updates, we got a call that we had been matched.  And I was naive enough to think that our babies would be legally-our-babies within a month of two.  That was four months ago. 

I don't know how long this process will take until we all have matching last names.  I am ok with that.  I can see that God leads me with enough naivety to take the next step.  He doesn't fill me in on all the details because there is a good chance that I would just say "NO WAY! THAT IS LIKE WAY WAY TOO HARD."  And so He just leads me step by step.  With constant reminders that He is the same, yesterday, today and always.  And He has surrounded me with lovely people that pray for our family.  And I am certain that they also pray that I am not kept awake at night with worry about this process (because I am not kept awake at night with worry about this process).

It occurred to me today, about those weeks between that "you've been matched" phone call and our first meeting with the caseworkers & foster mom.  Weeks.  It felt like forever.  But God was already growing love in our hearts for these two babies.  And I realized today, that those weeks gave root.  Because at that first meeting we found out some things that might've caused us to say, "NO WAY!" if we had found out on that initial phone call.  We needed those roots to hold the news that this was going to be a different path than we had expected. And by the time we found that out,  there was no longer a place in our hearts that could imagine a "NO."

"The very steps we take come from God, otherwise how would we know where we are going?"

Proverbs 20:24

Wherever you are, whatever you are facing.  God has a plan.  And He is working it out.  And it might seem like its taking a sweet-forever, but His timing is always just-right.  And the things that are growing roots in this waiting place, are things you need in your life... and there is a good chance that those roots will one day hold it altogether.  So take your next step with confidence that He has got this.  And if you look back and think you might have been a little naive with your expectations, its likely His way of protecting you from throwing your arms up and saying, "NO WAY, THAT IS LIKE WAY WAY TOO HARD!"

on celebrating mother's day

Mother's Day has never been a one-woman celebration for my sister and I.  I think probably even on the Mother's Days that I don't remember we celebrated Grandma's too. 

Its tricky being from a broken home.  Every circumstance I've encountered has helped shape me into who I am and the life I now live.  And while I would never advocate that divorce is the best-case-scenario, I will stake my life on the belief that God can take broken dreams, broken hearts, and broken homes and create beauty.  I know it, because He has done it for my sister and I.  The road here has not been easy.  God used many women to touch my sister and I in a maternal way.  We have taken for granted too many times how much love our grandmothers' poured into us - each in their own special and unique way. 

God used other women to mold us too... And I am guessing that back in the early 80's each of those women had some strong opinions about this situation we were in. Those ladies could've filled our little girl hearts with their side of the story.  And I am sure each one had a side.  Likely we would've felt we had to choose a side, or would've felt bad for not choosing a side.  We might have felt caught in the middle.  But instead, because they stayed quiet, we just felt loved.  By many.  And I treasure each of these women that have made me the woman I am today.  Dearly. 

Today, though, I celebrate the one that is my mom.  She didn't do it all.  She never claimed to.  She did the best she could.  Always.  And she allowed others to love us when she wasn't able to.  She never tried to diminish their love for us, she never tried to take away from what they had given.  And so amid her own heart break and hard choices, she made room for my sister and I to grow up strong and well loved. 

In Joel 2, there is a verse about God redeeming the years the locusts have eaten.  I believe He is faithful to His word...

The threshing floors will be full of grain,

And the vats will overflow with the new wine and oil.

 “Then I will make up to you for the years

That the swarming locust has eaten,

The creeping locust, the stripping locust and the gnawing locust,

My great army which I sent among you.

 “You will have plenty to eat and be satisfied

And praise the name of the Lord your God,

Who has dealt wondrously with you;

Then My people will never be put to shame.

Joel 2:24-26

And what started out rough, is turning out beautifully.  When God reconciles a relationship, He allows us to remember the joys, and helps to cover the pains.  So I look back on what the world calls broken and see laughter.  I see trips to the beach, the cabin, the Ocean.  I see dancing in the car.  I see Shel Silverstein poems being read often. I see hugs and laughing and teasing with sisters.  I recall the loudest mouth from the bleachers, even as I was up to bat - to strike out again. 

My mom taught me to do my best.  To try new things.  To believe the best in others.  To love adventure.  To love your {extended} family, even if you disagree wholeheartedly; because they will be there for you and for your kids.   To never give up.

I love my momma, not because she was perfect while I was growing up.  I love her because of who she is.  And by God's grace, my momma and I are experiencing a great relationship now.  What could've been trampled and forgotten so many years ago, continues to flourish now.  Those ladies that invested in my sister and I, might not realize that they have helped my grown-up-relationship with my mom.  But I can see it now.  And I am so grateful that they were able to keep their opinions to themselves, so God could nurture this seed buried deep. 

She is a superb "Yaya" to my boys.  I am almost positive that there is a laugh-until-we-cry-moment every time we are together these days.  And sometimes it happens over the phone too.  And when I am just having a down right bad day, she answers my call and breathes encouragement.  It gets better and better.  And while neither of us could yet claim perfection, we both adore one another. 

The greatest gift she gave me is this beautiful relationship we have now.  It reminds me to do the best I can each day with my boys and trust that God will create something beautiful in the end, even when I fail, even when I crumble.  God does not, will not, and can not.  I can trust that my mothering will be enough because God is faithful.  He has shown me His faithfulness in my precious relationship with my own momma.  In a place that maybe back in the 80's nobody had much hope for.  But God knew. 

book review

 

I finally finished the 2nd book I bought after Christmas.  I tend to read books slowly, take in bits and pieces and think them over before moving on.  Add to it the adopting-twin-one-year-olds, and my book reading process really, really slowed down!

Grace for the Good Girl - letting go of the try-hard life is an excellent book; even if you wouldn't necessarily classify yourself as a "good girl."  It actually took me a bit to commit to reading it because of that "good girl" phrase.  But I adore the author's blog, and so often her posts are written exactly for me on exactly the right day.  And a few women (girls?) that I highly respect and appreciate had great praise for this book.  So I decided to go for it.  And wouldn't you know right in the middle of this adoption process is actually the perfect time for me to read this book?

Because I need grace.  A lot of it.  

But sometimes, I believe the lie that I should be able to handle this myself.

I believe that if I just to do the right things, the right way, it will work out right.

And when I make a mess, I get mad at myself for making a mess... because I should know better.

Instead of trying harder and shoulding myself, I need grace.

I need to let go of tightly clenched fists and let grace grow in open hands.

This book gave me a new mantra for these days that are newly filled with double-toddler-hood.  

Chapter 11 - receive - on truth and trusting : begins with this verse {and by the way, I adore books that have quotes at the beginning of a chapter, its like a little sneak preview all wrapped up in perfectly chosen words}

"Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body; and be thankful."  Colossians 3:15

Emily goes on to talk about "the letting" in chapter 11.  I feel I might do a great disservice by just choosing a few of her words, but this letting bit covered me like the most comfy blanket...surrounding me and assuring me that this letting is where I will find my Savior's grace.

"We have the letting power.  If I cling to my if-only-I-coulds and my if-they-would-justs, I miss out on the freedom to be found in letting peace rule.  The truth is true whether I let it be or not.  Colossians says let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts...

... I have to receive this peace.  It is not an easy thing to do, to quiet the voices of the accusing party and to allow peace to have the authority.  If I will let it, the peace of Christ will stand between me and the lies of the enemy, the lies that accuse and attack and shame.  Letting this peace rule is a profound mystery, and for many years, it seemed impossible."

Yes.  Yes.  Yes.  

Many mornings, before I even put my feet in the floor, I start with that verse.  Many times throughout the day when things get messy and frustration starts creeping, I repeat that verse.  Sometimes, as I repeat it, I put emphasis on "LET" and other times on "PEACE" and still other times "RULE," and of course, "and BE THANKFUL."

So good.  So so good.  You should read it.  And just today, Emily posted this on her blog... so maybe you should read it this summer.

p.s.

Emily is in the process of editing Graceful, which is written for young women that are starting out as good girls. It will be available in  the fall.

this, that, and the scabies

THIS:
Brad downloaded more music for me.  Music Inspired by The Story.  I've been listening to it in the car (at least when I remember to bring my phone with me).  It might be one of the most fun albums I've ever listened to.  Each song is a specific person from the bible telling their story.  I have it set on shuffle, so I try to guess each one.  It just makes my heart giddy.  I guess because their stories are also a part of my story.  And to hear it ln song, oh my.  These stories I have loved for so many years, put to song, wow.  I haven't read The Story yet, but this album is kinda talking me into it.

THAT:
Oh my.  One of those weeks.  (We'll get to the scabies part next).  Wilson pretended to pick Walker up the other night, Walker jumped into/onto Wilson enthusiastically which made Wilson buckle and fall backwards.  Both boys landed simultaneously with Walker's foot being at the bottom of the pile.

Long story short, we went to the ER. He has a walking boot; will follow-up next week to see if there is sign of a fracture.

I walked him in to school this morning (with the babies in their double stroller, of course, a new one that fits through the door ways at the school and steers without me having to kick the front wheels!)  I talked to the nurse about Walker's foot.  I talked to his teacher about his foot.  An hour later, just after we got home from a quick (!) trip to the commissary, the nurse calls to tell me Walker is vomiting.  Poor baby.  We load up, head to the school, unload the stroller and the babies and head on in to get our guy.  I chat with him a bit on the way home, he was quiet.  At one time I looked in the rearview mirror and he gave me the puffed-out-cheeks, I"m gonna puke look... silly me, I thought he was teasing.  Still chatting when I pull in the garage, I tell Walker he can get out first (instead of waiting in the way-back for me to get the babies out).  He doesn't answer me and isn't moving as I gather my belongings, I say, "Walker what are you doing back there?"  I'll save you the details, you can probably guess...  oh dear.

So I help him into the tub after I get the babies into the living room.  They are screaming, but I remind myself that they are OK.  Walker is burning up.  There is puke in the van.  I still have scabies laundry to do.  There is still melon all over the high chairs from breakfast.  I send Brad a text, he says don't worry about the van.  I am reminded again why I think he is so fantastic.  I smell a stinky diaper.  I take care of it, and at the same time pull Walker's booster seat out of the van and set it in the driveway.  The babies bang on the window letting me know they'd appreciate lunch.  I figure the sun is a disinfectant of sorts.  I go check on Walker.  He is ready to get out of the tub.  I get him some clothes and a blanket and a pillow.  I half-wrap him in a towel and realize that this baby is a giant and is not easily wrapped up anymore.  And he is burning up.  And the babies are screaming.  I help him get dressed and get his splint-walking boot thing back on.  He wants to watch TV, our antenna is not getting PBS today.  I have no clue how to get netflix on the xbox.  I send more texts to Brad.  I get the high chairs wiped off and get the babies settled in for lunch.  A cup of milk satisfies them for the time, while I go back up to give Walker some re-hydration mix from the pantry.  Brad texts me about the TV situation.  Walker gets that figured out.  I come down stairs give the babies some raisins, they are giddy.  I am thankful they are so thrilled by raisins.  I switch out laundry.  Brad says to try some motrin for the burning-up-boy.  I go upstairs, he's chatty, we try motrin.  He grabs the trash can.  You can figure it out.  More texts to Brad.  Back down stairs to cut up some cheese and turkey for the babies.  They are thrilled again... I eat some turkey too.  Back up stairs with Tylenol and a syringe to give 1ml at a time to see if he can keep it down.  Oh and benadryl to help with the nausea.  Back down stairs to refill the high chair trays with cheese and turkey, and a few crackers.  And I think Walker would like some crackers too, so I bring some up to him.  The xbox is frozen, more texts to Brad.  I remember I'm supposed to drop off a snack at PWOC tomorrow.  I realize that will not happen.  I give the babies one more handful of raisins for a healthy dessert.  They clap!  I go back up to give Walker another ml of Tylenol, he got the xBox figured out.  Smarty.  I tell him I am going to get the babies ready for their nap.  I pray that they are ready for their nap.  I pray that Walker won't puke anymore.

My prayers were answered.  Hallelujah.  I snuggle with Walker while the babies are snoozing.

In the midst of all of this, a friend sent me a text to let me know she was thinking of me; that she wished she was closer so she could help out.  Her husband is deployed.  I realize how easy my day is.

THE SCABIES:
If you've talked to me for five minutes about our babies, you've heard something about their skin issues.  They have been puzzling to us from the get go... they have fingernail-size scars all over from scratching so hard.  It just didn't look like eczema.  And there was just nothing online that explained a rash from stress.  We used all the recommended creams, and bath treatments too.  We said, "no scratching,mister!",  "scratching is bad for our skin!",  "we don't scratch ourselves!" more times than I can even make a clever statement about.  We finally felt like we had broken the scratching cycle and could see bumps.  A week or so ago the doctor said, "Hmm, doesn't really look like eczema, looks like bug bites!"  But he left it at that.  I started freaking about bed bugs.  Brad reasoned we'd all have bites.  Oh yeah, he is so logical.  I did check the crib mattress though, you know, just in case.  And then sometime, I started breaking out with a rash.  A very itchy rash, in sensitive areas.  I thought maybe I was crazy.  This week the babies went to the doc with fevers, and a draining ear.  I also talked to this doctor about their skin.  I asked for a derm referral, but she went ahead and looked them over and diagnosed scabies.  She wrote me a script too.  The foster family had also been itchy, so I sent her a text.  She went to the derm the next day and was negative for scabies.  The babies had been treated at that point, so I treated myself too...  and now we wait to see if this works.

Last week maggots, this week scabies...

the good news is: 

"Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever."  

Hebrews 13:8

family outing

We managed to head out to the River Trail this weekend.  Wilson told me a few weeks ago that all he wanted for his birthday was to go on a bike ride with Brad (although he said Daddy when he told me that, of course).  So Brad and Wilson loaded their bikes into the Aztec. We loaded the dog, the jogging stroller, a scooter, some snacks into the van.  We might need a bike rack some day so we only have to take one vehicle ;)  Walker scooted for awhile and I jogged s-l-o-w-l-y.  I discovered that if I jog slowly enough I don't have to lock the front wheels and its easier to steer, which eases the burn on my triceps while I run - well, jog.  However if I go too fast or hit a bump the front end vibrates something fierce. 

I snapped the picture of the stroller team at our snack stop - the scooter had already been folded up and put away.  Don't you love his sweaty-helmet-head?  After our break, we walked for awhile then Walker jogged a little with me; then rode on the front, with arms on the babies' trays to hold on.  I jogged really slowly then ;)  The babies love going for walks...especially when there are snacks.  I do periodically have to remind them to keep their hands to themselves ;) 

I snapped the bikers' picture after they passed us on their way back to the vehicles.  I could hear Wilson yelling, "Walker" long before they reached us.  (Walker asked if he could run with them back to the cars, but the answer was no.  He got to ride on the stroller instead.)  Brad and Wilson rode 5 miles, which is pretty impressive considering its Wilson's first ride of the year.  He did say his legs were sore today.  He loved it.  And now we don't have to get him anything for his birthday ;) 

{Oh, and when we got home Brad discovered coolant all over the Aztec's engine.  Awesome!  Well, awesome that we were home when he noticed.  Its going to the shop tomorrow.}

maggots!

Yes.  This was our trash can this morning.  I posted a picture to Facebook with a plea about "fixing" this problem.  I got lots of responses... most telling me to use bleach.  So I went out there with a spray bottle and started shooting them.  The babies banged on the living room window encouraging me to fight the good fight. {The big boys were already at school or surely they would've been in on the fun.}

Of course, as I was spraying the can down with bleach, I knew it wasn't going to "fix" anything.  It was a temporary {very temporary} solution.  The only thing that would solve this problem would be to get that trash out of there.  This verse came to mind:

 "You blind Pharisee, first clean the inside of the cup and of the dish, so that the outside of it may become clean also." 

-Matthew 23:26.

And as I kept spraying bleach around and around, God gave me a little lesson right there in the side yard by a trash can of {angry} maggots.  He got me thinking about confession.  We can clean ourselves up on the outside all we want, but if we aren't willing to acknowledge before God our sins, well, we're inviting maggots.

The truth about this maggot situation is that it is my fault.  I could blame the hot humid climate, or I could say its a by-product of the hard work of adoption...(and all those dirty diapers, x2 remember?)  But in all honesty, I made a mistake last week.  I bought a roast for Sunday dinner.  In my rush to unload the groceries, I didn't check the expiration date on that hunk of beef when I put it in the fridge.  Later in the week when I saw it sitting there, I remember thinking oh, good, the roast won't be frozen when I get it ready Sunday morning... thinking that I certainly had checked the date when I put it in the fridge and not the freezer.  Sunday morning, I found out I was going to be throwing away $6 worth of beef.  I left in the fridge until I went to the commissary this week, then tied it up in a plastic bag and took it out to our trash can.  In 80+ degree temps with high humidity.  And today the results were obvious. 

I know those maggots won't be gone until that roast is gone.  And after that I am going to be bleaching that can like crazy.  And possibly finding a spot for it in our garage.  And looking for some toilet deodorizers to hang on the inside {a tip a friend gave me.}  And not put raw, rotting meat in there again... especially not an entire roast. 

As I alternated spraying bleach and waving at the babies, acknowledging my role in this maggot infestation; I realized our sin situation is much the same. We are told countless times to confess our sins.  In the prayer Jesus taught the disciples he says, "Forgive us our trespasses."  Confession should be a continual part of our lives.  If not we'll turn into maggot infested trash cans. 

Often times we'd rather blame something else - like our climate... our fallen world.  We throw our hands up and say, "What else can I do?" 

Or maybe we'll blame our circumstances - even the good things we are doing.  We might overlook our short temper with our kids because we're stressed out trying to get everything in the car for the PWOC event... or church event... or FRG event... or cub scout event.  "I can't help it!"  "I'm running like a crazy lady trying to get it all done!"  "It'll be better next week when ___________ is over!"

And sometimes we just plain screw up - like throw a roast in the trash.  But we don't want to admit it, so we think covering it up will keep it hidden.  Or sometimes we don't realize the root problem.  How often has my heart been a stinking mess because I've held on to hurt feelings, that have turned into bitterness, which turns into a breeding ground for sin?

Oh to have eyes that see my failings and a heart that confesses them to my Father.  Often.  Because He will forgive me every single time I ask.  And cleanse me. 

"let us draw near with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful;" 

 -Hebrews 10:22-23 

And so, I have a greater appreciation for our "trash day."  And as I clean out my trash can after that roast is gone, surely I will be reminded to invite the Holy Spirit to cleanse me too.  Often.