Good Mom/Bad Mom/RAD Mom

Today is Mother's Day.

Sigh.

It's a good day, unless it's not. And there are too many that I know or think of who struggle with parts of motherhood--being one, not being one, living in the shadow of a mother. As our pastor said this morning, "Motherhood is complicated." Amen.

All this week I've been thinking about Mothers. So has everyone else.

Earlier in the week, the local Christian radio station was asking listeners which TV mom they most loved. And in the few minutes I listened, the answers were predicable. Caroline Engalls. Mrs. Walton. June Cleaver. Claire Huxtable. Even Jill Taylor from Home Improvement.

Each of those women were characters who exemplified the best of being a being a mother: patient, grace-filled, providing, strong yet weak, good humor, God-fearing.

I wondered where the mention of Roseanne was.

Come one, you remember Roseanne, don't you? I can picture her sitting on her couch calling Becky to bring her something from the kitchen. I can see the plaid shirts of the mid-90's.

Of course no one mentioned Roseanne. Because although she was doing the best that she could with the tools available to her, she still yelled, her kids were fallen, her marriage was rocky. No one aspires to be Roseanne. (Quietly, we might even say she was a bad mom. Or at least that she isn't the mom you ever wanted.)

That is what has made me most sad this week. Why? Because I am Roseanne.

See, as a mom of a traumatized kid from a super-hard place, I am not the mom I want to be. I want to have the humor of Jill Taylor, the grace and hard work of Caroline Engalls, and the immaculate life of June Cleaver. But I'm not.

Yesterday, I read a post be a RAD dad who summed it up well. It be best if you went to read it (here), because this is how I feel about myself. That I am hard and mean and a great big "B". Rigid. Without laughter. Much too stern and serious. All. The. Time.

This isn't the mom I EVER wanted to be. I don't want to yell or be stern or controlling. I never wanted to have to fight to love my child. I never knew another's brokenness could so break me (or that I was that fragile.)

But it is the mom that I am. This is the life God has gifted me. My four littles are some of the tools of his grace and his sanctification in my life.  He is using it to refine me.

And for that I am trying to be thankful.

To all the moms out there that I know: working moms, homeschool moms, stay-at-home moms, toddler moms, longing moms, grieving moms, adoptive & foster moms, to all of you who wear your heart on your sleeve but shield it with armor, to you who work tirelessly for your children or to achieve your dreams, to you who wipe away tears and kiss boo-boos and let too-big kids sit on your lap, I salute and honor you. You are an excellent woman! One of Valor and Worth. Happy Mother's Day.

Starting Over

Two years ago, I was opening my heart to the reality of my new daughter. By this time in 2013, we knew her name and had a single picture and were just two weeks away from being legal and forever family.

I was preparing as any expectant mother would: reading the books, getting her room and clothes and toys ready, packing and preparing for a trip overseas that I knew would change my life.

I opened my heart to love a perfect stranger, who had a past, a personality, a life I didn't know about.

May 15, 2013

This day changed my life. We welcomed Mali into our arms and family. She plopped into my lap as if she knew we were hers.

So when we came home we did all the right things: we stayed with her at bedtime, we tried not to ever leave her alone. We opened our hearts to this new little stranger.

But after what should have been a transition time where the beginning bonds of attachment started, where the gossamer strands of trust should have begun to bind us together, they blew away with the breeze. It didn't take long for us to realize that there was something seriously wrong, that I was clearly not equipped to handle. So we sought help, we learned the right words to say, we were encouraged how to love and care and support this one who was so obviously hurting from a very deep and fundamental place in her spirit.

Her wounds are deeper and more fundamental than we ever imagined. And for the past 22 months, life has been challenging.

I have been spit at, hit, kicked, head-butted, pinched, bit. I have had to hold my daughter to keep her safe from herself. I have had virulent ugly words spat at my face--her hurt and anger and fear poured out on the nearest, safest person she could find. Usually me, often Eric. Both of us.

So slowly, ever so slowly, after dark nights of regret and whispered prayers of desperation, I closed my heart off. I couldn't handle the manipulation, the abuse, the anger and then the desperate need. I had three other children who also have strong emotional needs. It was easier to love the ones who loved me back, who craved my touch, who wanted to spend time with me, who apologized for their ill-treatment, than it was to love the one who has openly hated me.

Summer 2014
Mt. Rushmore National Monument.
After an hour long tantrum--in public

To the place we are now where my soul is weary, where I am so weary all the time. My emotions are shot. I am empty and it takes more than a night out to restore me. I have second-guessed and doubted my abilities as a parent, a wife, a mother. I have chided myself for not being able to better deal with this life, faulting myself for every issue in our home. I feel old, care-worn, and heavy-burdened. I was beginning to resign myself to the simple fact that this was going to be my life and try to make the best of it.

I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall.

I remember them well and my soul is downcast within me. 

But now, we've started making some headway for our sweet girl. New therapies seem to making a tremendous difference. I don't think she's had a serious tantrum in at least a week. Although I don't know this child in front of me, I think this is my only chance at starting over. She seems open to hear the messages of love, safety, family, and attachment. But now I need to learn to love her. To treat her with tenderness and devotion. To open my heart to her as when this was fresh and new and life was full of possibilities.

But with tears in my eyes, I tell you that I'm not sure I want to. I'm not sure I'm willing to open my heart up to this little one. I'm scared. I don't know that I can handle having my heart raked across the coals again. I don't know if I can.

As the person reading this, perhaps all this makes you uncomfortable. You are uncomfortable with the idea that love isn't natural or that a parent could close their heart. Maybe you hear blame--that I am blaming my daughter for all these things, which I am not. I am one who has made mistakes, yelled too loudly, disciplined unfairly, put an undue burden on a child unable to bear it. Maybe you just don't like knowing how messy and broken I am, my daughter is, my whole family is.

So why am I telling you? Why am I putting this deep pain on display? I know that I am opening myself and our family up for judgment, just talking about this is in a public forum is frowned upon. Someday my kids will probably read this and have their own questions and a few accusations.

Because I need to believe that redemption is coming and I want to remember where we've come from.
Because I know that I am not alone. Sitting on their own couches, holding back tears, other mothers and fathers, struggle with similar pain.
Because I am tired of not having people understand, of people doubting my exhaustion and experience.
Because I have to believe that I am capable of healing, that God is capable of healing me.

Yet I call this to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord's great love, I am not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning, great is Your faithfulness. 

So today is a day of starting over.
Tomorrow probably will be too.

A Half-finished thought...

[Full Disclaimer: I started this post on Sunday. Then I put it aside to add pictures later. And now it's Tuesday night and there are still no pictures. If I want you to ever read it, it'll just have to be the words!]

It's gotten quite bad lately. The kids have started to chastise me when I loose track of a sentence.

"Mom, what were you saying?"

I whip my head back toward my original intention, pulling my attention away from the one who stole it in the first place.

A blank look crosses my face. "Uh....I forgot."

Or I start to sweep the junk off the floor under the table. I make a nice little pile. I go to find the dustpan when someone needs me or I get distracted or something happens. And I totally forget about the sweeping and the pile of dust and food crumbs waiting in the middle of the floor. Until some child (or I) step through it and spread it everywhere again.

And that seems to be the story of this past year.

It's been the year of unfinished thoughts, projects, intentions.

As I type, there are four Christmas gifts that I cannot finish while the receivers are out of bed.

Looking on my bedside table, there are a couple books that I started, but have never finished. Not because they aren't great, but I just didn't. (Honestly, the ones I haven't finished have all been non-fiction.)

At my feet in the office, is a stack of soon-to-be discarded rough drafts of my novel, which although received so well, has stalled (and died?) in the middle of a major revision.

Throughout the year, I've started diagnosis/medication paths for children, to have them go nowhere.

I've started life changing conversations, only to not be able to have the time to finish them well.

A box of half-addressed Christmas cards sits on the dining room counter. (Consider them New Year's best wishes.)

If there has been anything that has characterized this year, it is the un-finished-ness of it. The things I haven't been able to follow through on, the things I've started, but not yet completed.

I want to think that this is a phase, that there will come a time when everything is completed, where projects and thoughts and intentions are brought to fruition. But I don't think it's going to be for a while.

So the question i have, how do I live life well in the middle of this: life unfinished, rough cut, unedited? I'm sure there is wisdom and patience to be found even in the midst of these stops & starts.

I'll go look for it in just a minute....


[If you've gotten this far, then let me wish you the merriest of Christmases, full of the traditions and events that warm your heart, the quiet moments of reflection and pondering that refuel your soul, and a reminder that our greatest gift isn't wrapped under the tree--He was born in a stable. Blessings. -S]

Foodie Fail

I spend a lot of time thinking about this blog: what's it's focus should be, what I know a lot about, what I'm passionate about.

And I think I stumbled on something: food.

I love food! It's so yummy. I like to prepare and eat it. I'm not big on presentation or pictures of food. But that's a skill I could learn right? Food blogs are a big deal: I spend a great deal of time gleaning my recipes from other food bloggers. I'm sure the world could use another one.

And I like to think about food--but not in the way that you think. Food has the power to change a life: to make one sick or make one well.

And food inequality.

And real food versus junk food.

And how the poor often don't have access to quality food.

And the difference an adequate diet has on health and learning and thriving.

The piece de resistance: how much food we waste. A recent report I heard on NPR said that our country's food waste is equal to our waste of paper and plastic combined.

This statistic has certainly borne itself in our home. Last year, as a science experiment, we kept track of our trash output for an entire week. What we found was humbling: about 40 pounds of waste (which includes the amount that we recycle). But of that total, about 1/3 was food waste. Of course, that included peels and ends and a chicken carcass. But it also included the remains of the cereal bowl, the gross remains from the fridge, the second helping of dinner that was put on a plate, but not eaten. One third!! 13(ish) pounds of wasted food. That's disgusting.

I was sickened.

So, as I thought about a blog, I thought, "I could do some stuff with food stuffs that we would generally waste. Find a useful and yummy way to prepare it, so it wasn't wasted." Wouldn't that be great?

Luckily, my wonderful neighbor often picks up bulk foods for our family. This week I got a huge bag of bananas. They were still perfect, just a bit spotty. Delicious. But I also know that there was no way that our family would finish eating them before they turned bad. There is already a significant number of bananas and mush waiting in my freezer. (Honestly, putting more in the fridge would just be my way of wasting by not wasting. I probably wouldn't use them).

Looks good going in.

Then I had an epiphany. I stumbled across a recipe for homemade banana chips. Sure, they aren't the family's favorite, but I could spruce them up, toss them in homemade granola, right?

So I heated the oven, prepared the pan, and sliced the bananas. To add a bit of 'extra.' I made a mixture of cocoa powder and sugar and sprinkled all over the banana slices.

Doesn't this sound yummy?

I let them bake for almost two hours--I wanted crispy little pieces of banana.

When I took them out, they looked...okay. Then I tasted one. It was gummy. No worries, I thought, they just need to cool. Gave them a few minutes to cool. Try again. Weird and gummy. "Well, maybe it was just that one." Try a smaller one, a bit crispier. Hopeful. Taste. Nope.

I let them sit on the counter until Eric came home. "Hmmm, those look interesting." One taste. The look on his face was confirmation. This was a food fail. Two pans (and a couple bunches of bananas) went straight into the trash. My attempt at not wasting...sigh...resulted in wasted food.

The lesson in all this: I don't think I'm going to be a food blogger. It was fun for about 10 seconds.

It was more fun and challenging and real to think about how we use food and what we waste and our part in the system. And how much we take for granted. There has to be a niche in that, right? For me and my thoughts?

But next time I have extra bananas, I'll just stick to banana bread & muffins.

I kept sampling because I hoped that maybe they would get better.
They didn't.

Life in Africa

Dumela! (that means "hello" in Sesotho). 

This is just a quick post to say that after a full week, we're here in Africa. 

All 6 Beukers! 

This journey, so far, has been stretching, eye-opening, hard, beautiful, both expected and unexpected. 

We've travelled throughout the city of Maseru (where we've visited the grocery store that is inside the mall), seen a place called KoMe Caves (where people have lived in caves as their primary homes for five generations), and hiked a mountain called Thabu Bosiu (an important place in the history of Lesotho.) There are stories to tell and images to process. We have seen so much in the past few days that it would take pages and pages to describe it to you. 

I know that the thing you want to know is this: how's it going as a family as 6? Well, a lot like our time in Africa. 

We are all learning how to be a family together--the road, at times, has been exactly as we imagined, yet nothing like we imagined. We're all getting to know each other. That process takes time and patience and lots of determination and no small amount of love. Thankfully, God has supplied everything we've needed. Yet, Eric and I still fall into bed at the end of the day, exhausted to the core. 

We have another week and a half here in Lesotho, where our internet is dependent on spending time with friends. After that, we travel back to South Africa for another week and a half for more appointments. I'll post as I can, but can't promise anything. 

Keep us in your prayers. 

S

Whispers

There's so much I want to say about this part of our adoption process, but it seems that every five minutes has a different emotion or task attached to it. I didn't think that anyone wanted to read my up-and-then-down-and-then-up-again posts. 

However, in the midst of all that, there are lessons being learned and lived. 

Right now on my table there is a 3-ring binder full of lists: what to take, paperwork, what to do, what to buy, bonding hints, how to get the kids ready. Next to that are a few books that I am reading on that same tack. And finally, I spend an inordinate amount of time scouring the net for any hint or tip that will make all this easier, faster, better. 

I tend to make big deals out of little things. The other night I was running errands when I found myself on the toy aisle considering toys for the long flight. I started to panic. How do I buy toys for a little girl I don't know? Who is she? How does she play? Does she like pretend? dress up? dolls? I started to get a bit frantic. It seems silly, I know, but I didn't know what to do or what to choose. And I sent a frantic prayer up to God. 

And he whispered back: 

"It's not about the toys, it's about relationship." 

Deep breath. 

Last week, amidst my travel planning, I decided to check and see what the State Department had to say about international travel. [Note to self: Don't do that again]. What did I learn? The world is a scary place where a lot of bad things happen every single day. Then, our enemy crept in and used two fierce weapons, fear and anxiety, to make me question many aspects of this trip we were planning. 

And then God whispered to me, 

"For I do not give you a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of sound mind." 

(2 Tim. 1:7 NKJV)

It's going to be okay. 

Earlier this week, I spent a great deal of time thinking about this scary place that our entire family is walking into. It's unknown--how will the realness of adoption affect all of us? And I began to fear: knowing that there is darkness to come and fearing that the darkness will be too strong and that I won't be able to see the Light. And I worried and feared. 

And God whispered to me, through the words of a wise friend: 

"Remember the promises I made and the call that I gave you."

"I will lead the blind

    by a road they do not know,

by paths they have not known

    I will guide them.

I will turn the darkness before them into light,

    the rough places into level ground.

These are the things I will do,

    and I will not forsake them."

 Is. 42:16 NRSV

He who leads me in will lead me out. 

And in the midst of these fears, I began to feel very alone, and again fear raged in me. I am all alone. I have to do this by myself. I will fail. 

God in his infinite provision and wisdom used the hands and words of many friends to surround me with love and friendship and help. He whispered words of love and compassion through their actions and words. 

I am never alone. 

Finally, I'm reading a book on claiming Sunshine's life story and preserving it for her someday. And it forces me to look deeply into the circumstances of her life. The book challenges me to look into her life and declare them good, to acknowledge that in all things that God is sovereign. And I struggle with this: how is abandonment good? how can it work together for good? How can I acknowledge that this is a good God's plan for a life? 

And God whispers into my heart my own life verse, the one that I have claimed through my own difficulties in childhood and life, the one that I stake me entire life on:

I praise you, O Lord, 

For I am fearfully and wonderfully made. 

My frame was not hidden from you 

    when I was formed in that secret place. 

Your works are wonderful, I know that full well. 

All the days ordained for me were written in your book

   before a single one of them came to be." 

Psalm 139 

And I am reminded and comforted, because God's whispers are louder and more life-changing that the enemy's weapons. These are the promises that I claim, these are the truths upon which I will stake my life. 

For me, for my family, for my daughter. 

In all this you greatly rejoice, 

though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. 

These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—

of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—

may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. 

1 Peter 1: 6 & 7

Oh, those eyes!

Be still my heart.

She is BEAUTIFUL.

I'm staring at the picture of this little stranger who has captivated my heart and many of my thoughts.

I want to pinch her sweet cheeks. I want to cuddle her under my chin. I want to wipe tears away from those dark brown eyes.

Now, more than ever, my thoughts are consumed with what it's going to take to get her home--what hurdles do I need to leap over, what oceans do I need to cross, what doubts do I need to put aside--what will it take to bring her home?

To that end, we are more than thrilled that two days ago we received from our agency's lawyer in Lesotho legal paperwork--our official petition to the court to adopt our Sunshine. Tonight it will be notarized and tomorrow, Fed-exed back across the ocean for a legal action to take place sometime in April. The court will then issue a new birth certificate--and then we go get her. Holy Cow!

So, to get ready, we've been rearranging our house (more on that to come....), purchasing items that we need for a long trip to Africa with our family (Imodium ad, anyone?)

We've been so busy that I almost missed Easter--one of the most holy days of my faith, one of my most precious. There haven't been extra discussions on how Jesus came to die from my sins, how desperate and needy I am without him, how alone, wretched, and lost I am without his choosing to come to earth to rescue me.

There have been no crafty Pinterest craft-ivities, no in-depth conversations about how Christ spent each of the days of Holy Week, no homemade Easter dresses for the girls, no acting out washing each other's feet, definitely no bunny or egg crafts.

But that's okay, because I realized something a couple days ago. This entire week (and Lenten season) has been spent thinking on the act and gift and cost of the crucifixion and the hope of the resurrection. We're focusing all our efforts and pennies and efforts on bring home one precious child. With great JOY.

In a very small way, this echoes the story of Easter. Our act of running to rescue Sunshine is not unlike Christ's salvific work on the cross--because he loved me, us so much he completed the task set before him with Joy, because he knew it would bring us home, into the presence of the Father for all eternity.

This to me is beautiful and humbling and powerful--that I could be part of God's work here on earth, that I can extend his love to a new little person.

And now that I see her face and can stare into those eyes, even though I don't know her, every moment, insecurity, doubt, has been transformed into JOY!

From our house to yours, may your Easter weekend be filled with the humbling reminders of what it cost Christ to rescue from the squalor of your sin and Holy Spirit shivers when you are reminded of the grace given to you.

Blessings.

A Complicated Dance

A friend of mine used those words to explain this part of adoption and I love the picture. Even now, in the waiting moments (curse you, waiting!) this adoption thing is dreadfully complicated, pitting so many of my emotions against each other that I am a mess. I want to be completely honest about this process because I think it is useful to the conversation.

Let me introduce her to you: Her name means Sunshine (so that is what I'll call her here). She lives in Lesotho, Africa. She will be four this summer.

I haven't yet seen a picture, but I can imagine her: dark skin, dark eyes, chubby cheeks, big smile. I'm already in love. A part of my heart is no longer in Michigan, but over 8,000 miles away.

There are some very real and unexpected emotions going through us right now. You should know.

First, Grief. I am so sad--for Sunshine and her birth mama. Abandonment is a universal truth in adoption. On paper, you know it's true. But seeing hand written words describing those circumstances, imagining how it hurt, it punches you in the gut and wants to rip your heart out. We grieve for Sunshine and her mama.

Anger. I am angry. I am angry at sin and a broken world and realities that make adoption necessary. I am angry at injustice and the fact that there are babies and toddlers and kids and teenagers who have grown up without a family. It is horribly ugly and unfair. It is the result of sin in the world and I lament.

Fear. There are two layers of this going on: One, hair. In American black culture, hair is a big deal. I can't even deal with my own girls' hair. Yeah, I know I shouldn't stress about this, but I do.
Second, I am scared to parent this little girl, to try to help her heal her hurts. Are we strong enough for the grieving of a young child? Because no matter how great an orphanage she comes from and how wonderful a family she enters into, there will be tremendous grief. I don't know if I am enough. I know I'm not enough. That's what Jesus is--but here on earth, I am his representative.

Excitement. Oh yeah. We are excited! We can't wait to meet her. We're talking about what dolls to buy and how to decorate rooms and what size clothes she'll wear. We're wondering what her personality will be like and how she'll fit into our family. We're thinking about traveling and meeting her and how to introduce her to this crazy crew. We are blessed, we are excited. If you ask, I'll probably talk your ear off.

Peace. This one is the weirdest to me and hard to explain. But Sunshine is being cared for at a fantastic orphanage. With people who truly love her. I go to bed at night in peace because I know she is being loved, fed, cared for. She has a strong attachment to her caregivers and they to her. While one would think this would make me anxious and jealous, I'm not. I feel incredible, soul-centering peace. In all my prayers for my child before I knew who she was, I prayed she was safe and loved, even if she was hungry. God answered that prayer in abundance putting her in the care of life-long friends. Just thinking about His goodness in this makes my eyes well up with tears.

Tired. I'm tired. These emotions are exhausting. Eric and I stay up late at night talking about Sunshine, our kids and us and what we know and how we feel. I fall asleep at night praying for her, dreaming about her, imagining her life now and what it will be. We still have a long journey ahead of us, lots of things to figure out and do, but the rest of life marches on with school and work and home.

It is interesting going through this dance, both the here and there, the now and the not yet.

So, there you have it. I told you it was complicated.

But it's a beautiful dance.

Promises

For the past months, I have seen this progression in my own spirit. For the past few days, I have worked hard to say, "God has done it--and it is a beautiful thing!" But I have no idea what God has done yet. Truly, these are hard words to say....

But, we are trying to rest in the knowledge that this has been in God's hands all along. He has always had this journey, even up to this point.

And now, here we are, just a few days away from the meeting (on Wednesday the 20th, if you needed the reminder) that will, one way or another, determine the direction and look of this family. Although we have been waiting for a really long time, this is just the start of our "pregnancy". This meeting is our "ultrasound" where we see real little people for our family. We still have a long period of waiting before we get to hold them in our arms and bring them home.

I can't really tell you when we're going to know anything or when we'll be able to tell you. Actually, chances are good that by the time our day is officially rolling at our house, the meeting will be happening or over. But who knows when the news will reach us.

Today, God used the Sunday school lesson I taught to remind me. Together we learned again about how God keeps his promises: all of them, all the time. Even though the Israelites were scared about the Promised Land, they grumbled and complained about it, and they were punished for their grumbling, God still provided Manna every single day. His promises are good. His promises are true.

And this is my promise to you, faithful friend. We will let you know. At some point, you will share in our joy or our disappointment, as you have shared in our journey thus far. We just don't know when. Please be patient, if you think the waiting is killing you, think of what it's doing to us. And say an extra prayer. It could be a few days.

Already, we can say together:

Shouts of joy and victory

    resound in the tents of the righteous:

“The Lord’s right hand has done mighty things!

¹⁶ 

    The Lord’s right hand is lifted high;

    the Lord’s right hand has done mighty things!”

^17 . 

(Psalm 118:15-16)

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Status Report Mr. Spock. . .

This blog has been silent a lot lately. 

So I thought it was time to break silence with a bit of a status report. 

But let's back up a bit to see where we are. Exactly 17 months ago, Eric and I decided to go forward and begin proceedings on a sibling adoption from Lesotho. We are still currently waiting for there to be a matching meeting where our dossier will be matched with a waiting sibling set. We have no idea when this meeting could be. It could be next week, could be next year. 

About 10 months ago, Eric was asked to consider applying for a new job. He did--got the job and started it at the end of April. 

Since these two things have happened (or not happened), our lives have been turned completely upside down. There really is no other way to describe these past few months. We've combined the major, life-changing actions of job change with the emotional up-and-down process of an adoption. We have been totally changed, yet I have a difficult time explaining exactly how. 

About the time that we were considering the new job, I heard a song that changed my perspective. This job came with a significant cut in pay. As we were struggling with what that would look like, I heard this song (Choose song #7--Enough) by Shaun Groves. 

The text is from Proverbs 30:7-9 and reads like this:

Two things I ask of you, Lord;
    do not refuse me before I die:
⁸ Keep falsehood and lies far from me;
    give me neither poverty nor riches,
    but give me only my daily bread. 
⁹ Otherwise, I may have too much and disown you
    and say, ‘Who is the Lord?’ 
Or I may become poor and steal,
    and so dishonor the name of my God.

And in that moment, that was my prayer, that whatever happened we would have enough. Primarily, at that time, my concern was money. Just enough money to pay our bills and pay adoption expenses. (Side note: my dad once told me that such prayers were foolish--now I understand what he meant, not to not pray them, but that they often have results that we could never imagine.)

But instead in these months of transition, waiting, uncertainty, and change, God has given us only enough of everything. 

• Enough failure to make us dependent on Him and each other;
• Enough (barely) sleep and coffee to make us function;
• Enough hope (but not much) that someday this adoption will actually happen;
• Enough friends and family supporting us to know that God has hands and feet to carry us when we need it; 
• Enough money to meet our requirements (but my definition of enough seems to be more differ slightly from God's).

And we've been fortunate to have our eyes opened that in some powerful, life-changing ways, he's given more than enough:

      -More grace and forgiveness than I have ever deserved

      -More blessings in the form of the love & joy of my family than I had ever realized

So what's our status? To be honest, we're hanging in there. Some days are smooth and easy, some days we want to throw in every towel we have, hunker down inside our home and close our ears and eyes to the world, some days we want to quit--because waiting is hard and emotional and there are no easy answers, no clear paths and life was easier then. 

How are we going to make it? Simple, we wait--wait for God and his provision and timing and grace. We wake up each morning and thank God for the day that we are given and use it to his glory, whether in the workplace or in our home. We pray for ourselves, our family, and our kids waiting to come home. We keep our eyes open to the magnificent ways God blesses us in every single season, day, hour and minute (even when we don't always understand). 

And we will remember, no matter how we feel, that God is a good God

All the time. 

Because you can worship anywhere. . .

I can't dance.

It's sad, but true.

In fact, I've never had the chance to dance. Well, sorta. The conservative school I attended forbid dancing (we got to sit through banquets), I didn't go to concerts, I've never been to a club. And at all the weddings and functions I've attended in my adult life, well, there are always VERY interesting people to talk to!

This is not to say that I don't want to dance. I do! In fact, I have a hard time not responding to music. I think I look a little (or a lot) silly sometimes. For example, when I dropped the kids off at gymnastics this afternoon, there was some music on. And it was fun music. And I pretended to dance to it. And someone commented that it was "nice." And I promptly stopped all pretend dancing.

Honestly, I am moved by music. But by now, I feel I'm too old to dance without looking like an idiot. So I will keep my sweet moves in my head. Unless I am with a group of children who love it when people look silly--then I am in my perfect element.

However, I am becoming more convinced and ready for Heaven in this one way. There, at the foot of the throne of my King, I will be able to throw off the constraints of this world and dance for Him!

What in the world would inspire this?

This weekend, my daughters participated in their annual ballet recital. They dance in the little kid's programs at Hearts in Step Dance. And HIS is unabashedly and unashamedly Christian in its focus and practice. So this weekend, I was invited to dance in the presence of my King. I watched as girls (and one brave boy) danced for Jesus. Some laid their crowns before him, others lifted their arms in praise, a few just stood there and stared into the crowd. It was so sweet and pure. It was a holy time.

In that auditorium, I watched as Olivia danced the proclamation that:

"I am a true princess, a daughter of the King,
I have a royal Purpose, 'cause Jesus is my everything."

I watched Katie and her small class dance to the song Blessings. Their teacher told them that their dance to Blessings was so that they could be a blessing to someone. And these girls took that to heart.

And every year, the program ends with "The Revelation Song" and a stage full of dancers in dresses the color of the rainbow. And the words echoed by the movement transport me to the throne room of God where we will all, one day, proclaim

"Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God almighty
Who was and is and is to come.
With all creation I sing
Praise to the King of Kings,
You are my everything
And I will adore you!"

As unexpected as it is, almost every time, I am transported beyond that auditorium, pricked by the presence of the Holy Spirit, and worship. It is a sweet, Holy time.

And my girls are pretty great too!

On Purpose Thankfulness

Today is one of those days: where I am tired and whiny in both my private thoughts and speech. It's annoying to others and to me. So I am trying very hard to be thankful, knowing that sometimes my true attitude follows the actions of my mouth. With that in mind, I am listing the things that I have noticed this morning that have given me a moment of beauty, thankfulness, and have been a reminder of God's great grace for me. .

• Kids laughing together on the trampoline.
• The lilacs that are in bloom. I love lilacs!
• The clothes hanging on the line and that I had *almost* enough clothespins to hang them all.
• The realization that I have more pictures of myself as a young child than I had previously thought. 
• Eric made it to the bus on time. 
• A day warm enough to wear shorts.
• The promise of a meal that I don't have to cook in the company of good friends tonight. 
• A second cup of coffee fixed just the way I like it.
• A committee I have been on for the past two years completed its task last night!
• I successfully re-purposed an ugly old wreath into a front door decoration that makes me smile every time I look at it. 

I'm going to hold onto these. If I add any more to the list, I will be doing it just to add more to the its or because I feel I should (you know, I should list my thankfulness for healthy kids, a great job for Eric, a home for us to live in and food to eat, all of which often go without saying). 


And to temporarily remedy the whiny, I'm going to go cut some of those blooming lilacs for my dining room. 

Remembering Mrs. Meadows

My High School English teacher passed away last night. She flew from a body that was sick and broken into the arms of Jesus.

Today, I have been watching as past classmates of mine have left notes of remembering and grief on Facebook. And it has been sweet to remember.

Of all the wonderful teachers I had during my many years at ICS (Intermountain Christian School) in Salt Lake, Mrs. Janice Meadows is the one I remember the most. Oh sure, I can remember Mr Benson teaching chemistry or editing the school yearbook with Mr. Gutman or even trying to pay attention in AP Calculus with Ms. Schaeffer. But Mrs. Meadows. . .well, she impacted my life in so many ways.

First of all, I can still see how her classroom was set up--with all the desks facing the chalkboard, her desk in the back and her wonderful bookshelf full of books just waiting to be read. I spent much time in front of those bookshelves trying to decide what book to read next. I can see her sitting at her desk while we all tried to figure out how to cut out all our "it is" and "there was" from our essays. I remember the 5 step revision process and I can still see being handed back an essay that I thought was pretty good that was literally covered with red ink.

She helped me to fall in love with classic literature, diagramming sentences, and the well-chosen word. She got me my first real teaching job tutoring 2 twins in grammar over summer vacation. (Man, I love grammar!) Through her classes I read Beowulf, Les Miserables, hordes of English literature, and even some American literature. One Friday she told us our next book was "A Prayer for Owen Meaney." I went to the bookstore that night and bought it. Over the weekend I devoured it. On Monday morning she announced a different book because a parent had complained about questionable content. I was very disappointed and a little confused.

In her classes and through her teaching I learned that I love to write, to express thoughts, ideas, and emotions with the written word, that I love story. She helped me discover the path that I am currently traveling.

I can still hear her voice and see her red marks as I write today. I cringe with every "there was" that I write because I know it is lazy, boring writing. And because of this one sweet woman, I will strive to do better.

Thank you Mrs. Meadows, for you inspired me and countless others to do our best, to not settle for lazy, uninspired words.

Reflecting on 2010

Our new year is already 3 days old! Wow, time sure flies. I know that I am a person who will forget what happened yesterday unless I purposefully try to recall and remember it. Even more so with the year that just passed.

So I am a fan of purposeful reflection.

Last night, along with my small group, I engaged in some reflection on the events, moments, and things of 2010. It was wonderful, not only to spend some time thinking on last year, but also to hear how others saw their year and each of us were changed. We worked from a list of 20 guiding questions, but only got through a few. Below I am going to post some of the best questions and my responses. Maybe you should take some time to think of the answers in your own life. Knowing where we have been and what we have experienced helps us to know who we are right now.

What was the biggest think you learned this past year?
    I learned about food. More than I ever wanted to know: what is in it, how it affects me, what God intended. New ways to think about food, what it means to be nourished and contented, how to shop, prepare, plan, and cook. And there is a lot more I still am working on learning.

What was the best way you used your time this past year?
    Beyond a shadow of a doubt, the time that I spend with my kids is the best way I spend my time. Teaching, talking, playing, learning together, instructing. And even though sometimes I may complain (a bit) I wouldn't give it away or trade it for anything!
What was your single biggest time waster in your life this past year?
   Facebook (that was an easy answer),

In what way(s) did you grow in your relationships with others?
    This one is hard for me to answer, but I would say that learning transparency and honesty in relationships, especially in my small group was a growing for me.

Pick three words to describe 2010.
   Food
   Practicing Contentment
 
What were the best books you read this year?
     I have read so many (many of which I have forgotten). But the ones that I haven't forgotten:
    Cutting for Stone (Verghese), The Odyssey (Homer, transl. Fagles) and the Old Testament (seriously, I love the OT. And I'm reading it in The Message translation. Fantastic.)

What was the single best thing that happened this past year?    This was a hard one. But if I had to choose only one,  it was hearing each of my kids saying ," I love you, Jesus."