It's Alive! It's ALIVE!

I am alive and well on Planet Earth. However, I am in the process of compiling some of my post, and it has literally consumed all of my time. Please continue to visit. I will begin updating again very soon.

Melik

March 25, 2014 The first time I saw my son was on a Tuesday afternoon. I am not certain of that, however, Tuesday seems to embody: normal, average, day. My oldest daughter and I had returned the day before from seeing my brother in Brussells, Belgium. We were so jet lagged. My husband and I had a week left until our Foster care license would expire. Honestly, we were waiting for it to run out. Our four daughters were keeping us plenty busy. We had discussed adopting again, but honestly, Greg was already working two jobs and our house was bursting at the seams. Abby and I awoke from our slumber and decided to make a Starbucks run. As I was driving down our main street in town, my phone rang. You guessed it. Our case worker, and friend, was calling to see if we would be open to a two week long placement. “It’s a boy!” she said. “And he’s African American,” which we had requested on our profile. Parenting black children, one who was markedly darker than the other, had convinced us that we should be specific on this application. “He’s been with a family member for two weeks and he’s four months old. Our plan is to clear another family member for placement.” Wow. So we would be this little guy’s 3rd home in his short little life. “Ok. Well, let me call Greg.” Before I go into the phone call, let me give you some insight into the way we think and live. It has been the norm in our almost 20 years together, that we have not had to have long, drawn-out, discussions over major events in in our marriage. The big decisions seem to come to us already made. We can have a “ruin your date night” discussion over where to eat, bringing stray dogs into the house until the pound can pick them up, or my anxiety over his driving. As to buying houses, cars, adopting children; not so much. I do see the irony, or lunacy, in this as I type it. However, it is what it is. So I call Greg and say, “Here’s the deal, blah, blah, blah, what do you think?” He says, “Well, he’s 4 months old so he’ll sleep a lot, which will allow homeschooling to not be interrupted. I think that sounds good. And, it’s only for two weeks! What do you think?” I said, “Yeah, I think we should be alright.” Now, for those of you who over-spiritualize how this works, there is little time for prayer in these moments. The praying has to be something that is being done before and consistently. Like breathing in and out. Emma, our case worker, needed to find a home for him quickly. He was being moved out of his first placement because it was proving to be a threatening environment. So my final words to Greg were, “Ok, I am calling her now so don’t call me in thirty minutes and say you’ve changed your mind.” He assured me that that would not happen. And that was that. My two older daughters and I drove down town and rode the elevator to the 4th floor. We told the receptionist that we would like to see Case Worker X. She came out and we told her that we were going to be the foster family and we wondered if we could see him. She told me that she would be bringing him to our house in a couple of hours but she would let us see him. She disappeared behind a glass and came back holding this little bitty baby. Melik weighed 9 pounds at 4 months old. My oldest daughter was 9.5 at birth. By 4 months, she was like a toddler. He had new born eyes and a soft, silky, head full of hair. He was still curled-up, as if someone had just unwrapped him in-utero. He was someone else’s son, and although I was taking everything in, I was just the babysitter. Short-term at that. He will never know me or have any memory of me. I will be a link in the chain of healthy-attachment. He came to our home shortly after that. Some of his clothes were in a duffel bag and others were in the Luv’s diaper box. He had a bear that his aunt had sent with him that said The Lord’s Prayer. He was precious. We signed all of the paper work stating that we would do everything that we had been trained to do, and the case worker left. Several days passed and real life set in. I began to wear Melik. I would tie him on the front of my body in the morning, and unless I was driving or in the shower, that is where he stayed. After all of his records had been transferred to our pediatrician, which was his 3rd, I discovered that he had been born 2 months early. His first home was the NICU where he lived for his first 8 weeks. After going home, for a month and a half, he was removed and placed with his aunt for the next two weeks. And now he would be with us until his new home could prepare. You know, all removals are not the same. His mom truly loved him, and loves him, to the best of her ability. However, she mentally could not shoulder the responsibility of a child. She should have never been in this situation. She was not protected properly. Yet through this turn of events is born a beautiful little boy. Her son. I cannot forget to tell you about the Skype call we had with my mom who was still in Brussells. She would not be returning to the States for another week. She and my brother’s family answered our call thinking that we would be checking in to report about our flight home. When we told them that we had a surprise for them, something we wanted to show them, they were expecting a ferret. You know, I hate rodents or anything resembling rodents. One of my children became fixated on the idea of getting a ferret while I was overseas. Every call was about this ferret and the leash that she was told that she could walk him with. She had this entire life planned around this loving, and playful, rodent. That being said, when Melik’s little face came on the screen they began to laugh and coo at the same time. Around the third week we begin to hear that the family was not panning out as anticipated. Contrary to popular belief, there are lots of details that go into placement. Although not a perfect system, our experience with CPS has been positive. CASA was heavily involved in home visits, as well as CPS. It was a consensus that he not be moved. Weekly visits were now happening. I would take him, drop him off for an hour, and the case worker would bring him home. This was proving to be more difficult for me, emotionally, because I had bonded with this child. It is so taxing to keep these boundaries in place. Why should anyone have the right to tell me when he can get a haircut? I’m raising him. Why would anyone care what kind of clothes he wears to a visit? They are clean and new. Who has the audacity to question what he’s eating? I’m not just giving him the right kind of formula, but he’s finally gaining weight. All of these uncensored thoughts flooded my mind daily. Me. The foster parent. After months of trying unsuccessfully to keep him with his biological family, word came that we would have the opportunity to adopt him. This was a fantastic day in my life. I honestly felt as if the Lord was blessing me with too great a gift. One main event that I will never forget, as long as I live, was the day that Greg and I sat down with Melik’s birthmother and talked. We were in a small room with case workers, CASA workers, me and Greg, and his birthmom. She was a noticeably nervous. She had the mental capacity of an 11 year old, maybe. With assistance, she had written a list of questions for us. She wanted to know if we were to adopt him if we would let him wear t-shirts that had cartoon characters on them. She was curious about our daughters. She liked the fact that Greg was a Pastor because she wanted Melik to be “raised up Christian.” She also wanted Melik to remain his name. Her Grandmother liked that name and wanted that name to be used. I promised her that his name would remain. We took pictures together and hugged. When she left the room it was completely silent. Several reading this blog were there and can attest to this. I bowed my head and allowed the locked up emotions to come out. The gravity of what was taking place in that moment was so overwhelming. Shortly after that meeting, I got a phone call that she was there wanting to relinquish her rights as his legal parent. The day that she stood before the Judge to say that this was her decision, was another monumental day. We had a long break so she and I decided to go have lunch. We went to Sonic and grabbed some burgers. On the way back to the courthouse, Bill Wither’s came on the radio singing, “Ain’t no Sunshine.” She sang at the top of her lungs. Innocent as a child, she sang freely and passionately. And I became engulfed in emotion as she sang. She rocked slowly, forward and backward, singing, and feeling whatever it was that she was feeling. I was wondering what she might be thinking about and how things might have been different for her. I was wondering what I was feeling. I knew then that she would always be a significant part of our son’s life and our life, too. And I felt again the sting of adoption. What was redemptive in my eyes, from my perspective, was a jail sentence to her. She, in spite of her limitations, loved him. And he would call me Mommy. This has proven to be a difficult scenario as he still sees her. However, it is one that we are willing to push through because it is important and we have given her our word. We finalized our adoption shortly after, on my 40th birthday. So today, Gregory Amos Melik Fields, on your 3rd birthday, here is MY prayer for You: I pray that you will know that you have always been loved. From birth until now, you are fiercely loved and treasured by two sets of parents. I pray that you will always honor your Mother. Both of them. I pray that you will grow to be a strong man of God who breaks the patterns of previous generations. I pray that you will live with the same passionate, freedom that your birth mom sang with. And I pray, that like your Daddy, you will not sweat the big stuff…because we would have missed out on so much joy if he had!

Yukon Men

I am addicted to other people’s lives. I must confess, I love to watch people and see how they live. When roaming around Facebook looking at pics I find myself always looking past the object in view to see the background. A person’s house, chairs, laundry and blankets; all of this is so fulfilling to me. It seems to paint a more robust story. And if I look at a picture that appears staged, I don’t want to look at that person’s pictures any more. Bizarre, I know. I seem to enjoy looking at situations that normalize my life. It’s easy to idealize other people’s lives and homes by looking at masked snapshots through social media. In the idealizing I can believe that my circumstances are marginal because I don’t have a turquoise Kitchen Aid mixer. I recently watched a show about two families who are completely self-sustaining in Alaska’s wild frontier. It was fascinating. I loved when we were given glimpses into their homes. One young couple amazed me. They had minimal “things” in their house. There was an altar. I’m assuming they are Buddhist. Vibrant colors plastered the walls. Herbs hung in the simple windows. The underground cellar was so unique. In it they kept all of their freshly canned meats, fruits, and vegetables. They also smoked hundreds of pounds of fish that they had caught, in a short three month period. That fish would sustain them through the nine months of hard winter. Greg and I sat there dumbfounded. He looked at me and said, “There’s no way that we would survive there.” I answered back with an affirmative, “Right.” Disappointment swept through our house when the last episode was watched. Much to our surprise there was yet another Alaskan reality show. Yukon Men was similar but it focused on a community of people as opposed to individuals. One episode confirmed our belief that we would die in a day if left alone in the icy outback. The last episode we watched focused on a dad and his 14 year old son. The son looked exactly like the kid from the animated movie Brother Bear. The father goes to him and tells him that they are in need of more meat. He then tells the kid that there has been a bear spotted a couple of miles up the road and ask him if he knows how to use the gun. Come again? We were freaking out. Did he just ask his son, who is as old as our oldest daughter, if he could hunt down a black bear, by himself, and kill it? The boy responds by saying soberly, “Yes sir. I’m going to make you proud.” I used to be 14 and I dunno, but no. The dad has his 30 second sound bite where he looks into the camera and explains that living in Alaska is difficult and laborious. He says something to the effect of, “We all have to work together here or we won’t survive, and he knows this (referring to his son), because it’s how he’s been raised.” I have had this episode on my mind for about a month now. Managing 5 growing children is difficult. Some do it better than others (me). However, it’s my first time to do it! One of the reasons that we chose to open our home to the fostering process was because we had an easy life. We were raising two kids in a safe, comfortable, environment and I remember thinking, “This will be a way for our whole family to share in the suffering of another.” I had absolutely no idea what I was talking about. We were extremely naïve and young. Julia Roberts in August: Osage County says, “It’s a good thing we don’t know the future. None of us would ever get out of bed.” My dad had a phrase that he used to say to me and Greg when we were first married: “You two are going to live on love and starve to death.” His point? It takes more than love to survive marriage. The same is true in raising children. It takes more than desire to parent. It takes more than a desire to ‘help the kid from a hard place’. A camp high will not be enough to sustain your desire while sharing in the suffering of a kid with fetal alcohol syndrome. I have days, like every parent I’m sure, when I feel desperate. I do not want to think about how things are going to turn out in some situations, however, to avoid those thoughts seems irresponsible. To not go down the road a little way, in order to divert the direction or destroy the path, is to choose my own comfort over the healing and protection of my child. However, to go down that road means that I must engage emotionally and relationally in ways that are horribly uncomfortable for me. And what is harder? I have to choose to engage in these thoughts and actions when things are calm and manageable so that I have the energy to change, prepare, and parent my children rationally and thoughtfully. If not, we will all starve when the first snow storm blows in. Sitting in the Psychiatrist office today I felt alone. I had a child that did not feel like talking about hard things because it would lead to feeling more difficult emotions. What set her off? She didn’t get a doll that she wanted. After she decided to go into the office I sat against the wall, beside a fake plant, looking at the dust that covered the bottom half of the sofa table. My eye hurt and my stomach was revolting. I prayed silently, “Lord, we never have an easy day. I’m so exhausted. Please help my kids. They never get an easy day either.” I know that easy is relative, but truly, it’s never easy. Oh my. I do not want to be that mom. God, save me from myself. On the drive home my older child sat in the back seat and played dolls with my younger child. This de-escalated an already 5 hour long episode. She was not begging to do this nor did I make her. But, guess what. She did it because she knew. She knew what many other kids her age do not. She knew that her 20 minute engagement would provide an evening of peace. She lives with a kid from a hard place. She recognizes dilated pupils, sullen expressions, and vacant responses. She knows that her sister does not have the capacity to work through disappointments like she should. She loves her sister. She does not remember a time without her. I felt like a wet wash cloth on the drive home. I was heavy, used up, and ready to be rung out. I feel like I always hear Story in the weirdest places. This time: One Direction. Really. The kids were in the back role playing with their Barbies when the song began. “Written in these walls are the stories that I can't explain I leave my heart open but it stays right here empty for days She told me in the morning she don't feel the same about us in her bones It seems to me that when I die these words will be written on my stone. Written on these walls are the colors that I can't change Leave my heart open but it stays right here in its cage I know that in the morning I'll see us in the light upon your ear Although I am broken, my heart is untamed still The story of my life I take her home I drive all night to keep her warm and time is frozen The story of my life I give her hope I spend her love until she's broke inside The story of my life” I am unable to explain how fitting this song is for someone parenting a child that they feel they cannot reach. But I know that you know. Because we all have these moments. Later that night, I thought back over the last nine years and how far we had come. I talked to my child who had had the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. She asked me what was wrong with her brain. She knows that her thoughts are like a torn apart jigsaw puzzle. I told her, “I don’t think you have a brain problem.” With her hand in mine, and her black eyes staring into me, I told her the truth. “The truth is: You have a heart problem. Your heart has been sad for a very long time.” One, little, tear pushed and fought its way to the corner of her eye and rolled effortlessly down her cheek. We talked for about five minutes, as something else had already sucked her into its centrifuge. “Squirrel!” When she left I sat on the little couch at the foot of my bed. It is tattered, torn, and comfortable. It keeps lots of secrets. I just sat there realizing how much I love this child. My mind was racing with scenes from the past. Running, escaping, yelling, fighting, pushing away, spitting, and destroying. She has no memory of any of this. Then my thoughts poll vaulted into the present. Sitting, talking, spontaneously saying, “I love you, Mommy.”, reading well, questioning God, trusting God, and finding her voice. We are more than survivors. We have done more than “weathered well” over the past decade. We have conquered. We have shown Light into dark places. We have stalked the bear and shot it.

I will give you a new name...

I have been wanting to post this for quiet some time and I just couldn't carve out the time to do so. We have been so blessed this year to have had only four hospitalizations with Ellie. Compared to the first year when we were hospitalized 12 times, four is great. Compared to many, our road has been easy. I try, not in an effort to minimize what we're going through but rather in a way to frame it, to remind myself that their are parents every hour who leave the hospital without their children. It seems to help me remain sober and balanced. I do have overwhelming moments, however, when I feel like I am disparing. Once, while at the hospital, I had an extremely vivid dream. i was driving with a friend and all of our children. We were in a convertible, that was also a van. During our conversation, i accidentally drove off of the side of the mountain/cliff that we were driving around. To say it was scary would be an understatement. I had the sensation that I was free falling. The kids were screaming and I knew that this was it. We were all facing an emminant death. i woke up sweating and holding on for dear life, preparing for impact. My fears and feelings reveal themselves, always. At Worship the following Sunday, I was exhausted. One of our Elders always greets us by saying, "Shaloam". He has explained on several occassions that Shaloam is more than peace. It means complete peace, wholeness, fulness, contentment and rest. It is the peace of God. Shortly after the service, Ellie came to me doubled over in pain needing to be re-admitted. I really don't even know what words to use to express what I was feeling but it was not peace. The other children were crying, as Ellie and I began our 55 mile pilgrimage of pain. I was so discouraged. I had not eaten all day and I knew that we would have a long wait before being admitted. I told Ellie that I had to get a burger and promised to hurry. At this point, my brain was mush. I pulled through and the young man began to up-sale by suggesting 1,500 items I could add to my order. I pulled forward, in the zone, wishing our situation was different. He leaned out the window with my burger and drink. I gave him my card and glanced at his name tag. "Excuse me. Is that your name?" Somewhat embarrassed he answered, "Yes." I said, "Well, I'm so glad your parents gave you that name." His name was Shaloam. I drove away in awe that God had sent me a reminder that I could rest in His complete peace. Several months had passed and honestly, this momentous event had sadly, slipped my mind. We were having a good run. Ellie had been in hospital several more times since the Drive-Through epiphany. She had one stay during September, but all of October was calm. Her pain began to elevate around the first week of November and it was looking like we were going to go to the hospital. Sure enough, the second week rolled around and we were back in the car. Suprisingly, I was great. Laid back, "we got this", all is smooth. Three days later we were coming home. I was so happy that we would be home for Thanksgiving. It was drama free and fun. Then Saturday rolled in bringing with it a horrible case of pancreatitis. We managed the pain at home for the first several days. By mid-week it was too much to bear. All of the kids were upset. It is never a seamless transition. Everything is affected when we are gone. Yes, we have had the talks about how this is the "new norm" and life has to go on...but the reality of living that is different. There is anger and bitterness,constant schedule changes and the game must go on minus two players. We got in the car to leave. I was driving and Ellie was laying down in the back seat. There was road construction going on and it took us an hour to get to Fate. That drive should've taken 15-20 minutes. The entire drive was quiet, other than Ellie's cringes & cries. I am so weepy at this point but I am holding it in so as to not make the situation worse. I am wanting to pray but i cannot. I am feeling nothing but frustration and sadness. Sad that I am not at home with our entire family entact. Frustrated that I have to enfringe on everyone elses schedule for my children to be cared for in my absence. And, not wanting Ellie to feel guilty that her illness has caused this. At this point, her pain has kicked into high gear, and for those of you who understand what that means-it's not fun. Ellie throws up from the severity of the pain. It's alot like having a miagrain and throwing up in the middle of that. Well, in the rush of leaving I forgot to grab a gag-bag. "I'll go through the Drive-Through at Starbucks and ask for a bag." I told her. Fighting back tears I silently pray, "Lord, I don't even know how to pray. I don't know what to say or do." I pulled through the drive and ordered an Americano. When we pulled up the guy could see Ellie in the back seat laying down and not well. "Any chance you could give me a couple of bags?" He obviously knew what I was needing them for. He gave me a crooked smile and hurried to get the bags. He doubled the bags up and handed them to me. Leaning out of the window, I saw his name tag and begin to weep. Judah. His name was Judah. Praise the Lord. Pulling away, I asked to Ellie, "Did you see his nametag?" She quietly whispered, "No." "Well," I began. "His name was Judah. That means Praised. Ellie, God sees YOU. God sees ME. He always sends us reminders that He is here with us. Even in suffering- He is to be praised." I am so thankful for the encouragement that God gives to me. Some days, I am too weak to lift the Bible from the table, to read the Words that my tired bones are in desperate need of. Even then, He is with me. Some Sundays I cannot participate in corporate worship because someone is sick or we are in the hospital, and still God is with me. I must press on and lean in to the Truth that I confess!

rest.

it was so nice to get to go away this weekend with a friend. i actually slept through the night last night. my kids are not great sleepers. it seems like every night i am awakened by at least one of them. it's not fun. however, as they get older they seem to make up for all of their lost sleep and want to hibernate for days. as i am reflecting on the past two days i am thoughtful of tomorrow. as believers, we begin our week with Rest. yes, we start our week with Rest and we live the remainder of the week with an eye and heart to "entering our Rest" again with the approaching week. REST. it means so much to me right now. when i was growing up, different leaders would say, "you come to church to perform for an audience of One." i understood that they were saying, "don't worry about others around you. just worship the Lord who sees you." the problem, however, is this- We come to Worship to see God perform. He is speaking. He is giving us gifts (communion, baptism, community). His Glory is on display. We even worship as receivers. Thanks be to God! So tomorrow morning, as you get the kids dressed, fed, listen to the arguing that comes naturally in families, grab your coffee, and as you run out the door, remember- it is worth it. Why? Because the God of the universe, the One who formed you and chose you, says, "Come unto Me & I will GIVE you REST."

mixed emotions

happy & weird. we are so happy for one of our girls who heard her birth mom's voice for the first time in her life yesterday. she said, "i'm a little nervous since i've never met her in my...well...entire life...ever." if you are a parent imagine what it would be like to hear your baby's voice for the first time as a 9 year old. it's a little overwhelming to think about. it was a sweet conversation. when her mother answered the phone i said, "she's a little nervous to talk to you...ok? but she's just going to ask you a bunch of questions. are you o.k.," i asked. "Well, i'm nervous too." she said. i handed our daughter the phone before i lost my composure. it is a little surreal to hear your child tell the God-ordained woman, who chose to give her life and not abort her, that she "would need to ask her parents before she could meet her face-to-face." it's such a messy world. but thanks be to God that He is already all we need. sad. we are so sad for another daughter who was crushed by her own sadness in realizing that her birth mom is not in a place where she can make contact right now. she pretended for a moment that she was her birth mom and tried to imagine why she was unable to make this connection. "maybe she's scared," she said. "maybe she has other kids." "maybe she..." she searched for reasons. "what do you think we can do about this?" her daddy asked. "maybe we can pray for her." she stated -feeling defeated and alone. "maybe we can call the agency again." sounding a tad more hopeful. the sad fact, however, is that she knows that their is a mom- her mom-that she has never seen. as she, my insightful 7 year old, says, "imagine you were born and you never got to open your eyes and see her face." those words, from her, make my heart implode. heavy and crushing. no matter the circumstances...i wish she could see her. there is no way to prepare yourself for the emotions that you feel on the journey of adoption. you can prepare for it about the same way you prepare for a traumatic birthing/c-section experience. a lot of techniques and ideas. they are helpful but still lacking. we are doing things now that we swore we would never do. why? because it is best for our children. inconvenient? yes. messy? yes. best? yes.

Let's have lunch.

(This is a little difficult to read-for some reason it is not saving my spacing and paragrahs! sorry...it all smashed together! BOO!) Many arguments have flooded my mind this week. There have been numerous discussions amoung my peers, around the table, in the aisle of the market and on the phone. I have been wondering what I would really feel free to write once i sat in front of this computer. I have yet to find a topic that people are more opinionated on than home education. I have to be honest: For the life of me, I cannot figure out why this is such a hot topic. As i sit here, legs crossed, in the middle of my couch, i am staring at pictures of my five children. Three of these are children that my husband and I sought out. We took hours of classes, spent alot of money for homestudies and took cpr/first aid classes. We went through state agencies to secure their adoptions. WE are their parents. Our other two have benifitted from the education that we received through this process. So, all of their little faces are gazing upon me as i write this. They are ultimately our responsibility. We never intended on home-educating our children. In fact I remember using words like, "cruel, unnatural, and isolating" in regard to this idea. I have heard words such as, "weird, dorky, anti-social, and a**holes" as of late. The idea seems to infuriate some and baffle others. Why would someone choose this form of education? Why would someone deny their child access to the public system and the opportunity to interact with other kids and diverse ideas? This blog will not address any of those questions. We have chosen the responsibility of educating our children in the way that we think is best for all of them. So have you. If you are a parent your child's education is your responsibilty. You may not give it much thought. You may think that you're doing the only thing that you can do. You may not care. You may be thrilled and content with what you have chosen...Great! It is your responsibilty. We have had our children in every scenario and have had good experiences in all of them. Our reasons for home-educating are far more complex than thinking "we can meet all of our child's needs." Here is the issue: What compells an individual to give their unsolicited opinion, to me, about my decision to educate my children at home? It happens almost weekly. Teaching your children at home is not what you think. Yes, we have a plan. We have a curriculum. We complete our work and we grade our work. But we, my family, do not sit in desk. Where do your children sit when they do their homework? Well, it functions quite the same way in our house. Ellie has her 2 week assignment sheet for all of her studies. English, Math, Reading & Writing. She is also reading a book and taking notes on Texas History. She is slowly working her way through a Classical Cursive book that i am forcing her to complete. :) sound familiar? Her current library series is "A Series of Unfortunate Events". Most of her work is done in her room, under her loft bed, with her laptop. She is also in gymnastics. Abby is home three days a week and attends a university model school two days a week. She is currently in Worldviews, Latin 1 (which includes History) & Math. She is reading The Deadliest Monster - which compares and contrast the two previous books, Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and Frankenstien. Next year she is registered for Latin 2, Pre Algebra and Spanish 1. She will begin Omnibus, through veritaspress.com with several other friends in the fall. She is in competitive cheer and DI. In many ways, she is just like your 13 year old. She is learning how to interact with the world. She is insecure about her height and she gets her braces off next week. The only difference is that she does her school work in a different venue. She usually sits at her desk, in her room, facing a big window. She has her own computer too - which has served us well. She burns the midnight oil weekly completing projects or preparing for test. The little girls (1st & 2nd grade) do exactly what you imagine. We read, read, read. We write, sing, color & cook. They play together all day. We meet with two other families every Monday for Geography and Missions. My goal with all of the girls, has always been, for everyone to be on target by 3rd grade. IF this is a reasonable goal for them. We usually sit at the dining room table for writing & Math. However, Lucy Grace likes to open all of the blinds on the 4 tall windows surrounding my bed and lay there, in the sun, to read. She has just started Charlott's Web. Why do I tell you all of this? I feel that their is a HUGE misunderstanding about what is, or is not, going on in the homes of home-school families. My kids have been interrogated in the grocery store, by other shoppers usually, about what they are doing in school. I am not saying that it is wrong to ask my kids if they are reading a fun book- but don't start quizzing them in the line at Walgreens. GEEZ! Don't assume that we are not doing anything -because most of our work can be completed in 3 hours. That leaves the remainder of the day for other things. My children are not geniuses and I am not a super mom because of this choice. It is okay if you have a strong opinion about "homeschoolers" because you had a "bad experience with some of them." The truth is: I have had bad experiences with public school kids AND private school kids AND home-school kids. However, when you tell me, in passing, where your kids go to school - i do not say, "Oh I don't agree with that!" really? on what planet does that make sense? I am not living for you. I have a friend who is of a different political persuasion than me. What i DID NOT say to her was, "How can you be that stupid? I don't agree with you being part of that Party. HOW can you be a Christian and support these people?" Rather, I asked if we could have lunch so that she could give me some insight into her way of thinking. Show me how SHE was viewing this. I would welcome an invitation like that any day. Maybe...just maybe....your view of education has been too narrow. it amazes me when traditional, brick & morter schools, switch to ipads or off campus educational options, it is viewed as innovative. lots of home-educated kids have been doing this for years and it's been looked at as "not good enough". We live in mobile, globally connected world. we are no longer an isolated, little, house on the prarie. not that their is anything wrong with that! we are contributing, active members of society who take education & community connected-ness seriously. We do not all home-school the same way or for the same reasons. Homeschooling is considered a private education in the State of Texas. That means that we are autonomous and choose our own curriculum. That means that if i am using a specific curriculum and i then place my child in a different school setting where a different curriculum is being used - my child will probably need time to adjust. It does not mean that they "don't know what they are doing BECAUSE they were homeschooled." Enough is enough. Some homeschool parents could say the same about their child's education after bringing them home from a traditional classroom. Let's try to believe that everyone is trying to do what they think is best for their child. It is not merely an indictment on your choice because I choose something different. If I HAD to narrow it down to our top 3 reasons for homeschooling they would be....

Catch up.

I have not posted in over a year. i have never typed those words before. i am constantly proofing commentary in my head...i feel like Will Ferrell in Stranger Than Fiction...constantly hearing the narration of his events. i have absolutely no idea why i am like this. maybe it is becaure i love being part of a Story. i mean...it amazes me that there is purpose and connection in everthing. Amos was adopted on my 40th birthday. wow. he is now 2 years old and into everything.shortly after his adoption everything seemed to go haywire for a while. ellie, my now 11 yr old, began a year of hospitalization. she was in Childrens Hospital 12 times in a year for 3-6 day stays at a time. we have since discovered that she has a genetic mutation. one little gene...that should produce a protien to protect her pancrease against pancreatitis...does not. she is on medicine now and has been home for 2 months. needless to say- we are beyond thankful. Life has gone from fast to furious since our oldest turned from 12 to 13. all of the activities and "well-rounding" can develop a life of it's own. pulling the reigns in and letting them out is a dance that we are learning like every other parent our age. i am so thankful that we are with her during the day, everyday. she does attend a university model school, two days a week, that has been such a blessing for the past two years. her DI team will go to Globals in about 3 weeks. i am really proud of her for working so hard. my two little girls are growing up too fast. lu & zoe are passionate about everything! i must say, they keep us all on our toes. they are such a joy. We are enjoying the day to day. We are loving our church...and God has blessed it with growth, families & life. we are busy all of the time. life with 5 kids is everything that you can imagine and more. we are very blessed. i cannot imagine life without any of my children. I am excited about several upcoming opportunities to teach on foster and adoptive care. because we live this in HD...i love the opportunities to share about our experience. God has really stretched me this year. He has, in many ways, shown me a crisper picture of my desire to hold on to "goods and kindred". i am ashamed of my lack of trust. i see my need for Him more clearly this year than the last.

Almost Amos.

i used to have a difficult time understanding the Biblical concept of "the now and the not yet." when we began our journey of adoption, and i must say-that's exactly what it's been: a journey- the clouds began to part for me. It is a very odd reality. to be living as a parent but to not really have the final say on anything concerning the child that you are parenting. it is an emotional roller coaster...even when you're prepared. living in the in-between is exhausting, testing, joyful, fulfilling and sad- all at the same time. knowing that we are nearing the end of our fostering and turning the corner to adoption is just the same. i want to use this post to pull back the curtain a bit. i have never found joy in a birth parent's final visit. this reality is a dichotomy. one can know all the facts about a situation and know that the child would be best in another home and still grasp the sad truth that a mother or father is saying goodbye to their child. walking away differently. some will never look back. others will. someone can be on drugs, be unable to parent, or mentally handicapped and still really love their child. it is very difficult for those of us who function somewhat normally to understand this...and i get that. however, we were made to live for more than any of us are living for! any of us, had we had different parents, an adult that didn't protect us, made a decision toward addiction or immorality, or a God that didn't save us- could be in the same position. and the odd thing is- when i look at my child and she asks me, "do YOU love my birth mom?" i have to answer "yes...because they are a part of you and i. love. you." God help me if i ever loose compassion for the mother or father of my child. that being said...WHY i have to have permission from a birthparent who has made 3 visits in 7 months if i can cut my foster child's hair will forever baffle me...really. when i hear people say, "i could never be a foster parent because i would cry when i lose the kids." it frustrates me. i have never typed that before because i feel like it will really hack people off. but it's true. that is exactly the type of person who needs to do foster care! these children need connection. and really- it is hard. not just when they leave...but while they are in your space. when you are taking them to visits and helping them learn how to live in community. the odd thing is- during all of this "difficulty"- you connect. you grow to love the child. therein lies the roller coaster. there is such a great desire for people to value and love the child as much as you do...and that doesn't always happen. and guess what- you carry that pain for them - just like you do with your birth children. in 2004, greg and i were discussing the possibility of opening our home. we had our idea of what we wanted. guess what- we didn't get a phone call for who we thought we were going to get. we got a call for a sibling set that was just a little younger than our girls. we had to decide quickly. i will NEVER forget the phone conversation we had concerning these kids. i remember us coming to a point of saying, "if our kids were in cps custody, and a couple like us was called (christians, mom stays home, modest house but enough space) and that couple said, 'well, we really had this other kind of kid in mind -so no' we would be devastated." thinking about these kiddos as if they were your own will truly change your perspective. it was through that foster placement that our third daughter came home to us. PTL for His sovereignty in spite of our stupidity. when those children showed up at our house we cried with them because they were so frightened. i am sure our case worker thought we were total whack jobs. and when she left we cried because we thought, "what did we just commit to?" But guess what- in two weeks everything seemed normal again...it just took a little time. when we got the phone call from a private agency concerning our fourth daughter i remember them telling me about the adoption cost and i replied, "reeeeally?" when i communicated our financial angst the sweet lady on the other end- she said, "do you have any savings?" to which i replied, "well, let me put it to you like this-my husband's birthday is this week and we are going out to eat at On The Border and that's a big deal for us...so no, not really." little did we know that the deacons at our church were going to believe that the foster care epidemic is the church's problem and offer to pay all of the legal fees and that a couple of days later the agency would grant us the adoption of our precious baby girl...that we thought was a boy! God worked all of that out without any of our help. SO after planning for 2 kids and maybe adopting one boy...we now had 4 girls. we doubled in less that a year! and now...we have a little guy whose entire status is changing right before our eyes...and he knows nothing of it. unbelievable. there are no words that due justice to this remarkable occurrence. he is almost amos and i am almost his mom. greg is almost his daddy. and four girls are almost his sisters. we are almost home...not yet...but almost!

Adoption is...

difficult.

we are in our 9th year of foster/adoptive care. i must say that we were completely ill-equipped to enter this ministry. i hope that you find encouragement and comfort in those words. seriously, if we can do it- anyone can. that being said-it's not for everyone. i have friends in the adoption world that will completely disagree with me on that point. they hold to the conviction that as long as they have an empty bed and there is a child that needs one- then they should adopt them. i am not criticizing their view because my friends who believe this way are not idiots. they are not uneducated. they just believe differently than i do.

today was by far the most difficult of all days.

when people say, "I've had my child since birth" so as to eliminate themselves from the difficulties concerning adoptees- they are naive. their child has been carried in the body of another woman for 9 months. they share the same everything. they have the same neurochemistry, same DNA, they have eaten the same foods, listened to the same music, and they recognize their mother's voice. they can be soothed by simply being laid on their mother's chest. Every child has a history- even if they come home at 41 weeks. For some of them, their mom's have been in turmoil since the day they discovered that they were pregnant. For others their was addiction. Some of the mom's & dad's loved their child so much that placing them was the most difficult & most responsible decision that they ever made. But they were with them...inside of them...for 9 months.

our children have no memory of their birth parents.

we have always been open with our kiddos concerning their story. it is theirs. i would want to know my story. imagine knowing nothing about your family and trying to piece together anything. Not knowing who you resemble or the details of their life. not understanding the "whys" of your placement. wondering if you've seen your birthparents unknowingly. it's all very overwhelming when you think about it. we share any pictures, memories, special gifts from relatives, etc. with them. and we talk it to death...when they need to. and when they "need to" can be completely unpredictable.

today was one of those days.

i went to the grocery store early this morning. when i returned, greg was in the middle of "redirecting, re-doing, time in" with said child. it was a battle in process. by the time it was over all was good but i knew something more was evolving. one of the many things that we have learned after much reading and many hours of training is that when children from hard places act crazy-they are usually scared. when they act angry- they are usually sad. we have seen much anger in the last several months. we discussed it last night and came to the agreement that age, felt safety, and several other factors are producing more of these outburst. 15 minutes later and we were right back in the vortex. i directed the child to the living room where we sat on the floor and i began to probe. "Why do you think you're feeling so angry?" She answered harshly with, " Everyone is mean and i feel like a piece of trash that's been thrown out." That's pretty complex & descriptive for someone who was just suppose to be finding their flip-flops. "Well, it sounds to me like you're sad. What do you think you could be sad about? Sometimes when we're sad we treat people the way we feel." it was instantaneous. She softened and began to weep. She said, "I don't want to hurt you, but I i just want to go to (city) and find my birth mom and tell her that i love her and i want to make sure that she's not making bad choices." For the record- we have NEVER said that she made "bad choices". We have always talked about the great choice that she made to "place her with us." She wept for close to thirty minutes. I held her and wept with her because you know, when you are a mom, you hurt when your babies hurt...especially when you can do nothing about it! I prayed with her that "her mom's heart would be changed and that she would, if it was God's will, call the agency and ask for everything that this child has sent to her." after a while we went to the table for her to draw a picture. i thought this would help her to calm down and hopefully serve as therapy in some way. She said, "I want to draw a picture of me & her to sleep with under my pillow." After a bit, she was through and the "moment" was over.

It comes on fast, and ends abruptly.

She had a snack and the rest of her day was pretty rough. Around 3:30 I made her lay down for a nap because I was so emotionally drained. She slept until 6:30. After dinner I spent some exclusive time with her in order for her to know that we were okay. It ended with Junie B. Jones and a bowl of chips.

To say that I love her is an understatement. I was born to be her mother.

So why do I post all of this?

Because it is important for everyone to know that this is what it looks like. Real life is messy. It is important for you to know that my child is grieving. not symbolically- in real life. she is grieving someone that she has no memory of...and she really loves her...and she knows that she is her "real" mom....and she knows that she is not with her...and that's a very difficult reality to compartmentalize. it bleeds like a crazy cut to the jugular and it soaks to the core of every aspect of her life...and by our choice...ours too! if we do not embrace her suffering and help her carry it- she will stop talking and she will bleed to death internally. It is so important that our families, churches and schools understand what is going on in their little brains and it is important for us to make space for them to figure out their place in the Greater Story.

Life is short....engage.

Isn't it amazing how the most difficult circumstances are usually accompanied by the sweetest gifts. Mother Theresa said, "Suffering is the kiss of Jesus." Sharing in His suffering brings sweet intimacy with Him.

Upon Further Review

The last year has been difficult to say the least. I always rag on whiney blogpost, however, this is going to sound like one!
In July, my oldest daughter, was in bed for the month. Her Dr. ran a lot of test, blood work, every type of scan...etc. On August 1-8, she, my mother and I traveled to Europe to see my brother and his family. When we returned she rested and I assumed that she was feeling better, just tired from the trip. Two days after the trip we received a phone call asking us to provide foster care for a little boy that "would probably me be moving in with family but they just needed time to get it all worked out." We said, "Yes!" feeling that this would be a good time to get our feet wet again in foster care. The next week my oldest daughter started 6th grade. She still wasn't feeling great. I was convinced that she had a strain of mono and pulled her out of her dance classes and extra after school stuff. Two weeks later I was pulling her out of school completely treating pneumonia and whatever else this was. Less than a week later our pediatrician referred us to Children's Hospital in Dallas. We had an appointment in Infectious Diseases. I didn't feel that worried. I did, however,feel very self-concious. I could tell when discussing this with people that they were skeptical about how sick she really was. I do not believe that anyone thought I was crazy- just an over-concerned parent. The Dr.'s came in and asked us probably 100 questions. They ran a lot more blood test and then sent us home. Less that a week later, the Dr. called to let me know that Abby had an infection called histoplasmosis. She had been treated for pneumonia twice and he felt confident that she was on the road to recovery...but did say that she would not fully recover until Summer.
At the same time that we are nursing her back to health- we are nursing a newborn. Well, not really nursing. But you get the point. We now had a little guy that was 4 months old, he was pre-mature by 2 months, so our sleep was lacking severely. We were growing to love him so the sleepless nights, albeit not fun, were worth it!
This is beginning to sound whiney....and it's about to get a little worse. My husband works 2 jobs, we now have 5 kids, 1 of which is in bed recovering, 1 of which is sleeping all day and wakey-wakey all night, and 3 who need to be educated. Ellie really is somewhat self sufficient when it comes to her math, reading & history. So it was not hard...it just WAS. Lu & Zoe needed to learn to read because that's a pretty big precursor to being successful in life and graduating one day. Needless to say, the stress was up and the sleep was down.
Three weeks ago, Ellie turned 10! She hit double digits. And you have to know her. She is so fun and grateful for ANYTHING & EVERYTHING. Well, Grams hooked her up with a night at Great Wolf Lodge. We eat gluten free over here at the Fields' house simply put: because I need one more thing to manage. So the ONE thing Ellie wanted was to eat gluten on her bday weekend. What the heck! You only live once. We had a blast at GWL, came home Saturday evening, got up to go to Worship Sunday morning and Ellie is s.i.c.k.! She stayed in bed nauseated Sunday, Monday & Tuesday. On Wednesday, which happened to be her birthday, I got up to cook her the breakfast that she wanted. She comes walking into the kitchen and let's just say, "It was ugly!" She was doubled over in pain and wretching. I have never seen her so sick. We went to the pediatrician at 1:30, then to the ER & then we were transported to Children's at 11 p.m. that evening. They diagnosed her with pancreatitis and kept her there until Sunday. Greg took off work Wednesday afternoon and returned on Tuesday morning.
The next week everything seemed to start to ease up. We went to Worship the following Sunday all together. It was really interesting because for some reason that day everyone seemed to be asking me questions about our foster son's status. It had been a week when people were not showing up for the visits and I felt bad for him, as well as the entire situation. I sat down in the pew, with all of the questions still on my mind, the last week still fresh and the last several months still fresh. The under toe was trying to draw me under when our pianist began to play, "This is my Father's World." A flood of emotion swept over me at once, a Stillness that can only be explained One way, and a Peace that I could not explain if I tried.
This is my Father's world.
O let me ne'er forget
that though the wrong seems oft so strong,
God is the ruler yet.
This is my Father's world:
why should my heart be sad?
The Lord is King; let the heavens ring!
God reigns; let the earth be glad!
So I worshipped...
and right before the sermon began...
Ellie gave me a look that said, "I'm not okay."
So...back we went to Children's. Praise the Lord that another pastor's wife in town, who is also a nurse in Big D, happened to have her phone with her and she met me at home and got us to and into the hospital a little more quickly. With med's and assurance we left the hospital that evening, came home and we are good to go. i hope....and back to gluten-free!
And you know....that's Life. All of the good mixed with all of the bad. And the Truth that God rules it ALL. So tonight I will rest like a baby...or better than any babies in this house, knowing that God Is. I will rest knowing that He is Enough. And, I will rest knowing that this is His world!

Sunday Morning in the Preacher's House AND The Importance of Corporate Worship

So...let me begin this post by saying what it is not. It is not a whiny or gripey rant...because i love being married to a pastor. It is not a "woe is us" story. However, it is an attempt to give insight. It is an attempt to encourage and say, "You can do it!"
The truth is...Sunday is difficult. My husband is bi-vocational. He works a 40 hour a week job and he also pastors our church. When he comes home we have dinner together, he plays with all of the kiddos, he reads with them from the Bible & goes over their catechism questions and we both take part in putting them to bed. He is a great dad. Usually around 9:00 he retreats to his office to study for his Sunday sermon. Now, he meets with several people throughout the week for counseling. Some he meets for coffee at 6:30 a.m.. Some he meets with for an hour after work and before dinner. His study time usually ends around 12:30-1 a.m.. When Saturday rolls around, he usually needs to study from the afternoon on into the evening. It is important to state all of this before just jumping into Sunday Morning. Why? Because so many times people say to me, "I can't get up on Sundays because it is my only day off!" or "I'm so tired because I've worked all week." I can totally empathize...
So...Sunday Mornings are a different animal at our house. Daddy goes to Worship in a different car because he needs to get there a little earlier and stay a little longer. So I start moving toward breakfast pretty early. Once everyone gets up, the dance begins. It is a different day than other days. We consider this Day a Holy Day. The Lord has commanded His people to gather together to Worship Him: to hear from the Pastor -the Words of God from the Bible- the Gospel, to eat the Family Meal-Communion, to sing to Him- Psalms, Hymns & Spiritual songs and to encourage-one another. Twice a month out church community eats lunch together after Worship. This week we will have a baptism and lunch. And...did I mention....we have 5 kids in our house? It is very likely that one of the five will not feel up to par. Honestly, there are weeks that I do not feel up to par. However, I do lots of things during the week not feeling up to par. So, we decided a long time ago that Corporate Worship would be a priority in our lives. The preached Word is remarkably healing. Sunday is what we are preparing for all week long. In my home growing up it was a non-negotiable. Thanks be to God.
We can never find our shoes. What is it with the shoes? One Sunday we got there and one of the girls wasn't wearing shoes. Guess what- we all survived. One thing that really helps is when everyone decides on Saturday night what they are wearing on Sunday...along with two matching shoes....and they lay everything out together on the table. The hair thing can be trying,as well. Simply because black people hair is a little more difficult for a white person to just "pull up". Our corporate Worship begins at 10:30. I normally get everyone dressed and I am usually jumping in the shower around 9:40 and walking out of the door, at the latest, by 10:10.
Once we get to church, getting everyone in the door and seated is the hard part. It's like herding kittens. I honestly do not understand some of the complaints that I hear from people with just a couple of kids. Once in church, I find it extremely restful :). Actually- it is the salve that I have waited for all week. (I do not expect any of my non-Christian friends to understand this....and that's cool...just post about that on you're own blog.)
So....what's the point of all of THAT? I'm not sure really- other than to express "what it's like" to do this...and to say, "It IS worth it." Guess what? There is a super-natural healing and rest that comes from and flows out of obedience.
Our kids know what is important to us. They know who is important to us. And believe it or not- they are shaped by these things. They will grow to value what we value. But more importantly than that- WHY would we not want to meet with the people of God to worship Him?

im too busy

im too busy to post right now...parenting 5 children has made me one tired puppy. i am thinking about something that i want to write about however. i am planning on writing about "Sunday Mornings in the Preacher's House." Should have this out this week...we shall see. This should be a fun road to go down....

The Looking Glass

The past month has literally passed like none other. Many of you know that Abby, my mom, and I went to visit my brother & his family in Brussels, Belgium. We had an incredible time. It was an invaluable experience for all of us. One of the things that literally changed my life was the trip that my brother and I took to Paris.
There have been several times throughout the years when things have happened and I have paused and thought to myself,"Don't forget what's happening right now." When a close friends' children were recently adopted I took a mental snapshot of all that was wrapped up in that one moment for me . When Greg was ordained and his friends, who were from our time of ministry back at Sagemont drove in to pray over him during the service, time stopped. When Abby was born and Amazing Love was playing in the background, my arms were tied down because of the surgery and I turned my hands up to thank God for her and the moment. When I stepped off of the plane returning from India, Australia, Mexico, & Amsterdam I marked a tab in my mind. When the judge's gavel hit loud and hard saying, "She is your daughter"-my life was altered. The day my dad died, the letter my great aunt gave me, the day Greg told me that he loved me, the first time Lucy looked straight into the camera, all of these things define my life to me.
I was not prepared, however, for the impact of this trip.
My brother and I left from Brussels, with Abby and his three teenagers at 7:00 the morning after our arrival. My mom was planning on making the trip and wound up being sick that day. It was all new to me. We rode the metro to the train station. The train was crazy. 200 miles an hour while drinking espresso. Of course, the first stop was The Eiffel Tower. Kyle brought me up beside the tower...so I wasn't expecting it when he said, "Hey, look over there!" It was really amazing. We went everywhere. Notre Dame, an incredible CityView tower where we saw a 360 view of Paris, anything you can think of we walked to. Later in the afternoon Kyle asked if we wanted to go to The Louvre. We all agreed. I was exhausted already and it had begun to get a little warm. We stood in line and we finally got in. There were thousands of people there. At on point my brother and I looked at each other and started laughing and I said, "It's Wednesday and all of these people are here. We, like everyone else there, wanted to hit the high points. We were off to find The Mona Lisa. Well, we found her surrounded by people from every tribe, tongue and nation. I grabbed Abby's arm and pulled her, pushing and shoving, to the front for a quick glimpse of this painting I have heard about for 39 years. We quickly snapped and gawked and moved out of the way. And I did have "a moment" there...but not the one I am writing about here.
At this point, we all divided up. The kids were funny because, well, they are kids. They won't really appreciate any of this for about 20 more years. Kyle and I continued to look. As I began to be taken in by the magnificent wonders that I was seeing, most I did not even know existed until that minute, I began to feel extremely small. Even as I type this I am aware of how shallow and flat my description is. There were so many paintings of Christ. I was really interested in how the painters would depict His humanity and mortality. What made them choose the scene that they had painted? What about Christ nursing, clinging, eating with friends, discussing at the table important truths all the while children rolled on the floor with their pet dog and servants served in the background, made them see Him as He was. Of all of the scenes that had captured them- this was the one. Seriously, if you have ever been there you can concur, there were so many portrayals of Christ that I forgot that other paintings might be unrelated. At one point I saw a portrait of a man and I thought, "Huh, who is he? Is this a theologian? Is this a martyr?" The placard read something like this, "Man on the Street". Wow. I had viewed so may pictures of Jesus Christ that I began to see every other work in relationship to Him. I saw this man and thought, "What is his context...in relationship to Jesus?" The heaviness of this landed on me with such gravity that I had to stop because I was so overwhelmed with emotion. All of life, all of creation, all the earthiness of every moment finds it's meaning in relationship to Christ.
2 Corinthians 3:18 says, "And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit." How are we changed? By beholding Him. Even in worship, I worship as a receiver. "We love because He first loved us." I have this picture of what i think "the Day of the Lord" will look like. I think it will feel very similar to that moment. I am falling forward because of the weight of His glory and all things are simultaneously circling Him and suddenly it all makes sense.
By the way, the Man on the Street is there too...

Peace I give you...

One of the neatest things that we did over the weekend was attend an all Latin mass. Ellie and I went on Maundy Thursday. Abby had a baseball game out of town, however, Greg would not be off work in time to keep the younger ones or for us to get there in time....and there was NO way that i was taking them THAT day. Let's just say it wasn't their finest hour. In History, we have been studying a lot about the Roman Catholic Church. Several months ago I called the priest at the church and asked if he would give our kiddos a tour and explain some of their basic practices. We were very excited but he was sick the day that we were suppose to go. I had never been to a mass so i thought, "Why not go Latin?" So, Ellie and I went. We sat on the back row. To say that she was nervous would be an understatement. She was overwhelmed by the statues, the bells, the incense, the altar boys, the kneeling, crossing and the cantor. I know that it was her first time to see a foot washing ceremony. At one point she almost jumped out of her seat. I put my arm around her and whispered, "Nothing unexpected is going to happen TO you. You are seeing everything that will happen." I must say, I thought it was a beautiful service. We did not receive communion because we are not Roman Catholic...and of course, our view of the sacraments are different. I had encouraged Ellie to make observations while we were there. I told her to take everything in and we would discuss it later. The diversity was noticeable. The liturgy was longer. The Latin was different. It was really cold. The incense was s.t.r.o.n.g so the fans HAD to keep moving. I was sure that she would have noticed all of those things. When we left she said two things: 1) "Can we get a sno cone?" 2) "You saw everything I did so..."
On Sunday during worship one of our Elders read John 20. I was captivated by Lord's desire to give peace. PEACE. Do I need to tell you how many times in a day i feel unrest? disillusionment? confusion? the effects of the fall are real in me...but Christ gives peace. quiet. rest. order. hope. Life.

We had Easter Lunch at my Mom's. This year felt a little different. My grand-mother and great-aunt were there, with one uncle who has not lived the greatest life. Their health is failing quickly. They are dealing with old age, forgetful minds and feeble bones. One is spiritual and two are not. There is a fight to hold on to what used to be and a resistance to accept what is. We took lots of pics, thanked God for His grace through Christ and watched the kids play in the backyard. My great aunt brought a friend with her from her assisted living place. She cannot remember her last name but she knows Elvis and that she played basketball in high school.
One Day...One day we will all sit in that same seat. we will be quirky, forgetful and clumsy. we will not remember things that define us at this moment. I know that the unknown scares my aging relatives. I know that they feel alone in the midst of family and friends. They say that "the world no longer looks the same."
When I think about the things that cause so much commotion in my life i wonder "Why?" "Why am I wasting my day/time on this?" "Why am I building my kid's memories of home with this block?""Why am I putting so much emotion into this?" Sitting at the table that day with my aged family at times felt suffocating. But this thought came to me, "Nothing unexpected is going to happen TO you. You are seeing everything that will happen." Awesome. It will all culminate in "growing old". Yippeee! BUT Christ says, "Don't forget the PEACE!" In this life you are going to have trouble...but I am giving you PEACE."
One of the main truths that I left the mass with that Thursday evening was the real presence of Christ. My hope? Christ in me. He has made me his own and he gives me real peace.He has given me His real presence. He offers me life beyond this life...and beyond the grave. Thanks be to God who has given me the victory in Christ Jesus.

New Places

My girls are growing up. I was talking to a friend tonight relaying our "happenings" for the weekend. I was pulling into Starbucks kid free. Ellie was spending the night with a friend. Abby had gone to a church event with a friend. Lu & Zoe were about to go to bed and Greg was finishing up the sermon for Sunday. She said, "Wow." I had not really reflected on how quickly time had passed. 5 years ago last month we were finalizing an adoption with a little one who was going to take a lot of attention and energy for the next several years. There really hasn't been much time to stop and think about how far we have come as a family. We are functioning- healthy, happy & grateful - in awe of the goodness and grace of God.
My five year old is giving us glimpses into her "more developed" personality. She has a large vocabulary with absolutely no concern for context. It has been interesting to watch her try to find her place in this white family without the ability to fully process her unique situation. She knows that she's not white. She knows that she's brown. But she's just not sure if it's okay to call attention to our obvious differences. She carries many unanswered questions with her everyday. Sometimes they slip out in my presence however, most of the time she whispers them to her imaginary friend. I think that she is making sense in her own way and in her own time, i pray, that she can see the blessing of that is her world.
Ellie, my 9 year old, is still with me everyday. My home school experience with her has not been difficult at all. She is a hard worker who knows that if she'll just get in there and get everything done- then the rest of the day is hers. She has such a compassionate heart and seems to connect the dots effortlessly. She has an ability to take an abstract concept and apply it in real life. She is going to start volunteering some this year and i am excited to see her interact with other people on this level. She's so fun to have around.
There is really too much to say about this little muffin to sum up in one sentence. If you've read my blog for anytime at all you know that Lucy has come SO far. She is about to start reading. She meets with a friend of mine twice a week who is working with her on some educational goals. She stopped taking her supplements about 18 days ago and she is doing maaahvelous! i am so happy to see her "fully present". I have no idea what to attribute this too other than growth spurts, prayer & her feeling of safety. That probably makes no sense to any of you unless you have walked down this same path of foster and adoptive care. i am praying for her continued growth and stability. She loves to sing, learn and dance. She is a JOY!
My oldest, Abby, is teaching me everything about parenting & and is breaking me in pretty quickly. She is almost 12 and is growing up to be a fantabulous person. FUNNY, easy to spend time with and a gentle spirit. She is about to finish 5th grade at the Christian school. She wants to live everyday of her life. It kills me that i can look at her today and see glimpses of the woman that she will soon be - the way she looks, laughs, talks, etc. She is fun to hang out with. In fact, as i am typing this she is trying to make me laugh by lip-synching the title song from Dog the Bounty Hunter.
My point in writing all of this is just to reflect on 1) How quickly life happens & 2) How gracious the Lord has been to us to give us this great life with these great kids. As many of you know, our home is on open status again for foster/adoptive care. I am excited to see who the Lord will send our way. What kid will change our lives by his/her presence in the world? What child will continue to mold & shape us into who we are to be? The Lord is so dynamic. He is always working His good will and pleasure. What an exciting time to be alive.

it's been a while...

but i've go something brewing! need a little down time so i can write...there in lies the problem. :) happy kids, busy mom.

tonight

tonight, like every other night, i am up way to late. i have noticed that the older my children get the greater demands there seem to be. i am using demands in the sense of non-negotiables. we have more to discuss, organize, manage and create. as our oldest learns greater responsibility, which frees us to a certain degree, we have to deal with the fact that our child that requires more care requires more time. so there is a give and take, but as you all know, it often feels like more is being taken. however, i have caught myself today- in middle of setting the table, doing the dishes, typing a blog, pausing to be caught up in the reality of God's unfailing love toward me. I have been absorbed today in the idea of being seen and captured by the Lord of this Universe. I have unwillingly focused today on the fact that we are a part of a Greater Story...one that we are not the center of. We are clay. He is the Potter. i must admit that over the past several years, i have come to empathize with the immigrant. One who's native land is foreign to the place where he or she resides. i am speaking in a spiritual sense. when i woke up the day after my dad died- everything looked different. not bad- just sharper. things that had my attention the day before didn't seem quite as pressing the day after. that's how i feel today. Aware. akward and a little clumsy...but Awake.
now- i need sleep.

i've been following this blog for a while...

http://aplacecalledsimplicity.blogspot.com/2011/02/if-god-told-me-to-i-would.html

love to hear your thoughts. i have felt this same disdain for excuses throughout the years. greg has often said that most of the time people aren't actively engaging the idea of foster/adoption & orphan care...they are just excusing themselves from it. we need never gripe about any group who does what we, the church, should do for the oppressed. we, of all people, should be sacrificing our comfort, pleasure and selfish pursuits to love, parent, treasure & welcome into the church- the least of these. this is the true fast. do not expect your children to one day do what they do not see you model now. the messiness of the gospel, the messiness of the incarnation, the mundane, normal, christian life involves us living, embracing, and struggling through our own discomforts and dealing with our sin, to provide life for those who have no hope.

I love (stuff) too much

I am writing this now but will post it later. At this time my husband and I are involved in what we would consider to be an extensive fast. We have fasted in the past- but never at the same time. So far, during this time, I have fractured my foot, our washer has gone out, we had the worst fight of our 15 years of marriage, we had to buy a new dishwasher, and last night our heater went out- and it just so happens that it is the coldest day of the year thus far. Simultaneously, we felt led to foster care again, someone gave us $1000 on the day that our heater died and our spiritual awareness has sharpened markedly and my concern for earthly goods has drastically diminished. I am seriously aware of how quickly these goods waste away.(my body included) I am also keenly aware of the trust I put in things of the world and the immeasurable amount of comfort that they bring to me. God save me!
I pray for grace to persevere in this fast. It feels as if it will go on forever. I know that I can do it because the past keeps reminding me. But I must confess: Though my face is not long -my heart is. I miss Eating. I miss feeling physically full. But I must confess- I hate feeling out of control. My eating-worship habits have been crazy. I rarely deny myself of anything. So capturing this desire has made me feel strongly indebted to the Lord who has given me the power in Christ to conquer this Maniac that seeks to devour me through my own devouring. Whether that is shopping, giving my opinion, having my way, choosing to be distracted rather than engaged or beginning my day with Matt Lauer instead of Jesus Christ. Whatever the sin may be- it is still sin.
It is unbelief.
I think that during this time we have sacked up and given away about 25 bags of clothes, toys and junk. Stuff that we like, things that make us feel good about ourselves, and make others feel good about us. These things tend to woo me away from the God that whispers, "Be in the world not of the world". I must confess, I like quirky things. i like to hold on to stuff i might need. i like to "pass down". guess what- i think the lord has freed me from this. i pray that this is the case. i pray that he, in his grace, effectually moves me to hold on loosely to everything as a provision for that day alone. (Give us this day our daily bread.)