Comrades

I always wanted to be a mommy in this far off way, the way you want to be an astronaut or a cowgirl.  Not because I had any idea what being a mommy means but because it's something that grown ups do, and it seemed fun, or at least something I could be good at, so you know sign me up.

I never guessed it would be the best thing.  The thing that makes me say, "really God, Really, I get to do this."  The thing that makes me cry my eyes out with both happy and sad tears, the thing that cracks me straight up, the thing that makes me look at my baby being three big years old already and makes me feel kind of panicky.  As if He doesn't have something else to use me for, I'm a slow learner, I'm sure you've noticed by now.

Tonight as I made dinner, a big salad with green beans and mushrooms on the side (I got the evil eye from the kiddos), Chloe got herself dressed up in a tinkerbell costume.  She was so proud of herself, so taken with her princessness.  She asked me if I could change her hair into a ponytail (something about the spinning), and to put on a "dancing song."  I could not wipe the grin off my face.

The next thing I knew I looked up from my chopping and she had found a baby doll and was holding it by both arms, bent low so the dolls feet touched the ground, swaying to the music.  I decided dinner could wait, I decided to burn that image into my memory, I stood there crying, not allowing myself to take a picture because I would have had to look away.

She looked up at me and told me she was practicing for the Daddy daughter dance, and I just lost it.  There is such good and bad wrapped up in being a mother.  This good, it's so very good, but it wouldn't be nearly as joyful if it wasn't for the pain.  I wouldn't realize how amazing that moment was if I hadn't lived through all the ones filled with pain, the ones where I begged God to fix all the broken places in her, in me, in us.

We're mother and daughter, sure, but the reason that sometimes I can't take my eyes of of her is because we're comrades her and I.  We went in side by side and fought some of the biggest battles of our lives, we still fight them from time to time.  We are bound together by a good God who puts the lonely in families, who takes the darkest days and turns them into laughter, who gives us grace upon grace.

Today we celebrate

This week we celebrate Chloe and we remember and we try to reconcile the fact that two years ago I took my baby from the woman who had raised her's arms.  That God can take one of the greatest signs of brokeness in this world and use it for good.  Adoption is symbolic of the best thing, the God of the universe choosing us, of redemption, but to be sure the need for adoption only exists because of the fall, because of sin, because of evil.

So as my mind travels back in time today I feel the knot in my stomach and the tears sting my eyes, but then I look at her, this amazing gift, and I smile and I can breathe.  Two years later she is mostly healed and she is mostly mine and she is mostly a carefree three year old girl.

On that day two years ago, we had headed out to the "Walmart" of Seoul, having not been able to find children's training chopsticks no matter where we searched in the days leading up , so we had taken the subway all the way out to use our last hours baby free for more shopping.  We found them and also bought Chloe a baby doll set.  But as usual we had underestimated the time it would take and so we had to travel straight from the store to our appointment.  We splurged on a taxi, which turned out to be the right decision and the most soothing way for me to travel in the moments leading up to one of the hardest things I've ever done.  We ate a quick lunch and walked down to our agency.

We were early so they had us wait in the lobby and at the sight every foster mommy who walked in carrying a baby my heart stopped, was that her?  I hadn't received a picture of her in six months and was sure that I would not recognize her.  I begin to cry overwhelmed with the stress of sitting in a room waiting to meet my one year old daughter for the first time.  I tried so hard to stop myself, I knew I would shed so many tears in the hours and days to come, it seemed wasteful to start them so early, but my soul needed a release, a way to relax all that stormed inside of me.

When I finally met her in that room, it is only now that I can say I again recognize the girl who sat in her (foster) grandmother's lap and ate cheese puffs.  She was confident and bossy, she was independent and sneaky.  Kyle recorded our meeting this time something we regretted not doing with Jack, so I have a video of that entire meeting and it is one of the most painful things for me to see.  The way I was so broken, I could not get a grip on myself, the bigness of the situation was not lost of me.  Knowing what was to come, the way she was so oblivious to the forever goodbyes she would say, without any understanding of what was happening to her.

God never gave me more than I can handle, instead he was my strength through that entire time.  I had long ago reached my end, it was Him alone working through me that day and all I could do was obey moment by moment, breath by breath.

A few days ago, I lost her at the store, it was her birthday and she was wearing a fancy pink dress with a fancy pink sweather and her nicest shoes, her sister had dressed her for the outfit she deemed appropiate on a third birthday and although I knew that it was way too fancy for all the things in would encounter throughout our day I embraced the celebration.  And then there I was standing in Kroger, having turned my back for a second and she was gone.  In scariest 90 seconds of my life, I felt the panic rising up in me, and had the strangest thought came to the front of my mind, how will I tell her birth mom that I lost her.

There is nothing simple about my children's stories or the way I feel about them.  There is no way I could explain to you how deep I have learned to love, how much adoption has been used in my sanctification, how my greatest gifts can be some the hardest most painful days of my life.  But today we just celebrate because it all boils down to, Chloe.  A gift from God, a blessing and a privledge, my baby girl.

CSC- Thank you for giving up everything in your world to be my daughter.  You are the bravest girl.  You are so beautiful that sometimes I cannot believe that you are real.  You're my girl.

Waiting

So I can't quite seem to get my act together enough to find time to blog over here, but a friend asked me to contribute to her blog and that is apparently enough pressure to get me to write something down :).

Today I'm blogging over at Hope Does Not Disappoint, my friend's blog about their journey through infertility.  I'm talking about Waiting for children (no not the kind I do now when I wait 10 minutes for them to finally come down stairs so we manage to only be five minutes late to school) the kind I did before my children came to me and what it taught me.

If you are in the process of waiting on children check out all of the posts from this week, she is doing a series of different woman talking about their journeys, and they each have gained such wisdom and grace from the trials they went through.

This is what God did today

I was up to my ears in grace today, left shaking my head in wonder, and grabbing another tissue to dot at the corner of my eyes.  Why am I always so surprised by our God, is it possible that I still do not understand the way He loves me, my children, you, us?  Will I ever learn to expect the way He moves?

Last night my plans for Jack's upcoming surgery got flipped upside down and I was left feeling stunned and scared and hurt and confused.  But eventually I felt his peace seeping into my heart, I could hear his word spoken, great are the plans I have you, plans to give you a hope and a future, plans for your good and not for harm.

I should have seen it coming, just the day before I had started to fret about the surgery and so I began to take control: to plan and make lists and assure myself that as long as I was in control everything was going to be okay.  As I lay in bed unable to sleep that night, my brain buzzing with all it's plans, he reminded me, I am in control, not you, and you can trust me, I love my son, Jack, more than you could ever hope or imagine.  How easily I forget these children are not mine, how easily I trick myself into thinking that my plans are best, my love is greatest.

I have been praying for some time now for God to bless us with deep abiding friendships here in this town, and until today, I had yet to take the time to stop and see just how faithful He had been in answering that pray.  Due to our change of plans, I had to send an email out to several friends asking something that felt like too much to ask.  When did my pride become so large that I decided that I could do life alone, when did I forget that He has asked us to live as community, as people who lay down their lives for each other, and we don't always get to be the ones laying something down.

Almost immediately I began to get enthusiastic yeses, as if they understood my reluctance and wanted to convince me that indeed they wanted to help.  By the time I checked back this evening almost everyone had emailed back to tell me they'd happily do it.  And he nudged my heart again, look and see, I have never asked you to do it on your own, I go before you, I prepare the way, my plan for you is always full of goodness, always beauty from ashes, always best.

As I began to throw some random food together and call it dinner one of my best friends stopped by just to drop off a present for Jack and just to see me.  She caught me up on the latest in her life, made me laugh, and hugged me twice.  Of all the days, she knew to come by tonight to remind me that she is here, that there is nothing I have to do alone.

Just when I thought that I had experienced all the love God had to give, hah!  I received a note from a friend who had no idea what had been going on in my life, no idea what her note would mean to me.  She told me how, in the middle of the night before my plans were tossed aside, God had pressed down on her to pray for us, for Jack and his surgery, for me, for peace and wisdom.  I was so moved to have a friend who prays for me in the middle of the night, and even more so to be reminded that we are always on our Father's heart.  That he is talking about me to her so that she could pray for me, so that He can move in my life.  He knew what the upcoming day held for me and He was actively going about preparing my heart.

Today was quite a day, looking back on it it feels a little bit unreal.  And I almost missed all of it, there was a moment right before I sent out the email that I thought I was making a mistake in asking for help, that instead I should try and find a babysitter, but I recognized the lie and pressed on.  I almost settled for trusting in my plan, in my ability to control things, and missed out on Him, and the joy of living within the family of God.

I am a slow learner, so I come and I write, even though I'm a bit shaky at it.  I write to remind myself as I have so many times before, this is what God did today.

And we remember that all things work together for the good of those who love the Lord and are called according to his purposes.

The art of (not) camping in the rain*

Two days before we were set to leave on our biannual family camping trip (way back in September, better late than never for blogging right?), with the weather forecast getting wetter and gloomier by the minute I received an email from my husband.  "Below are some links on tips for camping in the rain."  This is how we communicate more often than not, through emails, our dinner conversations are usually filled with highlights of school days, reminders to "put your knees down" and wondering out loud how our children could possibly be so loud and so messy, we have neither the memory or the energy to talk about grown up things.

I took his email as a sign of 1) we were going camping, even if it was raining and 2) he was preparing his argument against my protests, "see honey, look, people camp in the rain, they even write articles helping others to do it too!"  I was of the opinion that people (with three young children non the less) camped only in the rain by accident or by poverty, but then again I used to feel that way about camping all together.

I deleted his email and checked the forecast again, 100% chance of rain for all of Friday night and now Saturday morning.  I began to procrastinate, my most favorite coping technique and wasted some time on pinterest.  At some point, through email I'm sure, we discussed the idea of canceling our trip, decided we didn't want to and said that we would move it back instead camping Saturday through Monday instead of Friday through Sunday, and in an attempt to show me how much he loves me he said we would wait out the worst of the rain with a visit to a friend's house along the way.

I began to cook/prep food, pack up all the clothing/sleeping/cleaning items for four people, and check my list for the hundredth time (I have camped now a total of 12 times with kids and it never really gets easier to pack).  I also checked the weather every 10 minutes praying for a change, surely it wouldn't really rain as hard as they were forecasting, this is Texas afterall and it never really rains, even when they promise it will.

But it did.  It rained and it poured.  Kyle bought extra tarps and put down plastic on all the floors of our van (which is very Kyle), I packed an extra set of clothes/shoes for every member of the family and put it in a bag in the car, our "just in case everything we brought got soaked" bag.

We arrived at our friends' house, were blessed to watch the Aggies win and to be fed and loved well.  And continued to check the weather and pray.  Finally it was decided that it was going to be raining all night and hard so we would stay the night at our friends' and then leave Sunday morning for our trip.

Sunday morning we got up and were leaving by 8:30 in the morning when we backed into a car parked across the street.  By we I mean Kyle, not that I'm keeping score :).  Mercifully the owner was not mad, even though we awoke her with this news on a Sunday morning and was not interested in getting any insurances involved, you couldn't hit another car and have a better outcome.

Finally we were on our way and Kyle turned to me and said, I think we should just go home.  The look in his eyes broke my heart, you never met anyone who feels as passionate about camping as my husband.  I said, no way we're going to go to camp even if it's in the rain and we're going to have fun (I may also have considered that canceling our trip this weekend would require me to pack everything up again in another couple of weeks) and really what else could go wrong.

When we got to Dinosaur Vally state park, there was a light rain but it was warm outside and it was very apparent that this was the nicest park we had ever camped at.  And the kids were super excited to be greeted by giant dinosaurs.  We had the pick of the sites when we arrived and got an awesome one where the kids could explore around and enjoy a glorious adventure.

We hiked, we saw dinosaur tracks, we cooked, we slept, we saw God's beautiful creation, we only got the littlest bit wet.  It was the best camping trip yet, who knew, maybe's theres something to this camping in the rain.

*I totally stole this post title from this book, which I love and highly recommend!

The thank you tree is back!

This is back up in our house again, with much more leaves both on it and around it.  I love what this little (ghetto :) thankful tree does for our family this time of year.  How about you, do you have a a tradition of thanks this time of year?

Originally posted November 2011

My jaw hurts and I realize I've been clenching it tight, all day long.  The day was long, and everywhere I turn I see the piles of all I've left to do, my life so full of straw and hay it feels empty.  This is the month of Thanksgiving, of thanks giving, of giving thanks and so I am trying to learn, this being content in all things.

I open my copy of One Thousand Gifts and my view begins to change, my hearts understanding the importance of coming into his courts with thanksgiving.  I long to always in all circumstances see and believe that my God is good.  I take up my pen and I write them down, the gifts, "blue sky the color of my love's eyes", "shaking a tablecloth in the front yard, knowing I'm leaving food behind for the birds."

But it's hard to stop and pay attention and there are times where I can't possibly think what it is I am to be thankful for.  He screams in the aisle and I am overwhelmed and I feel like I'm failing at this shaping of the hearts who've have been entrusted to me.  "I was not alone" is the only thing I find to be thankful for in that moment, He was with me, always with me.  And all afternoon it seems small, scribbled in my notebook, "I was not alone", but really isn't that the biggest thing, the thing to be thankful for, that He is with us, always with us.  That He didn't leave us here alone.

And so, the day goes on and there seems to be few and far things in between I can grasp onto and return to Him in thanks.  So I take the one who has furrowed my brow all day long, we go outside and he happily gathers sticks for the "thank you tree."  We walk along together and as he gathers, my shoulders begin to relax.  I look at him and am reminded of the miracle that is my son, and suddenly the tension is gone and I feel the Spirit utters words I've never heard to praise the giver of this great gift.

I find a jar and wipe the cobwebs off the surface, and I feel Him doing the same to my heart.  Beginning to make me clean, using this thanks giving to change my heart, could it be?  We place the sticks in the jar, and they sit barren, empty.  I get the paper, the punch, the pen.  Find the notebook and turn to the page filled with words of thanksgiving.  I punch, and I write and I tie.  As my hands work, punch, write, tie, I feel the cleaning, the filling.  I am making a thank you tree, and with each leaf placed I am practicing over and again, thanksgiving.

Punch, write, tie.  You are a good God.  Punch, write, tie.  A God who gives life.  Punch, write, tie.  An abundant life.  Punch, write, tie.  Who takes us, so barren, and fills us up gift after good gift.  And in the giving thanks we are restored.

Bless the Lord, O my soul

Have you heard 10,000 reasons by Matt Redman, isn't it wonderful.  Every time I hear it I bow down inside, I remember to wipe away this coating the world has put on my eyes and look around me at what is true.  Every time I sing those words, "whatever may pass and whatever lies before me, let me be singing when the evening comes," I open my hands back up, I losen my grip on what I've laid claim to, and turn to face my day ready to receive the gifts He has for me, even those that seem scary at first glance.  It makes me want to learn how to count His blessing better, to each night arrive at 10,000 and start all over again the next day.

Bless the Lord, O my soul, I will worship your Holy name, in praise and thanksgiving of

This one, who prayed for me this morning that I would spend time reading my Bible and have restful alone time.  Just hearing her pray those words changed my outlook on the day, how did she know just how to pray, how did God ever see it fit to allow me to raise her.  Who takes two full minutes when I drop her off at school to make sure to give us all long hugs and big kisses and then stands outside the car signing I love you with the biggest smile you've ever seen.

Finishing this book and loving it so much that I plan to flip it back over and start all over again.  To find my struggles written so beautifully on the page and see how God can work to heal the sins that nag me and the fears that haunt me.  To be reminded that the spiritual discipline of thanksgiving is powerful and so very necessary.

This one who had a dry diaper two nights in a row.  Who looked at me when I lost my cool and said, I'm going to give you a hug and a kiss, mommy.  He overwhelms me with his patience and his soft heart and his courage, oh to have courage like him.  For the second time he cleaned up the playroom by himself in order to get a treat and the few moments of a picked up house soothed over the rough spots in my day.

Watching this documentary* and knowing I still have part two waiting for me.  It made me cry so hard it hurt and I actually punched something I was so angry.  But it is always good to remember what I am here for, it is always important to understand that the comforts of my life do not entitle me to turn away from the darkness and the battle against it.  To hear His voice remind me that I need only continue to seek Him and obey, always obey, and daily to pray and pray again.

This little one who could not be cuter which brings me such joy and sadness, knowing that really soon she will be a big kid and she will be beautiful and amazing but, she will someday stop needing me to hold her and won't always call herself "Foey."  She received a gift yesterday and she opened it all by herself and I got to watch her dance to the latest CD from a famous Kpop artist.  I took her in my arms and I asked her if she remembered, could she possibly remember how she used to dance to this music with her second mama.  And in those moments I am always humbled to be apart of something so very big, the complicated lives of my children.

We walked over to this neighborhood library in the park, leave a book, take a book, it's all free for any who would like.  And I just stood there staring at it, thinking well now, there it is, the best thing.  A free library, in the park I love, in my neighborhood, surrounded by flowers.  Isn't it amazing the way He loves, he doesn't just provide for our every need, he gives us a deep abiding joy, and then he puts sprinkles on top with the most frivolous things that He knows would mean the world to us, a library in the park!

9,981 more reasons to go, I'm off to see what the Lord has for me today, and I pray I may be singing when the evening comes.

*You can still view Half the sky online for 5 for more days.  For what it's worth I think that this is one of the most important subject matters you can educate yourself on.  I urge you to watch these, they are well done and enjoyable while they stir your heart.