I Notice

Hey. Little boy digging in the dirt next to the fruit stand.
I see your torn t-shirt, two sizes too small.
I see your ribs poking through the tear on the left seam.
There are tracks in the dust on your face where a tear fell today.
I see you.
I notice.

Little boy walking down the street outside my neighborhood. Too small to be alone but you are.
Carrying an empty plastic bottle of pebbles, shaking out a tune as you go.   I see you watch the children as they leave the gate at the school.  I see you follow their smiles with your eyes. I see you watching them line up at the sari sari store to buy a snack for the walk home. I can tell you would love to be in line, in that red and white uniform, choosing from the bags hanging above their heads.
I see you.
I notice.

Tiny, thin girl. How old are you? Eight? Maybe nine? I see you carrying your little brother down that busy road where the cars and jeepneys drive so close to you, it makes your hair blow up. I see your intent eyes, and how you keep your brother hoisted just inches off the ground because he is almost as big as you are.  I can tell  you are a wonderful big sister.
I see you.
I notice.

Twelve year old boy in a temporary shelter for street children. I see you sitting against the wall in the room while the twenty-something other children play. I can tell you are unhappy. Your shorts are too small and they were intended for a girl. You don't chase after me like the other children, trying to thumb wrestle or hold my hand. You keep to yourself. And never smile. So I come to you and ask your name in my pitiful Tagalog. But you understand and even spell it for me. I tell you I will look for you when I come back.  And I see a hint of a smile.
I notice you.
You are worth more than all of the gold in all of the mountains in this whole, wide world.
Do you know that? I think you don't.  Yet. 

Children are everywhere here. They are free to roam in ways that make my mother- heart skip a beat. . . . down busy roads, on precarious piles of rubble, on trash heaps. They are the most abundant resource in this beautiful and terrible place.  They are the future, but they are often disregarded.
I see them barefoot, sometimes naked, occasionally crying, often begging.   They spot my white face from afar.  They notice me.
But not the way I notice them.

Little boy with the dusty face, you interrupt my peaceful sleep.
Sweet preschooler who watches the "lucky" children,  I brought you home in my heart.
Precious girl in your mother role, far too soon, I thought of you fourteen times today, or more.
Twelve year old boy, in your misery, I know your name. It's Jhon Matthew. I won't forget it. 

I notice that you are precious and worthwhile and deserving.
I notice that giving you those few pesos might make you smile today but may reinforce your low self worth, verifying that you are "just a beggar child", choosing your white-faced target wisely.

You are infinitely more .  .  .

And THAT is why our path here has taken a hard left turn.
YOU are why I can not be satisfied just to do good things for a few.

I must do more than notice.    I must act. And that action must be immediate and intentional.

 I am praying for you. I am changing my life's path for you. I am taking a leap of faith that  has me shaking in my shoes.
I am making a place for you.
Because I noticed . . .

Everywhere I Go

 Today, Wednesday, July 31st, marks THREE WEEKS since we turned the key on our new home and started living in The Philippines.  We allowed ourselves two or three days for jet lag and then began to get to work securing the licensing that will allow us to freely work with any child through The Bartimaeus Project.
We are very close to having that license!  We have children lined up and waiting to be evaluated and loved on.  How eager we are to get started!
In the meantime, we are spending our days getting to know this place we call home.  We have driven to the far corners of Luzon and been lost more than once.
We have taken buses, jeepneys and trikes as we get to know our close-by places.
And every place we go, every day, we are confronted with the poverty that earned this beautiful country the status "third world".

I am always uncertain as to how much to post and what pictures would be appropriate for this blog.  This is a country and a people of great dignity.  But I have seen horrible things and I want to share them with you because it is vital to your understanding of the answer to the question  "why can't you stay and help the poor in the United States?".
Yes, we DO have poor people in America.  Maybe even a few who actually starve due to lack of access to food or clean drinking water.

But not like this.

The streets in my town are lined with squatters.  The squatters are virtually homeless people who have make houses out of tarp, plywood, metal and garbage.  You can see them lining the Pasig River in the picture below if you enlarge it.

The squatter villages are full of children.   I have seen naked children playing within a foot of the busy street.
I have had beautiful children see my white face and hold out a hand to beg for a few pesos.
I have seen mothers carrying children who look very frail and sick. Walking down the street with hollow eyes, no hope to be seen.

And I don't have to go anywhere special to see this scene.   On the way to the grocery store, they are there.

Outside the restaurants where my family dines, they wait to ask for help

 And I say to myself "oh, we are here to help visually-impaired orphans. We aren't here for THIS kind of ministry."
But my heart is always prodded by that still small voice saying "whatever you have done for the least of these, you have done for ME."

And I say I would do ANYTHING for HIM.  And here "HE" is.  In the form of a dirty child holding out his hand.
In the face of a mother who's baby clearly has pink eye left untreated.  Looking just like a bone-thin old man coughing his lungs out on a crowded jeep, making me recoil just a bit as I think about tuberculosis.

Yes, we have poor in the United States.  but not like these . . .

Lord, teach us to serve and love and be your hands and feet.  Let us not confine ourselves to only doing what feels comfortable but let us love with reckless abandon.  For the time is short.   Let us not count the cost.

TEACH US TO LOVE.

A Post in Pictures

At the LAX airport one week ago awaiting the 13 hour flight on Philippine Airlines that would take us to our new home.

The line for check in (16 bags and 12 carry ons) was made much longer when our family stepped in!

Getting all settled in with no idea we are about to be bounced around the sky in some pretty heinous ways (ha ha)

settled in watching movies

a little in-flight PDA

This is the CLEAN side of the plane after the turbulence hit. I have NEVER been on a flight this turbulent and I hope to never again! 

A man was hurt in the restroom. It was a good  8 hours of rockin and rollin!

FINALLY home . . . sitting on our back porch at the new house. Happy to be on solid ground!

Riding the jeepney with the kids to get a few groceries.

The road in front of our house that goes toward the gate.

The mall! Air Conditioning and coffee!!!!

Our new van (a 12 seater, stick shift, diesel, STAREX)

YEAH .  . even before a sign of the fish, we get the NINERS . . . sigh

The Best Laid Plans

We are exactly three days into our venture from our home in North Carolina and onto the mission field in The Philippines and, so far, not one thing has gone the way we planned!

Our plan involved selling all of our vehicles except for our big van before we move.
HIS plan involved selling only our big van and the other cars will be sold for us by trusted friends and family.

Our plan included renting a 12 passenger van or comfortable SUV for a drive across the US before taking off.
HIS plan includes no available vehicles big enough for our family so we are renting two small cars and caravaning to friends
and family along the way.

Our plan involved a smooth trip to the Charlotte airport to pick up said vehicle.
HIS plan involves my sweet husband waiting for hours at the terminal and being passed from person to person (as well as a nice
trip on the concrete and two skinned knees for hubby).

 So we clearly see that we are expected to work on things like
"counting it all joy"
      and
"his ways are not our ways, neither are his thoughts our thoughts"

So we press on,  Confident that He who began a good work will be faithful to complete it.

And our slow downs and plan changes are within his watchful eye.  They are no surprise to our Father, who does all things well.

So we trust. We continue. We count our blessings. 

Tribute

Today, November 4th, 2012 is Orphan Sunday.     All around the country, churches are promoting adoption and orphan care in one way or another.  Facebook is rife with adoptive families sharing first photos of their adopted children.  Scripture and touching video inundate my "inbox".

I love it!

It draws my mind back to our first adoption in 2005. We had two biological children, a boy and a girl, and had surgically sterilized ourselves to make sure that's all we ever had.
But our BIG God had a BIG plan . . . to shake us right out of our comfort zone and give us the indescribable gift of a beautiful almost-four-year-old little boy with hearing loss and developmental delays. . .

 He has grown into a sweet, thoughtful, AMAZING 11 year old who reads well, is achieving his goals in math and has the kind of servant's heart every parent dreams of!  Ky was the perfect first adoption, as God well knew.  He bonded quickly, drew every family member in with his adorable face and sweet ways and rarely, if ever, misbehaved.  He made us eager to adopt again!

And then came Lemuel . . .

At 8-years-old, Lem was a firecracker of a child! He had the energy of a dozen children and had been through several disrupted adoptions. Lem was wounded and he challenged us at every turn. We can now say, with full confidence, that God has healed our sweet boy and he is proving to be a trustworthy young man with a fierce sense of right and wrong.  He is a star athlete and yet so humble about the gifts he has been given in that department.  Whenever the phrase "it was worth it" comes up in a television show, casual conversation or something I'm reading, my mind goes to our precious Lem.  We waited a long, long time and went through many MANY trials before this child grafted into the family but here he is and yes . . . it was worth the wait!

Four years later, God gave us the blessing of a child with Down Syndrome. . .

This tiny "baby" was 2 1/2 years old when he found his way into our family and along with him, came the most remarkable changes in all of us!  Appreciation for the smallest gains, compassion for those who struggle with developmental disabilities, the kind of protective love for another person that makes you ready to spring into action at the slightest sideways glance . . . we have to temper this in our older children. We have to assure them that not everyone who looks at our Angel Baby in public is thinking something unkind.  But more than what he represents, we love who he IS.  He is shy with strangers, he loves to dance and "sing", he eats with great gusto and he can be as stubborn as any child I've ever met.  Watching him sleep is precious and holding him while he sleeps can still put tears in my eyes.  When we hear "God's ways are higher than our ways", we can agree with complete certainty.  We might not have pursued the adoption of this Angel had not the Lord pricked our hearts so clearly . . . but oh, what we might have missed!  He is as close to perfection as a human can be.
The irony of that statement might be lost on some but if you have a child like ours, you understand completely.

But Our Father was not finished stuffing this family full just yet. . .
Into my hands came the file of an almost 15 year old boy.  And I saw his picture. And I knew he was MINE . . . just as sure as I knew I was living and breathing, I knew this young man was destined for our family . . .

And he came- terrified and uncertain, having been so long in his caring center. Having built relationships that were real and strong with so many who raised him, hating to leave yet needing to move on at the same time.  But this young man had been prayed over. He had been committed to God many times by many Believers. And we have been blown away to have been chosen to step into his life at this juncture and be the ones to say "forever". . . that is a privilege we will never take for granted.  God could have chosen anyone, but He chose US.   Thank you, Father!

And our crew has grown so big and beautiful, I often can't believe they are mine . . .

So as Orphan Sunday draws to a close,  I pray that families around the world are prompted to open their hearts and homes to just one more child, or to give to a family going through the adoption process, or to pray for orphans in every country.

The knowledge that there are children with nobody to call "mommy" or "daddy" lays me low. I choose to focus on all the "found" children today, like my own sons, but I am keenly aware that many remain unclaimed, feel unwanted, feel "less than" and in this broken world, that will always be a bitter truth.   But my prayer for those priceless treasures is that YOU, my readers, my friends, will notice, and care, and pursue them, even to the point of tremendous personal sacrifice.

There is no child too disabled, no land too far and no price tag too high for our Father.
He pays for what He orders. He guides. He equips. He sustains.
Always.
On time.
And sometimes, he even says "keep the change". . .
Won't you ask Him what He wants of you on this Orphan Sunday?

"God places the lonely in families . . ."   Psalm 68:6

Answered Prayer and White Fields

After a wonderful walk in the dark hours of the morning with my faithful walking friend, I came into the quiet house determined to spend some quality time in God's word. I have not done as well in that pursuit as I would like lately. I really need to go on a fast from my ipad . . . that would help.  Words with Friends or Words from my Father???? Hmmm . . . it should be an easier choice than I make it.

I usually prefer to choose a book of the Bible, most often Old Testament, and read chapter by chapter. I love seeing the hand of God in the lives of His chosen servants like David, Moses, Gideon and Daniel.  But today I played a little "Bible Roulette".  I do NOT recommend this method of study as a general rule but there have been times in my life when God has used it to speak to my heart.
Like today.

I opened to Matthew 20 and saw it . . .

It is the parable of the workers in the vineyard.  The master hires workers in the early morning, the afternoon, the late day and the evening and pays each worker the SAME wage at the end of the work day.

Those hired early are indignant!  They worked ALL DAY and received the same wage, albeit a fair and previously agreed-upon wage, as those who worked just a couple of hours.

The owner of the vineyard chastises those complainers with the remark "am I not allowed to do what I want with what belongs to me or do you begrudge my generosity?". 

And I realize that my husband and I are those workers hired very late in the day! But HE has been and is still being so generous with us just because He is good and He feels like it. Not because we "deserve". We don't.  All we "deserve" we have mercifully avoided by the brutal substitutionary death of God's perfect son. 

And that makes me want to worship Him all the more . . . because grace begets gratefulness.

Yes, Father, you are allowed to do whatever you want with what belongs to YOU . . . and with WHOEVER belongs to you . . . because it pleases you to do it.

So in giving and taking away, in healing and not, in bounty and in want, we have no right to look over our shoulder or to the left and the right and ask why SHE gets this and HE has that.

We have only but to praise You for the provision that comes from Your hand.  Your loving, guiding, cradling hand that is promised to never leave or forsake us. The value of which can not be measured.

So thank You, Father, for hiring us. Thank You for the wages. Thank You for the work. 

Thank You for proving time and again that You are doing this and we need not strive.
Or worry.
Or doubt.
Or give up.


Thank You for the tangible ways in which you are carrying us. The severance, the insurance, the provision that is more than we asked or imagined.  When you owe us nothing but are giving us so much.

Why?

Not because of our goodness but because of Yours.  To make us humble. To remind us that not a breath is drawn apart from YOUR will.  To teach us to trust even more and to never fight You for the helm.


Hired. Paid. Used. Protected. Guided.

ONE YEAR

Today, July 7th, 2012 marks one year since I waited nervously on the jetway.
One year since 30 of our friends and family members gathered in anticipation.
One year since I had to learn to answer "six" when asked how many children I have.

Our precious Francis has been home ONE YEAR today!

When I remember the early weeks of his homecoming, it is with fondness and maybe a little shudder of gratefulness that we are HERE instead of THERE.

I recall those early weeks where I was his complete link to the USA. Every task I set out to do, no matter how mundane, he wanted to be a part of. From making a bank deposit to getting groceries, Francis was always by my side asking questions. He wanted to know how everything worked here. He was absorbing life in the US at warp speed.

He wanted to know how much everything cost and then would quickly produce his calculator to convert that number to Philippine Pesos . . . and then he would gasp at the sheer expense of everything from a value meal to a pair of shoes.

He took perfect care of all of his belongings and was quick to help around the house with any chore anyone was doing.

And then he started to work for his dad and earn his own money . . . and NEVER spent a dime! He hid it in his room (although I always knew just where) and counted it again and again, converting it to pesos and remarking how shocked his friends back home would be at his "stash". We stayed up late watching action movies together after everyone else went to bed. I watched a lot of shooting and explosions...I was happy to.

He facebooked The Philippines for hours each day. He ached for those friends and caregivers in a way that was so hard to watch and, although a necessary part of starting a new life, something I wanted to ease and could not.

But time went on.

He began to say "no thanks" when I offered to take him with me to the store or the post office. He began to spend a little money on going to the movies with siblings. He joined his basketball team and found confidence in his English speaking and social skills. He started to get invited over to friend's houses.

He made a lot of baskets at his games and won the respect of the other players.

His comfort level in every situation multiplied and you could visibly see him being grafted into this life and this family.

And it's been a pleasure to watch and a gift.

He is ours and we are his. A little more each day. Just when I think we've reached total immersion, we get closer. The good and the bad experiences are the glue. We welcome both. But the good outnumber the bad at least 100 to 1.

God has done us a great kindness in making Francis our son.
Right on time.

Happy ONE YEAR HOME, precious boy . . . you are a jewel in our crown.

Two Lives

I'm pretty sure I have lived two lives.
No, this is NOT a post about reincarnation, don't worry!
I am barely over the big 4-0 and yet I am quite sure I have lived two totally separate lives.

In my "first life", I had a husband, two beautiful children (one boy and one girl), a big house, a new car, plenty of debt and quite the impressive exterior. I knew Jesus. I really did. There is no doubt about that. But I shopped a lot. On credit.
I homeschooled and never missed a field trip. I was a leader in our large homeschool support group and church circle. I thought I knew more than I really did. I liked to argue doctrine with those who were charismatic, non-reformed, liberal or just off base altogether. I wanted to serve God and at times I did. But that service was limited to what I felt I could control. My husband and I were orchestrating the American dream, a safe comfortable life with a predictable rhythm in which the biggest irritations were things like the dog vomiting on the carpet or running out of coffee. They felt so big. Then.

In life number two, things are so different I hardly recognize the first "me". Yes, I still have the same husband but now we have six children. We live in a small house, our cars are older and there is no debt anymore. I don't know nearly as much as I used to about matters of doctrine and I don't care to argue them anymore anyway. I am no longer in favor of the death penalty and I understand that Jesus did not appoint me to single-handedly change the doctrinal stances of fellow Believers. I know about the poor now. I know they are real and they aren't poor because they are lazy. Not all of them. I know that I was created for so much more than living life #1. I have learned that there is nothing that matters, that has eternal value, apart from investing in other people. I found out that people in need don't want to hear the gospel on an empty stomach, fatherless, in physical pain and that God has equipped my family to help remedy some of these circumstances for just a few people. A few is good. I am learning to be content and to count my blessings. I have almost completely stopped looking at what other people have and wishing it belonged to me. I just want God to use my short little life, that has taken such a long time to resemble Him even a little, and make it count for His kingdom.

Please know I do not believe I have "arrived" or culminated in some swath of Christ Likeness that makes me better than another Believer. I haven't and I'm not. But I am so desperately in love with life #2 that I can not fathom how I tolerated life #1 for as long as I did. I love that Jesus opened my eyes to the poor. I love that He put a longing in my heart to break out of the old life and step onto the balance beam that #2 is proving to be. I adore the husband He has given me who is leading the charge to be "RADICAL" for the sake of the lost and the poor.

I love that our family is open to selling everything we can't fit into a suitcase and returning to the country of our hearts.

I stand amazed that the opportunity to do just that is before us.

The Lord will have to move mountains but He has moved them right before my eyes, just as an act of love and faith building.

We stand on the precipice of life #3. A life on the mission field. A new start right smack in the middle of our lives. With kids. All of them. We stick together. I need each one of them. They need us, too.

I don't want to be cryptic any longer but I have said all that is allowed until a few more details mesh together.

I covet your prayers. They sustain us now just like they did through four adoptions, our journey with reactive attachment disorder and all the other refining tools the Lord has used to whittle us down. And He is still whittling. We have come so far and yet have so far to go.

If you are willing to hang with us, I believe this blog is going to take a very distinct turn.... To the East....Asia-ish...

We are humbled. Again.

Waiting Child Alert!!!!!

I was recently contacted by a blog reader with a huge heart for special needs adoption. She is advocating for a BEAUTIFUL little 5-year-old boy of Chinese heritage who has cerebral palsy . . .oh, he is one cute little muffin!!!!
His name is Alex and he needs a Mommy and Daddy right away.
Alex can be adopted for a VERY small fee (somewhere between $1,000 and $3,000) and he has a generous monthly stipend and medicaid through the state of New York to help insure he receives good care until adulthood. Alex can be seen in the video below.
If you decide to watch it, hold onto your heart because he is JUST SO tiny and
cute!

Are you the family for Alex?




For information on Alex, please contact
Debra at truelymd@aol.com

Please pray about what the Lord would have you do. And do it. Let the blessings flow!!!!

Red Skies in the Morning, Sailors Warning

James 4:17
So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin.


More choppy waters on the home front. And a safe harbor at the end of the day.

Our struggling son has ONE ally in this house. ONE person who he has not injured, lied to or worn out to the point of weariness. Our newest son.
Newest Son is a Godsend for so many reasons. He not only brings extra light, life and cheer to this home but he was perceptive enough to know right away that our struggling son has "issues" and he shared with me that he feels like he can be a good influence on Struggling Brother. He has been. He is.

But last night, Struggling Brother blew it.

(side note)
Our home is structured like most Filipino homes. Our younger children are expected to show respect and obedience toward their older siblings. The older siblings are expected to be kind leaders who put the needs of the younger children before their own. Our younger kids have to call the olders "Kuya" (big brother) or "Ate" (big sister). Is is a family structure that has been in place since our first kids were born and I love the way it plays out. Our kids do NOT hit one another. Our younger children have NEVER said to an older sibling "you're not the boss of me" or "I don't have to listen to YOU! YOU'RE not my father/mother". The olders are, in fact, the "boss of you" and you DO have to listen.
Likewise, we don't see cruelty from your olders to our youngers. It's a structure I would never have known had I not married into it and it's one more reason I'm so HAPPY to be married to my Filipino hubby!Well, that and the incredible food his culture has brought into my life (can somebody pass the pancit, please?).
(end side note)

Struggling Son walks into the room where New Son is playing an NBA video game and says "I want to play". New Son says "I'm in the middle of my game. You can play next". Struggling Son says rudely "I PAID FOR THAT GAME" and proceeds to plug in a controller and pause the game on New Son.
New Son shows great restraint in putting down his controller, saying "here, have it" and leaving the room.
Struggling Son says "sorry, sorry, sorry" over and over as he realizes he's about to get into trouble.
New Son keeps walking, goes to his room to cool off (well done!).

Struggling Son, my great saboteur and self isolator was in need of putting a chasm between himself and New Son, who has been a great friend to him.
It hurt me to see this play out. It hurt me for both boys. I went upstairs to talk to New Son first. He was very understanding. He said "I see how it is with him and I always try to help him but NOW I see why nobody wants to spend time with him."
Sad but insightful. And true. But still mostly sad.

I go into Struggling Son's room next to talk through what he did, why he feels he did it and how he can now fix it. He GREATLY over reacts and ends up telling me that he doesn't want to be close to me. He will be out of the house soon and he's fine if he and I don't have a relationship. I did NOT make this event about he and I. He did. Everything always comes back to me and him in his mind. It's the "mother part" of Reactive Attachment Disorder. I'm paying for the sins of others. I think I always will. I hope not but I think so.

Struggling Son pouts for awhile but, hey', it's "Fun Friday" and we always watch a movie as a family and have popcorn and/or ice cream. Struggling Son comes out to watch the movie but refuses the food. Apparently, he doesn't need anything from US. He sits in a bean bag chair he has slid as far from the rest of us as possible. It's a small house. He can't go far. But he's here. That's progress.

We watch "Tangled" and it ends at about 9pm - still early for a "Fun Friday" so we decide to Netflix "Mars Needs Moms". It's a little dark for kids and pretty odd but we didn't pay extra for it so I eat my havarti and crackers while we watch.
Immediately, the child in the movie gets into trouble and tells his mother he doesn't need her! He tells her he wishes he didn't have a mom! A tear slips down mom's cheek as she gently shuts his bedroom door.

I hear a sniffle that is NOT coming from the television.
Struggling Son is all teary on his bean bag.

By the end of the movie (spoiler here . . . ), the son is clinging to his mother and telling her how much he needs and loves her. He talks about how she tucks him in at night and feeds him. How she vacuums the house and bandages his cuts. How she washes his clothes and cheers at his soccer games . . . gulp. . .

Struggling Son is in the bean bag and is now wrecked. He is trying to sob silently but not all that successful in said endeavor. The occasional wet snort reverbs around the room.

The lights are all off. The room is dark.

I make eye contact with hubby and slightly shake my head. Hubby is NOT to mention what is taking place. None of us do.
We leave this muscular almost 14 year old, sporting his faux hawk, with a little dignity. We wait until he pulls himself together to turn on the light. He makes a bee line for the bathroom where the nose blowing commences.

I go to my room and wait.
I hear him trying to find me and the slightest little "tap tap" on my door.

He comes in and when he sees me, the water works begin again. Apologies. Forgiveness. It's over. Again.

And so goes it with such a tough and yet fragile child.

I do love him so very much. Sometimes the love gets caught up in the circumstances and swept way like debris in a fisherman's net. But then some connection of his ability to hurt with words will float to the surface and it looks like a buoy in the storm. He's GETTING IT! I do believe he's getting it.
And it scares him so much that he lashes out. And our whole family thinks "here we go again" and some of us wish, secretly and not so secretly, that he was just passing through. And the visit was winding down.
But that's not what our Heavenly Father called us to.
We met him in that psyche hospital. We prayed to our sovereign God to show us how far we were required to go and our loving, all-knowing, always-good Father said
"all the way".
Those are facts that can not disputed. Not then. Not now.

We have to keep on keeping on so the name of our Savior is made to count for something in this little household, among our friends, in our church, hopefully even in the blog community.

We want to make a mark.

We just want all of this to matter. For now and for eternity.

Old Parent Syndrome

I think we have it, my man and I. We're not exactly "old" - I'm in my very very VERY early 40s and hubby is in his much much LATER 40s but we have contracted the syndrome, nonetheless. We can often be found parenting our sweet little Ezekiel more like grandparents than parents. I had my first baby in my early 20s, my second baby in my mid 20s and adopted for the first time in my 30s. I was one organized, scheduled, chart-keeping, line-in-the-sand drawing Mama. My children were on a fairly rigid schedule of chores, homeschooling, extracurricular activities, one hour of TV a day (or less), healthy snacks and almost no computer access. Fast forward seven years and three additional kids later and you'll see us slightly off script and some loose ends getting looser as the days go by.
Here is quantifiable evidence that we have The Syndrome:
1. Ezekiel's bed time is often 10pm, or later
2. Our teens are allowed to watch shows like "Family Guy" and "The Office" that had formerly been completely off limits
3. Some nights when I make dinner, there are no vegetables (unless you count ketchup)
4. A productive day of homeschooling is marked by a little reading, a little math and the baking of cookies with my younger children.
5. I let my youngest two wear costumes in public anytime they want. Why not?
6. I rarely say "no" when they ask for treats at the check-out counter these days.
7. The kids are allowed to wrestle, jump from high places and ride on the dogs until I just can't stand the noise and have to yell "QUIIIIEEETTTT"
8. I am typing this post while Ezekiel jumps on the bed beside me and any feelings of annoyance at this fact evaporate when I look at his "Downsy Goodness" (a phrase we use often to refer to his shenanigans).
Maybe I'm confusing "Old Parent Syndrome" with "Big Family Syndrome" but whatever the ailment, I hope there's no cure! I am having the most fun with my family and feeling the least amount of control freak-ism that I have ever felt as a mother and wife! It's fun. It's freeing. It's contradictory to the early years but the results are equally gratifying. We are truly enjoying these children - me for the first time in my mothering career. I spent a LOT of time dissecting the hearts and motives of my two biological children and focusing on their LACK rather than finding ways to enjoy their gifts while still guiding them in righteous living when they were small. I did have fun with them. I always loved them with every ounce of my existence but as far as enjoying them, it was hard when I spent so much time feeling like any failure to address their sin would result in their eternal damnation. I have come to understand that parenting is discipling. It is a weighty task, not to be taken lightly but at the same time, it can be joyous, abundant, silly, fruitful and productive. I wish I had learned earlier to seek joy, welcome fun and buy more candy!!!!!!
Live and Learn.

I Just Can't Do It All!!!!!

I am sorry. I am ashamed of myself. I am in over my head by at least a mile! While riding in the car with my family yesterday, it dawned on me that a friend reached out to me with a bitterly distressed email and I NEVER ANSWERED HER! I read her plea for prayers and knew how hard it must have been for her to pour her heart out to me and I NEVER REPLIED! I am horrified! I vividly remember thinking after reading her note that I needed to give it the proper time and attention and I would respond when I had a little more time to pray and think.
I am not a blackberry user and from within my Astro Van, I had no way of rectifying this situation. I worried the whole way home from our family trip to the fair.
After our family outing, I headed into the house to first apologize to and then reply to my hurting friend. It was then that I noticed the message light on the answering machine blinking. I hit the button and listened to three new and four old messages. Two of the old messages were from people who needed my attention promptly. If two days later qualifies as "promptly", I guessed I was still in the clear. But it doesn't.
I decided to do damage control regarding those messages later and to attend to my friend's email. When I pulled up my email account, I noticed seven new people are "following my boards on Pinterest". . . . I have only been on Pinterest once and I couldn't exactly get the hang of it. I felt guilty that I needed to either delete my Pinterest account or snazz it up and make it worth following.
My sweet 11 year old niece has tried to skype with me at least a dozen times in the last two weeks. She leaves me the cutest notes on my skype account, complete with little hearts and kisses. I love her. I want to talk to her but I can't seem to milk five minutes from my crazy life to do that.
I am writing this blog post for two reasons. First, to ask for forgiveness publicly from those I have unwittingly (or maybe "wittingly") ignored lately. Second, to tell those family members who have made comments about my needing to "stop biting off more than I can chew" that you are sort of right but a little wrong as well.
We're still in a state of transition and I am trying too soon to jump back into full swing.
As we settle into our "new normal" over here as a family that has gained two children in less than two years, I am still learning. I am learning that everything takes a little longer now than it used to. Everything is on a slightly bigger scale and, as much as I truly love having one on one time with my family members, it is harder to come by as we grow. Amidst trying to do right by my husband and children, serving the Lord in the adoption community and eeking out a tiny bit of time for reading or friends, I have let things slide - some in unforgivable ways. I want to do better but for me, doing better has to mean doing less. My walk with Christ has to come first. If I don't spend time with Him every day - sometimes a LOT of time, I am not the kind of person anyone would share her heart with, in an email or otherwise. Second place goes to my family. Spending time with and taking care of them gives me joy that I have found nowhere else. Having dinner together or playing games (like the big candy hunt we had tonight in lieu of trick or treating) is always restful for my spirit, even when it's noisy and chaotic in my home. Third is the ministry God has given me. The ministry that makes my heart go "thump thump" is anything related to adoption - from praying over files of waiting children to talking to families struggling with a tough placement. I am truly charged up and revived in that role! All the rest, when I can find time for it, is icing on the big, messy cake that my life has turned into.
I have come to realize that "catching up on things" may never happen. I may just have to "start over" with better priorities and pray that anyone I have offended by not being available will show me some grace. So, I erased the answering machine, deleted my Pinterest account, left my niece a message on HER skype wall and canceled a meeting I was supposed to facilitate.
I'm all done overestimating my importance. The world still turns without my direct involvement and that is such a freeing revelation. I can say it loud and proud . . . . . I JUST CAN'T DO IT ALL . . . and I was never meant to.

Bonding - The Flap and the Facts

In the adoption world, much is made of the concept of "bonding". Children who are not bonding with their new families in the allotted length of time (usually 6 months) are suspected of having attachment disorder. Parents who do not feel a strong bond to their newly adopted children immediately often become terrified and wonder "what if we DON'T BOND?". Parents who struggle to feel bonded to their new child in the first month or two often assume their adoption is doomed to failure and begin considering disrupting the adoption for fear that a lack of bonding is the kiss of death. I am here to tell you that bonding is important but it is not the only glue that holds an adoptive family together.
Let me tell you straight: I am firmly bonded with three of our four adopted children. Two of them came to us in diapers and I have been up to my elbows in their . . .um . . . excrement and not batted an eye. I could not do that for a neighbor's child or even a niece or nephew. Only for one of my own. Just a couple of weeks ago, our newest son got a stomach virus. I knelt beside him and rubbed his back as cup o noodles poured from every orifice. Not only was I NOT grossed out, I felt only pity for his illness and barely noticed the splashage on my night shirt. Yup . . . he's mine.
Those of you who have been around this blog for awhile know the struggles we've had with our thirteen year old. He came to us at age eight and has put us through the ringer with lying, sneaking, disobeying and hurting other children. He came home from residential treatment last May after a 7-month placement. He is not attached to us and THAT IS OKAY. I am parenting a child who does not really love me. AND THAT IS OKAY, TOO. I am here to tell you that it can be done! Attaching in adoption is beautiful but it is not mandatory for a successful placement.
We recently visited a friend's church and a sweet young man from the youth group came and introduced himself to my teens. He invited them to come and sit with him. All of my teens refused except . . . you guessed it . . . my little RADish. He left us in the back of the church without even looking behind. He is no more outgoing than my other children. He is no more social. He just does not prefer our family to other people - in public or in private. When you read a narrative of a child who is waiting for a family and that narrative says "little Johnny has never met a stranger . . . " you can bet dollars to doughnuts that little Johnny has attachment issues. I used to believe that Reactive Attachment Disorder was a ruse. I thought that psychologists made it up in order to sell books and keep their client lists long. BOY, WAS I WRONG! I have no doubt that our son has a significant attachment disorder. He interacts with us as if he's reading from a script. He is not genuine but his words say the right things. When he hurts someone, he is contrite but his eyes are hard. He tries to give his toys away to kids he just met but then is stingy and greedy with family members or close friends of the family. He compliments strangers about their shoes, cars or physical appearances in an odd cadence and during our church's greeting time, he hugs visitors but stands stiffly if a family member extends their arms. Trust me, he is not suffering from mal treatment in our home. He does not recoil because we have hurt him in some way. He just does not like to be close with us - physically or emotionally.
Recently we were able to start a skype relationship with his older brother who still lives in The Philippines. I once asked Lemuel if he wanted to see if his big brother remembers their mom and dad. He could not, for the life of him, figure out why he should care about his birth family. He knows his birthmom is deceased but he said flatly "I don't want to know anything about that stuff" and went on to put his ear buds in and crank up his mp3 player. I could fill at least ten lengthy blog posts with evidence that our son is not securely bonded to us or to anyone.
He cares little about his past. He does not want to keep ties with former caregivers or orphanage mates. He is happy to see them if the opportunity arises but he never asks. He has a biological brother in the same state we live in and I have reminded him often that he can call or see his brother any time he wishes. He simply says "okay" but never pursues contact. Take my word for it. This child has all the textbook symptoms of RAD except that he does not set fires, does not treat his "mother figure" with contempt and does not have sexual deviance issues. He has been with us for more than FIVE YEARS and has never shown genuine sympathy, remorse or unsolicited affection. . . NEVER. I think you get the point. He isn't very bonded to us. He's happy to have a place to call "home". He likes my cooking and he lives for his birthday and Christmas when he gets lots of cool "stuff". He likes "stuff" an awful lot. He found a way to get a football team mate to get him some very nice Nike cleats and I still don't have the facts straight on that story. I'm sure he painted us as some sort of derelict parents who only shop at yard sales and could never buy new cleats - to be honest, I don't really care to chase that bunny down the trail anyway. He has besmirched our reputation countless times. We are growing immune to besmirchism.
Even as I type, he sits in the livingroom eating popcorn and watching "Mr. Bean" with two of his siblings. He is laughing his head off and having a blast. He HAS TO LIVE SOMEWHERE and I have been blessed with three precious adopted sons and two amazing biological children who truly love me. They all think the sun shines out of my . . . um . . . "eyes" and so, I can muddle through with one child who does not follow suit.
Is it difficult parenting an unattached child?
Absolutely! If he was my first child or if he was my only child, I would be devastated. If he was violent or sexually inappropriate with anyone under this roof, I would disrupt the adoption but he is neither. He is just a broken little boy who, for self preservation, decided early on that he could count on no one but himself. And that is how he lives his life.
How does his attachment problem play out in everyday life?
First, he needs to be supervised 100% of his waking hours. If he is not supervised, he plays waaaay too roughly with younger children. He steals on occasion. He is loud mouthed and obnoxious. He has a "me first" attitude to the Nth degree - and no amount of training, punishing or guilting has freed him from these habits. He is addicted to video games and will literally shed tears over lost games but he is remiss to cry over a flesh and blood person he has hurt. He eats to the point of feeling sick if he is not watched. He puts others down verbally. He tells lies about our family that paint us in a less-than-favorable light.
Would you do it all over again if you knew then what you know now?
No. I would not. Not with this child. It's like asking a person if he would choose to have an amputation without anesthesia. It hurts incredibly. It changes life in ways that nobody would choose but I know it's "right" that he's here. I know that God is sovereign and HE put that boy in our house for the duration of his childhood. He needs to be trained and guided and shown the love of Christ to have even a snowball's chance in hell of having some semblance of a normal adulthood. We've been charged with the task and we must rise to it.
/Why didn't you disrupt the adoption early on when things were so bad?
We didn't disrupt because God placed him in our home and we never felt free to change the arrangement. We had no peace about disrupting. We did not believe that a new family would somehow be able to show him how to attach. We believed, and still do believe, that sending him from our home would just start a chain reaction of multiple placements that would reinforce his innate sense of self preservation.
What if he reads this post?
He won't care. I let him read the post about adoption disruption that featured his life story. He could not have cared less. I wanted to get his permission to publish it because it was so very personal. I shared with him that it could help people to understand some things about adoption. He asked me if I would add something that tells how good he is at football and how he's not scared to fight even if the other guy is bigger than he is.
How do YOU feel about him, really?
Honestly, sometimes it really sucks parenting an unattached child. There's a lot of "give" on my part and a ton of "take" on his. I believe that when he is older he'll leave us for a better deal and may not even keep in touch. That's sad. It's hard to invest in someone when the pay off is miniscule. It's hard to keep tending to the daily needs of a child who casts aspersions behind your back. It's also very freeing. My goals are different with this child than with the five others. I hope to help him learn a little empathy for others so he does not hurt people who want to be close to him. I teach him to fear the law so he does not end up incarcerated. I stress to him the love that Jesus has for him and that it is NOT conditional upon him feeling "warm fuzzy feelings" toward God. We are on a very basic track with him. I know that our other five children will have more "normal" lives. I know there will be weddings and grandchildren (oh, I long for those grandchildren!!!!) and job decisions and that they will call home to my husband and I for advice on life-altering decisions. I know they will. I know Lem won't.
I realize it sounds like I have completely eschewed God's ability to heal. I used to pray for Lem's healing and his bonding a hundred times a day. Five years later, I believe it's time to take another approach. I remain open to and hopeful for God's miraculous hand but realistically, we need to plan for the "what if he never attaches to us". That seems to be the eventuality.
Forgive me if this post sounds dismal. It is meant to encourage! We have a joyous, full, happy family life. There are so many fun times, so much physical affection, so many games, sports and chores together that we treasure and enjoy. Every child, Lem included, is here for a reason. Every life is precious to God and He is refining and shaping us all. It's just that with Lem, his heart is off limits to the rest of us and we have to rely on Jesus to get in there and touch the places that we will not be allowed to go near.
If WE can do it, YOU can do it! So your adopted child doesn't open up to you, tell you with sincerity how much he loves you . . . sometimes knowing he would if he could has to be enough. It has to be.

But Who's Counting?

I want to tell you a little bit about one of my best friends. Those of you who know me in "real life" probably know her, too. Her name is Thea and she and her husband have nine beautiful biological children with another on the way! Thea helped me lay down my fear of having a large family just by letting me get to know hers - the good, the bad and the messy (ha ha)- she reminds me often that God decides who comes to our table and HIS decisions are always right . . . I need to hear that from time to time.
Recently Thea and Steve read the book "Radical" by David Platt. She and I spent many hours talking about our own lives and ways that we might live more radically for Jesus. Thea has had a heart for adoption for a long time but her calling became even more clear through study of God's word and His mandate for us to truly abandon ourselves to Him . . .no matter how "far out" his path for our lives may look to the rest of the world. So, as crazy as it seems, God called this VERY large family to grow even larger through the miracle of adoption. After much prayer and soul searching, the family decided to request a match with two beautiful brothers from Ethiopia! They ARE beautiful, too. I've seen pictures and video that make me wish I had seen them first . . . but, no, they are destined to be Thea's and the Lord has made it plain.
The family is in the throes of raising money for their adoption. Their precious children have made some incredible stationary and survival bracelets (long pieces of rope that are braided into pretty bracelets but can be unwound and used to save you if you find yourself in a "Bear Grylls" situation sans the years of training).
You can check the bracelets out at www.fromgodstummy.blogspot.com
It's a truly novel idea. I'm getting a purple one!
Another way you can help this family is to come to our local Chic-fil-a restaurant at Cary Towne Center on October 25th from 5-8pm, order some dinner and tell the cashier that you are there to support the adoption fundraiser. Chic-fil-a will donate 20% of your meal purchase price to the family's adoption fund. We had this very same fund raiser for Francis' adoption and it was SO much fun and so very successful!!!!
Finally, the most tangible way you can help my friends is to pray for them. During the adoption process, families tend to face grueling spiritual attacks. There is money stress, extended family's dissension, doubt of hearing God's calling correctly . . oh, you name it! Adoption is hard and wonderful at the same time. Please pray that my friends have a lot more "wonderful" than "hard".

WAR . . . What is it good for?

I'm going through a stretch of bad attitude right now . . .no, not from one of my teens . . my OWN bad attitude! I'm tired. I'm too busy and the joy I normally find in serving my family is at war with a "woe is me" mind set (and woe is kicking joy's butt)!

I know my attitude is wrong. I am trying to fix it. I have been praying and reading God's word regularly. I have been attempting to take those "everyone is dumping on me" thoughts captive but not always succeeding. The sad thing is, nothing around here has changed. My children are generally helpful without me having to ask. They get along well and we rarely deal with fighting (I attribute that to the Filipino style of leadership here where the younger children must listen to the olders - there's no "you're not the boss of me" crap happening around here because, yes, if he is older than you, he IS the boss of you. IF he's a mean boss, I'll take him down myself!). We're not under financial stress or a health crisis (praise God) but I'm just having to work double time NOT to get resentful quickly.

I don't believe I'm having any post-adoption blues. I had those after one of our earlier adoptions and I know how they feel - much worse than this. I think that somewhere along the line, I have allowed the Enemy to slide a paradigm shift into my brain and I'm not looking at things with the most Godly perspective. I also believe that some of my selfless serving of the family was done in my flesh and so it's just not sustainable. Burn out is inevitable when you're not walking in a Holy Spirit fueled manner. On a practical level, I'm just tired. Our public schooler needs to be woken up at 6:30am and I usually stay up waaaaay too late at night trying to get a little quiet time to read or just see what's new on craigslist. It sounds like I need a vacation ALONE but I believe that would be the worst thing I could do. I have found the concept of "me time" to be a big lie! Whenever I do get a little "me time" (out to dinner with a friend or Anthony takes all the kids to a movie and leaves me home alone) I don't tend to feel refreshed afterward. I tend to feel more greedy for just a little more of that time . . .I think "me time" feeds the beast but maybe that's just me. I find the remedy for eyes-on-self syndrome to be serving others just a little bit more.
Now that I've dumped all my dirty laundry on the doorstep of this blog, I think it's time to sign off, spend some more time in prayer and see if I can recognize the cure for my slump when God offers it! I know it's just around the corner. He's always been so good to convict and cure me in the same time frame. I'm definitely convicted . . . looking forward to "cured"!

Romans 7
21So I find it to be a law that when I want to do right, evil lies close at hand. 22For I delight in the law of God,in my inner being, 23but I see in my members another law waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. 24Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? 25Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!

Waiting Children - SO Many Hidden Jewels!

I know that many of my readers have a heart for children. Some are considering another adoption or praying about the right time to begin their first. Let me start by saying that I am not a salesperson and generally do a terrible job of pitching anything to anyone. Now that I've cleared that up, let me do my level best to convince you that, if God is calling you to adopt, The Philippines is a MARVELOUS country to consider!
I DO NOT want to be challenged by anyone regarding the tired old "why not adopt from the US . . . so many kids in foster care . . . taking care of our OWN . . .etc. etc.
That is another argument for another post. I have had it too many times and it's wearying. If you are called to adopt strictly American foster children, this may not be the post for you. However, IF you are open to travel, have a heart for kids outside of this country and a belief that EVERY life is precious to God - no matter where that life came to be, you may want to read on.
I have photos and narratives of literally dozens of beautiful, deserving Filipino children waiting for families. These children range in age from 2 years old to 15. There are boys and girls. Some have special needs and some do not, aside from their ages. There are sibling sets and singletons. There are hearing impaired, visually impaired, cognitively delayed and mobility impaired children featured along with perfectly healthy boys and girls who are just a little too old to be "easy to place". I love reading the files our agency receives and praying for each child. I have found three of our treasures from within these files. If you are GENUINELY interested in Philippine adoption, please contact me and we'll talk!
The rules set forth by the Inter Country Adoption Board prohibit any photos or specific information on these precious kiddos being placed on the internet.
I will tell you there is a child on that list whom I find particularly marvelous. He is a 14 year old boy of mixed Filipino/Kuwaiti descent. He is handsome and smart. His narrative reminds me so much of the information we received on Francis while we were pursuing his adoption - no problems, no red flags, he can play guitar and leads worship but simply was not available for adoption until he was already considered "old". It was a legal issue that kept him from being available, not his fault. If you are considering taking a BIG LEAP OF FAITH, please consider this 14 year old young man. PLEASE!
Here are some of the positive aspects of adopting a waiting child from The Philippines:
1. When compared to other international programs, the Philippine program is inexpensive.
2. The write ups, medical information and background info offered on the children are reliable and true. The ages of the children tend to be accurate.
3. ONE TRIP is required by ONE PARENT and the stay in country is only 5-7 days.
4. English is widely spoken in The Philippines and accommodations are very tourist friendly.
5. The process is transparent. Unlike some countries open for international adoption, you will NOT BE asked for additional money after your fees are paid to your accredited US agency. You will know before the process even begins how much each step will cost. There are no unpleasant surprises!
6. The Philippines is a Hague country and works to comply with all Hague regulations.
7. Some of the criteria for adopting from The Philippines (weight and age of adoptive parents) CAN be waived on a case by case basis for special needs/waiting children.
There are other positives to this program but I fear this post is already getting too long.
If you are out there reading and feeling that little flip flop in your belly, maybe that is your cue to email me and learn a little more about the amazing, precious, beautiful, life-changing children who are just a plane ride away and waiting for parents to claim them!

Eight Days And Counting

Eight days . . . that is how long it's been since our 13 year old told a lie, got into a little trouble and stopped speaking to us! I realize this post is going to sound flat out wacky to friends who have not adopted a wounded child AND to those who know how strict we are. Some of you may be scratching your heads and wondering how in the world we have allowed a child to shun us for eight days. Hang with me . . .
For the five years since our 4th oldest has come into the family, we have entered a cycle in which he lies (pathologically), we discipline (through grounding or other consequences that speak to the infraction), he cries hysterically for upwards of an hour and then gives us the "silent treatment" for days at a time. We have tried many methods to cope with this vicious cycle and have not found a way to break this pattern. We can not, as responsible parents, allow him to lie to us without addressing it. He can not, for some unknown reason, be confronted on a lie without spiraling into a crying jag. It is one of life's great mysteries - like Stonehenge or crop circles.
In days gone by, I made sure to put a swift end to his silent treatment by going to him and MAKING him talk it out. I would tell him how much we love him, pray with him, hug him, etc. Sometimes I would even go as far as to take responsibility for the silent time by telling him that I, as the adult, should come to him and make sure our relationship was good after any discipline is meted out. He always acquiesced and things would get back to "normal". This last EVENT hit me right in the heart and my husband and I both became as fed up as we have ever been with the "silent treatment". This young man is hurtling toward 14 years old and he has no idea how to "do" relationships. He is all take and no give. We decided this time around that we are not pursuing him. HE told the lie. HE chose to throw a two hour tantrum in his room and HE needs to "man up" and fix the mess he made with his silent treatment.
I told him so.
I marched into his room after waiting FOUR DAYS for him to start talking to/hanging out with the family again. I let him know that he created this chasm with his attitude and he needed to figure out how to fix it. He said "okay" and proceeded to continue on in silence.
He comes quickly when called to dinner, mind you. He is all too happy to accept rides home from football practice with us. He had no problem ordering off the menu at our recent family dinner out or washing his sweaty football clothes in our washer. He just doesn't want to talk to us.
His pride is killing the relationship between himself and the rest of us.
I have come close, on several occasions, to slipping back into the old habit of having a nice long talk with him and spoon feeding him his repentance. But I can't.
I feel so strongly in my spirit that this NEEDS to come from him. It's okay if it sounds like bumbling. It can be off the mark. It can be out of left field and not really address the problem but it needs to be HIS effort to mend HIS mistakes.
"Why now?"
He is becoming a man. He is handsome and athletic. Girls are stupid around him. Although our family does not condone dating in the teen years (we're a "courtship only" operation), he is under our roof less than the other children as our only public school student. He will have the opportunity to reject our teaching and "date" if he can keep it under wraps. His lying is going to deeply wound some unsuspecting young lady. She will not be so gracious as to chase him down and hand feed him an apology. He MUST learn to mend fences.
He craves friendships with other young men but as a person with no ability to admit his mistakes and genuinely ask for forgiveness, he risks extreme loneliness in the years ahead. He has to acquire the skill of humbly seeking restoration.
He hopes to join the military someday. The ability to accept correction WITHOUT the silent treatment following that correction is crucial. A commanding officer is not going to allow him to stare blankly because he's "mad". The discipline will be sure and swift in this environment and his "hurt feelings" aren't going to amount to a hill of beans in the REAL WORLD.
I can not bend on this one. I can not go to him and fix his mess.
It would be most unloving for me to, once again, show him how to "undo" what he's done.
I could have stopped this snowball of silence on day one by walking right up to him and telling him how ridiculous and disrespectful his behavior is. He would have WELCOMED that contact, as he has in the past, and been grateful for that springboard from which to re initiate communication.
He is waiting for it. I can tell. Even though I told him it was up to him to figure out how to fix this, he is holding out hope that I will miss him so much I'll come and sit on the edge of his bed and start the ball rolling... again.
I won't.
Ever again.
Starting now, I am free from keeping him from feeling the true effects of his actions.
This is a game of "chicken" and I am not flinching. I want to but I won't.
This is the ugly side of older/wounded child adoption. These things that happen in our home are things I would have NEVER allowed back in the day when I knew everything about parenting. . . back when a friend once told me that spanking didn't work with her son and I replied, full of an obnoxious amount of confidence, that she just wasn't doing it hard enough. Back when I had two perfect children, one boy and one girl, and I had "Ezzo-ed" them into little Pharisees, I would have criticized a mom like me for being such a wuss. I would have blamed her for letting a 13 year old have too much power and I would not have been her friend. She would have sickened me.
But that was then. I am much stupider now and those black and white parenting issues sometimes muddle into a gray pool of mush. Every behavior infraction isn't a "sin" and I'm not a meaner version of Jesus - doling out justice but never mercy.
I am feeling my way along the cave wall in the dark and praying that the voice I hear is who I think it to be and not an imposter, giving bum advice on how to deal with this difficult child.
I still, five years into this adoption, have NO idea why God did not give that young man to a more experienced family. Why he did not go someplace where he would be the center of someone's universe instead of such a fringe character in a scenario with parents who still have so much to learn.
Right now, he sleeps under his Pottery Barn Kids comforter with the surfer emblazoned on it. He has his first football game tomorrow where he will play second string. I KNOW he wanted to talk about the game with us today several times but he would not allow himself. He bit back the excitement and stoically trudged along beside us. I know him. He is nervous and excited. He usually chatters incessantly when he's like that but not this time.
I don't know how long he can hold out. We invited him to come watch a DVD with us a few nights ago and he said "okay" and then never came out of his room. He is acting like the offended party rather than the OFFENDER.
I want to shake him and hug him all at once. I think the "shaking" thing is looking more attractive than the "hugging", in all honesty.
It is my prayer that tomorrow, in the morning, as I wake him up for school, he will decide to tear down the wall of silence he has built and humble himself.
If not, I'll do what I do worst . . .wait.

"Update" . . . yawn . . .

I've been holding off on blogging for a while in hopes that our new family pictures would be ready for the posting. They aren't. They haven't even been taken yet. We keep planning to take family pictures and then some appointment, commitment or unexpected "thing" cuts in line. I am hoping in the next week we will get those pictures taken. I am bothered by the huge portrait that hangs over my couch and contains neither Ezekiel nor Francis. That picture is not my family . . . it's only part of my family. I am even more aware that the five close up pictures that line our stairwell are an incomplete set. It seems tolerable to have a picture missing two children but when just one is missing from a grouping, it seems almost "mean". . . I know I'm waaaay over analyzing this photo thing but, hey, that's the way my mind works these days.
There isn't much news to report that would be of interest to those outside this family but things are changing around here. My husband sold his Harley yesterday. My oldest son sold his leopard gecko and I registered Francis and Elliana for an upcoming driver's education class! In a few months THREE of my children -exactly half- will be driving on either a permit or a license! I am going to be spending more time in prayer than ever when that happens.
We have been homeschooling for exactly two days now and it feels good to have a routine again. Everyone feels purposeful and it is obvious. The lazy feel of our home has given way to a structured, forward motion. Chores are done early, students are at the table with books, computers and pencils. I am circulating the room, Ezekiel on my hip, answering questions and checking assignments. I am going to miss this someday. I am keenly aware that, no matter how many times we adopt, at some point this phase of life will end. I will not have a bustling house full of kids to teach, train and enjoy. I suppose I should be looking forward to that time and planning a Disney trip - or something- with my husband (and Ezekiel - ha ha) but I can not even fathom it yet. I don't want this to end. I LOVE my life. I love my tiny house with too few bathrooms and mismatched interior doors. I love the fact that we fill the 8 passenger van when we go out as a family and there's no more room. I love the rulers, pencils, dried markers and broken crayons that litter my counter top on weekdays and I love how the washer and dryer are always in use, whether by me or one of my teens. I love the way the trash has to be dumped twice a day sometimes and the fact that my top dresser drawer is full on unmatched socks of all sizes and colors, waiting for me to have time to sit and find pairs. I love being called "mom" by voices in all stages of puberty - pre, mid and post - and knowing who's voice it is without ever having to look. THIS is what I was created for. To mother, educate, raise, reach out to, accept and cherish these people - to blur the line between "biological" and "adopted" in such a way that nobody wishes he was one and not the other. I pray for strength to live this life with excellence, knowing that the Lord has given me a calling too high to attain on my own. I just can't do it apart from Jesus. And isn't that just the way it should be? Anything we can tackle easily on our own strength is likely NOT our calling.

"God calls the unqualified to do the unimaginable through His power, that is immeasurable, in a world that is unreachable apart from Him who is unchangeable".
Author Unknown

Real Vs. Reality

In the last five or six days, I have taken my seat at this very table and started various blog posts only to delete and never publish them. As every blogger knows, it is crucial to be patently honest in your blogging but there is also a little restraint that sits in the heart while typing. I want so much to be honest and encourage families in their pursuit of adoption or in their walks with Christ! Here is where my dilemma truly lies. Adoption can be so difficult. Teen adoption is notoriously laden with land mines and many such adoptions are unsuccessful. I have done some research and found that between 38% and 75% of adoptions disrupt when the child is over 12 years old at the time of placement. The huge disparity in the numbers seems to be related to the definition of "disruption" - some adoptions are considered "disrupted" when parents retain legal custody but place their child in a group home or alternate care setting. Anyway, I digress . . . My dilemma lies in sharing the reality of our own experience with adopting a teen (which has been absolutely WONDERFUL thus far!) while communicating that our experience is NOT typical. I know the written word carries much weight. I have received countless emails over the course of my time as a blogger that have thanked me for help, teaching, guidance or transparency and it is so humbling. I don't mean to overstate my influence but I certainly do not want a family to believe that adoption is an easy road or that there is any formula for success that I have somehow tapped into. There isn't. It is only by the grace of God that our newest family member has meshed in so easily and is doing so well. It is also by God's grace that we did not disrupt the adoption of our now 13 year old son when he came to us at eight.
It is because of His sovereignty that we have added four precious sons to this family when, in reality, we didn't always know what we were getting into!
The only thing that is "real" and I know to be 100% true is that the God of the universe does what He sees fit when He decides to do it. I know that even when the road to adoption is bumpy and we feel hopeless, He has it all under His watchful eye. I know for a fact that I have grown more in my faith with each adoption and that the hardest adoption has also been the most rewarding spiritually. That is what I know to be true. THAT, is the reality of taking big leaps with the safety net of a sovereign God beneath us the whole time. The reality? We have risked little. We have gained much.