The Continuation of the Back-Story

(Insert the pre-read of: The Beginning of the Back-Story)

… And there in that daily environment, God blessed us with our first child.

The tomboy in my popped out, I wanted a boy. A son to play in the dirt with, run around outside with and bring to soccer or baseball practice. Cute little polo shirts and striped navy pants. Easy button, comfy clothes. SURPRISE! We caught the eyes of our sweet little Rachael Elizabeth on the ultrasound screen. I still remember taking a walk with a dear friend and just crying. I was so disappointed. What am I going to do with a girl? I don’t know the least thing about how to raise a girl. A girl was my lowest level of confidence… with the hairdos and the pink…. and fluffiness. And then there was the whole make-up and self-esteem issues. I was overwhelmed.

I started to get used to the idea as the pregnancy went on. Something about pregnancy sacrifices that bonded me to this little person inside. And then I met her one January 5th. Her beautiful browns. The way she turned into my neck when I sang to her. She knew my voice. She needed me. And I found a world of girl clothes that didn’t have to be pink. And the frills started to grow on me a bit.

I was happy to see my dreams come true as Rachael neared 11 months. I was finally going to get to come home just to be with her. I wouldn’t carry the heartache of raising any more children before I got the chance to raise my own. And the hope of meeting our next one 6 months later, despite the 4.5 months of morning/afternoon/evening and night nausea and sickness, hit me with such joy as I drove away from the office for the last time. The pendulum was swinging back to investing in those God was giving us, instead of asking for their sacrifice alone. (This is not to imply that working Moms are somehow bad Moms, this is just God’s life journey for Matt and I).

And we learned again that I was having another girl. This time it wasn’t too horrible of a shock. I didn’t need a counseling session walk with a friend. Hehe I had grown in my confidence, especially since we hadn’t royally screwed up Rachael…yet.

Abi Grace joined us on a wonderful June 16th evening. And while her pregnancy left me wondering if we’d have any more…. EVER, her blond curls and baby blues stole my heart. Two girls… for this tomboy to raise. God sure had a sense of humor.

God further opened Matt and my eyes to His beloved orphans a handful of months after Abi started sleeping through the night.. you know when we could actually start thinking again, as opposed to the basic survival mode of a newborn. While Abi was more clingy and more “Mommy only” than Rachael had ever been, God opened our eyes to those all over the world that didn’t have that opportunity to attach so strongly or consistently to anyone. Those forgotten. The ones that didn’t cry because they knew no one would come.

I remember calling my Mother after a session at the orphan summit weekend. “Hold Abi close for me, Mom,” I asked her. “There are so many that don’t live to be a year old in this world.” My little eleven month old Abi. I couldn’t get her out of my mind as I filled bags full of life-sustaining food for weak and perishing children’s mouths. Somebody’s baby. …. somebody’s baby…

Shortly after that conference and the continued praying we had done through that time in our lives, God opened our eyes to fostering. I honestly can tell you that I never once thought I’d be a foster mom. I saw the other side of the system. How little you can sometimes know about a kid placed in your home. The frustrations and the challenges and the strains. And Matt was not stained, but not naive to the hurts and the challenges and the trials of having a foster sibling. Matt had never pushed. We are a family. Our own family. So we would make decisions about what was best for our family, under God’s will’s umbrella.

Hannah Joy was added to our family shortly after we had finally jumped through all the foster care pre-trainings and the homestudy process hoops. We were certified… and had a newborn. A girl, naturally, because God knows what I need. And God knows what He is doing.

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The boys came to us one Friday, four hours after a phone call we had our two new responsibilities. Two little strangers to get to know and learn to love. I finally got some boys. Only these ones were different. They weren’t mine. … Or maybe they would be in the future. … Or maybe not. The challenges were great: lice off/on for 8 weeks, hospitalization of our unfamiliar 3 month old struggler and a 30 day illness following the hospital stay which would untrain our night-sleeper Hannah and send us all into a sleep-needing coma for 6 weeks of coughing, phlegm sucking and respirators. We were figuring out twins, Hannah and Little Man being 6 weeks apart. And working through the pains of growing from a family of 2 kids to a family of 5 kids within a 5 month time frame. Our “middlest” Abi was now a SUPER middlest child, adding some new behaviors. Our oldest, Big Guy, was now adding some interesting habits to the mix. And somewhere along the 11 month journey we figured out how to operate as a team. There were beautiful peeks and forging valleys as the boys went through family confusion. And while we wanted “just our three back” in the really hard moments, we also didn’t want the boys to go home to anything but the best home possible. It was a weekly roller coaster at some points of the 11 months and I can tell you now that it was the most stress to date that we have had to figure out. My Matthew showed up with flying teamwork colors. I have never seen us work together so well. We were a well oiled machine of diapers, formula, kid schedules, diaper bags…. people, we could get out of the house in 30 minutes flat going from 5 undressed kids to all ready to go for an afternoon. We were constantly running schedules, play by plays and walkie-talkie like communications by each other to get everyone’s needs met from medicines to wiped noses to clipped finger and toe nails. It was like an assembly line.

And while I wouldn’t give that time back for the world, Matt and I realized in that time that while we were able to live like that… it wasn’t our desire to always live like that. 5 kids age 5 and under was too much to sustain for years on end. So there was much joy and some hurt empty space when the boys went home the week of Christmas. An odd void in wondering how quickly our investment would deteriorate, and old, bad habits would return. And yet how much their hearts were full going back to Mom’s arms. And how proud we were and still are of how far Mom came to make healthy adjustments and sacrifices for her babies.

And we settled back into 3… almost in shock at how easy 3 was. Our house was so quiet. And orderly. And our #4 crept quietly into the end of our chaos and just grew…. and grew in the newfound normal.

Eden Rose. Girl #4 will be joining us this summer. And you know what? I prayed that we’d have another girl. I’ve seen how our Abi and Rachael are dear friends. How they’ve blessed my ears in their giggles over the baby monitor. Their little imaginary worlds exploding with fairy princess tales and rescue missions down the hallway. They are such dear friends, the two of them. And they will be bunk mates for who knows how long.

And then there came our busy little Hannah, flocking to Rachael’s nurturing and butting heads with our drama queen, Abi, while following her around the house in awe. Hannah doesn’t quite understand that her bunk mate is coming soon, but she’ll figure it out that Mommy’s still going to call her baby and rock her even when little Eden shows up on the scene. They each have moved over and shared with the next one in line. Some taking longer than others. But each learning a new level of kindness, compassion and nurturing.

Our orphan care dreams still find their ways into conversations. Funny how you can’t hide your heart. And every Saturday morning Matt and I pray for how our family will be involved in adoption. We continue to do research and await God’s next whisper of direction. International, domestic, fostering to adopt…. we’re just waiting to hear what He’d have for us next.

– – – – – – – – – – – – –

So that brings us all the way to tonight. And the little story I wanted to share. See knowing the back-story helps to fully understand how far God can grow a Mom…. this Mom. How He knows us far better than we ever thought we knew ourselves. And how His love changes us… changes me.

Hannah was down to bed. Littlest goes down earlier than everyone else since she needs more sleep. Rachael and Abi snuggled their little almost four (in a few weeks) and five year old selves into our family reading time on the couch. Teeth freshly brushed. Pottying finished. Hair being taken out of the day’s hairdos (see, I have gotten better… slowly). Abi’s little hand came over to feel Eden move. Poor Abi’s too impatient to really get a good kick but she seems content regardless.

Rachael joined in the fun, partially to stall out bedtime and the other half of her nurturing kicking in. I played along… bonding starts before they meet face to face. This late in the pregnancy game my shirts don’t fit quite so great
(can I get a witness?!). It’s easy to see my belly hanging out. But when it’s just family I don’t care.

See… my girls are learning to define beauty. I already know the media’s message they will have to struggle with in due time. But I want them to remember me as different than the culture. Real. And unashamed. God defines beauty. I want them to wonder why we defined beauty in such a different way than Hollywood ever did. I want it to point them to Jesus.

Abi commented on my belly being fat. It doesn’t bother me anymore. I carry big and low. And she’s not criticizing. Just observing.

“Yep, Abi, Eden’s getting bigger,” I usually answer back with no shame. We want her to get big. And continue to be so healthy – even if she’s already a pound over the average weight for her gestation week.

Abi poked my stretch marks.

“Do those hurt?” Rachael’s compassion kicked in.

“Sometimes they’re uncomfortable,” I was honest as I exposed my baby bump, “but lotion helps them feel more comfortable. It’s just my skin growing and stretching to fit Eden as she grows bigger. Some were from Hannah,” they touched a few. “And some were from you, Abi.” Abi shot an excited smile.

“And some,” I pointed to the really deep ones, “were from you, Rachael. All the way back when you were a baby,” since my five year old is ‘so big’ now.

And then we chit-chatted about the blue veins on my stomach and how they bring blood to Eden so she can keep growing big and strong. And how veins help bring blood all the way down to my toes and all the way up to my head. Abi enjoyed poking my veins and I smirked at being a living science experiment.

“Did you know blood is blue?!” I asked my blondie.

“What?!” said Rachael.

“Yep, it’s blue, but when it comes out of our bodies it turns red. That’s why my veins are blue.”

Abi jumped off the couch and pointed to my spider veins. “Here’s some more!” came her innocence.

“Yep, those are spider veins, don’t they look like spider legs?” I asked her as she poked me again.

“I like these ones,” she said with a smile.

“And here’s my huge long vein,” I pointed to my varicose vein as Rachael helped trace it down my leg.

“This one has a LOT of blood traveling inside.” I explained.

Eden began moving again and we giggled about what part of her body she could be moving.

“How is she laying in there?” Rachael asked. “Is this her head?” She patted an Eden bulge.

Eden squirmed a bit.

“I don’t know, I can’t see in. But when we got to see in with the pictures two weeks ago her bottom was here and her head pointing down with her feet up by her head.”

They giggled at how silly that sounded.

“Is this her bottom?” Abi lost it in hysterics poking at some hard section of Eden.

“Maybe.” We giggled.

“Did you know Daddy used to lay his head on my belly with each and every one of you and try to get kicked in the head?!” I shared.

Then of course after the giggles swept through Abi and Rachael had to try it.

“Now this is the only time it’s okay to let Eden kick you in the head,” I laughed, “Only when she’s inside my belly.”

It was getting late and they were getting a little overly silly. But before they scampered off to their beds, Rachael and Abi both gave Eden a goodnight hug… loving on my belly. And Abi gave my road-map of stretch marks a little kiss. “Goodnight Eden,” came their sweet little voices.

I have tried to make it a point to be honest with my girls. I don’t want to share too much for their little worlds to grasp, but I do want to filter to them real beauty. Beauty not defined by concealer, dieting, or a constant desire to physically look better. Beauty not disguised as idolatry or wrapped in manipulation or a power status. A beauty that strives to be healthy, but embraces motherhood and being a wife in its raw and vulnerable moments. A beauty defined in God’s definition of worth, love and grace.

I see curiosity in their young eyes, but know that self-worth doubt will most likely fumble in through the awkward Jr. High years. And desire to be like everyone else, a carbon copy of culture’s definition of beauty, even if it’s defined in the Christian culture community. may very well be a High School challenge. Outward appearance will drive a message of highest importance, leaving many ladies struggling with self-image for the rest of their lives.

But I want to outwardly embrace my laughing lines… it’s evidence that I laughed. When I’m old I want to have gray hair. It’s evidence that I have been gifted a long life. I want to have crows feet on the sides of my eyes…. fruit of smiling at others. And I am so blessed to have a husband who treasures my “honor marks” left by my wonderful girls. And my stomach will probably never have a six-pack of abs…. my skin will probably never go completely back to what it once was before my big, healthy girls… but I wouldn’t exchange it for the world. Sure I’m going to strive to be healthy and maintain a level of fitness to be able to play with my kids at the park, and chase grandkids eventually, if we are so blessed. I want to be fit enough to walk some flights of stairs without dying for breath and encourage my family through self-sacrifice and self-determination to overcome future 5k’s on a decently regular basis. My body is a temple of the Living God and I want to be healthy and fit enough to do His work that He has for us. But I am not ashamed of my love handles. They are a reminder of carrying little kickers and being a part of the miracle of new life.

I want my girls to learn about that kind of beauty. A beauty defined in My Father’s eyes.

… and maybe that’s why He keeps on giving us girls to raise.

– Thankful, grateful and overwhelmingly blessed.

May 20, 2014 0

The Beginning of the Back-Story

Growing up I didn’t really give much thought to the genders of the kids I wanted to have. I started out wanting to have 16 of them at about age 3 or 4 years old. Then the number dropped to 12 for a while going through elementary school and fell into the back burner of Jr. High and High School’s shadows. In college I knew I wanted to have a good number of kids. I have always adored them and find it quite natural to be in their world. I surrounded myself with kids growing up from helping Moms to play in the other room with their kiddos so they could accomplish tasks independent of kid needs when I was too young to babysit at 9 and 10 years old to babysitting, nannying, going on a few vacations with families and even running church nurseries.

When the idea of a career field came into my world, I naturally gravitated toward an early childhood education teacher. I had helped in teaching environments from the home to Vacation Bible School to even a few tutoring environments. I just love kids. They’re my normal.

In college my early childhood education window opened as God opened my worldview to His heart for “the least of these”. It began in the form of foster care, one branch of forgotten children. Suddenly He taught me how teaching goes so far beyond the classroom and even the very basics of worth, love, and trust need to be taught before a child can move on to enjoying and asserting themselves in Math or Reading or being vulnerable in a challenging subject. I suddenly had a heart change, resulting in a change of my major to Social Work. I began t see my fringe kids in the daycare in which I worked in a totally different light. No, not every case is a social work case, but my eyes were opened to those foster children coming through my afternoon Kindergarten classroom that were “a little more rough around the edges”. I enjoyed being a “secret weapon” substituting in more challenging classrooms. “Who’s name do I need to know?” I would ask the lead teacher of the classroom and then try not to single those kids out for poor behavior problems, but provide structure, consistency and special love to those children. It was cool to see their behaviors change a bit. Nope, I’m no miracle worker, but loving structure goes a very long way in a child’s chaos.

When I met my husband he was one of seven kids, now one of eight with two adopted siblings. He ate, slept and breathed kids, bring the second in the pecking order. Granted, he was one of those kids for the longest, but with parents who consistently ministered to children through foster care since almost as far back as he can remember, his heart and arms were just open. That’s one of the things that drew me to him. See, some can call that being a “family person” but I believe God made my “family man” into so much more through walking with others in their deep hurts and struggles. Barb and Rodger, my in-laws, did a wonderful job of sheltering their children’s innocence while also coming alongside of these really hurt little children in the foster care system. They protected their own blessing while also taking on some pretty tough cases. Their family motto? Christ is more than enough. And that was tested. And it was challenging. And they lost a lot of sleep. And walked in a lot of hard pairs of shoes. And they still have no idea of the impact they had in some of the children’s lives that came through their home for the 18+ years of foster care their family offered.

I joked with Matt that I wanted to have eight kids of our own when we were dating and engaged. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head a few times when he realized I kept repeating the same number… and it wasn’t a joke. He reminded me of how nice four sounded. Hehe. I told my friend and sis-in-law, Ellen, one time that I planned on starting at 8 so we could compromise at 6 kids. We both laughed since Ellen kept talking about a dozen children to her, at the time, new husband. Poor Ron and Matt. Our providers. They must have lost some serious sleep over the thought of feeding so many little mouths on a single salary – you know, since Ellen and I had plans of being stay at home moms. Don’t we sound awful? Hehe.

I worked as a foster care and independent living (transition program from foster care for older teens) case manager as my internship and for a year of my launching board off of college. I wanted to have a baby, but God wanted me to raise a few other kids first. When my car died from all the case management driving, I knew I couldn’t sustain at case management 40+ minutes from the office. The hours were long many days. Too long to start a family. Matt was doing his internship for school. I missed seeing him. It was our first year of marriage.

I switched to individual and group therapy at a program designed for children who had failed out of multiple preschool/daycare settings due to behaviors. We saw every kind of case there from the lack of parenting to the product of broken homes to foster care cases. I had chairs thrown at me, was called everything under the sun, and had so many scratch marks and even a few bite marks while being spit on. Some of these kids entered our program with utter wild in their eyes. They had all the authority. Many of their parents had given up or they had failed out of multiple, multiple foster homes… and they were only 4. I had the group kids who were older. 4 years old until 6 years old when they aged out of our program. Some of the things these kids had been through would bring even the hardest heart to tears. Such innocence stripped. And all was left was a hurt, hurt frail child who hid behind aggression.

And there in that daily environment, God blessed us with our first child.

(Continue on to: The Continuation of the Back-Story)

May 19, 2014 1

Perspective

So I just wanted to give you a little perspective on our family. We took this picture a few months ago when celebrating a kiddo’s birthday. Every child in this picture is 6 yrs old or younger. And this is only two families worth of kids. Yes, we’re that kind of crazy. 10 kids six and under!

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Oh right, and my sis in law is preggers too. =)

Sure it feels like madness around here at moments, but it is a bit odd how well we all click in other moments. It’s sweet that everyone has a plethera of buddies.

This is a picture of what a generation of compassion for the orphan produces.

Thanks for laying the great groundwork, Barb and Rodger.

– Thankful, grateful and blessed.

October 24, 2013 2

Wordless Wednesday: Our Spiderman

Today’s nursery rhyme dress up day in Big Guy’s Kindergarten class. So naturally he picked something AWESOME for me to make.

Paper says: “… Along came a spider, who sat down beside her, and frightened Miss Muffet away.”

He was elated and kept saying “Ahhhhhh” while I assembled it on him.

He couldn’t have cared less that they were repurposed socks. =)

– Love him.

October 23, 2013 1

One Unpredictable Day

Thought I’d give a little update on the boys. It’s been a few weeks of weekend visits and things are going decently enough. There have been struggles in reintroducing an environment that comes with a lot of baggage, but it was expected to say the least. It’s just like in boxing: you’re not quite sure where the blow will come from, but you know it’s coming.

Big Guy has handled it the hardest, naturally. And I am thankful for a Sunday School teacher who just plans on holding him for ten minutes of a cry the morning after his visit. The tears can be provoked by anything really, though they also stemmed from a particular stressor. And I just love his dear Sunday School teacher all the more for being willing to meet him where he is and then let go when he’s ready to move forward.

Big Guy has been enjoying school to an extent and struggling some to another extent. School has been a big transition for him. Less play. More work. Missing out on “our life” here while he’s at school. And running his own schedule. There’s the responsibilities at school that tie over into home here. And the contrast of some of the lack of responsibility while at visits. It’s complicated. And in case you’ve forgotten, Kindergarten asks a whole lot about your family in the beginning. And there’s a poster to be made. And a presentation weekly about other people’s’ families. And that keeps things on your mind a LOT. Things that you have otherwise not really been thinking about when lost in the business of your little world. And they won’t let him run wild like he did in preschool. And it’s hard to be held accountable (let’s be honest). So it’s looked like some lying and some physical aggression to another student after being instigated. But we’re still striving to maintain his heart as his world continues to take on more layers of complication and confusion. And we’re rewarding “green days” (best behavior at school) with immediate outdoor play and attention and bikes and bubbles and roller skates and… get the picture? Yeah, he’s starting to get it too. Sure beats extra chores, eh? Yeah, we’re hoping he agrees too.

And Little Man? Yep, he’s just trucking on. Army crawling. Mouthing everything. Trying more table food. Drooling. Smiling. Laughing. And trying his hand at a bit of traditional crawling. You know, just by fluke. He’s oblivious. And much more consistent. It’s morning wake up. And bottle and naps. And play and the surprise of mealtime food. And just good. And happy. He doesn’t seem too taken aback about visits. His digestion system has matured more so he’s not throwing up visit food anymore. And acid reflux is gone. (HALLELUJAH!!!) And seasonal allergies are controlled. And constant sickness is WAY a thing of the past. He’s showing some normal signs of attachment, some separation anxiety when dropped off in the church nursery and pointing and whining when picked up from babysitting/nursery experiences.Oh yes, baby. I’m convinced it was terrible. I’ll take you back. 😉 But really, the baby is just a much more predictable and well-rounded (in more ways than one) little man.

We’re looking at reunification for mid to late next month. Things can still change. But we are so close. And things are moving in that direction.

Kind of odd to not know if we’ll be celebrating Little Man’s birthday or sending his present with him. Odd to be standing on the brink of change and goodbye and yet it still being a bit far off. So one day at a time we will continue to play it. That’s the way life goes. One day at a time.

One unpredictable day. =)

September 19, 2013 0

Wet Concrete

We received word about the boys. We’re in full-blown reunification. This Saturday they will start Saturday visits for 4 hours at their home. The plan is to do that for 2 weeks, then bump it to 8 hour visits on Saturdays for two weeks, then over-night visits for 4 weeks and then they will move home for good.

There’s not a current court date set, so the time frame is a bit contingent upon that date. Hopefully that date can be set this week and then we will have a date “set in stone” for the boys’ return home, provided that the bottom doesn’t fall out on this case.

It’s a mixture of nerves and excitement here. “This is good for them”, “we tried to assume they wouldn’t stay”, and “we will all be fine” I have repeated in my head. And many times I even believe them. I think about how much calmer it has been around here with Big Guy at school and try to picture the beauty of that norm. I want that norm. But many times the uglier sides of this case refresh themselves in my mind. Who will these boys most likely become physically and mentally as a result of the family environment? And other statistics pop into my mind. I try to shake them, but sometimes they just hit my stomach.

I knew this would be a bit messy. Sin always is. And I can imagine it’s going to continue to get a bit messy as this family tries to mesh back together and forget that the good part of a year has been the byproduct of extreme brokenness. Their family needs to heal.

And so does ours.

I only briefly pictured them living here forever when others said it at the beginning of this case. But even that felt like playing dress-up. Wet concrete is so pliable.

And there are moments that a little hurt hits me as I put away the boys’ clothes or walk past their room.

Boys, I don’t know where you’re going to be. Or what you will become. And it’s hard to smile with you, sweet Big Guy, at your excitement of going home knowing what I know. And seeing the challenges before you. It’s hard to hold you, Little Man, as you struggle through the effects of visit knowing your life is just going to be hard. And we’re handing you over to that.

You were never ours to begin with.

But love still hurts.

We’ll just bring you to Jesus, on our knees… again and again.

He is more than enough in all of this.

Lord mold us.

We are moist and ready.

I trust the Potter’s Hand.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y-W7Md6mv74]

August 22, 2013 4