My Mother

My mother is turning red right this very minute. Don't worry, Mom, I only have about 10 readers... on a good day. This is mostly for you and me. And because I think you're hilarious.

Yesterday was one of those days. It wasn't terrible, mind you, and I wasn't in a bad mood (believe it or not). But it was, none the less, just one of those days. It started when I burnt the pancakes. Almost as impossible as burning soup when you consider I don't mean I burnt one batch on one side. No, every last pancake was crispy, and a few non-edible. Pretty sure pancakes shouldn't be crunchy. It set off the smoke alarm, and I opened doors to get some of the fog out of the house. So we sat, eating crunchy pancakes under the fan in the freezing cold. Nice.

Blessing melted under the noise of the fire alarm, of course. I'm very much so realizing she definitely has some kind of sensory issue, mostly with noises though some seams and tags/materials bother her, too. I already knew it, but it seems more pronounced lately. Do things like that get worse?

It was very cold and wet here, but I actually kind of like those days occasionally. I wasn't feeling the best in the world, and so it was a great day to spend curled up with books (currently re-reading Karyn Purvis's Connected Child, The Dragon Rider to the big kids, and a Junie B. book to the littles) and movies and stay in pajamas. As the day went on I felt worse. I never actually took my temp, but I'm assuming I had a high fever since I was alternating between chills and then that cold sweat that feels horrible. I spent the better part of the day in the recliner, piling on blankets while I shivered, and then agitatedly throwing them off while I sweat to death.

In the morning I had sent my mom a text message. My sister and I love to text each other, and we've been on Mom hot and heavy to join us. My mom is young and hip (is that laying it on too thick?), and never once did I think it was about ability, but about being frugal (she doesn't have a texting plan). She's also kind of turned off to it (as was I before I got addicted) by other people's rudeness with their phones. My text was just a typical, sweet, Good morning, Have a good day kind of text. My sister and I had decided to send her a text everyday until she gives in and gets a plan. Because you know she can't leave them unopened. The suspense would kill her.

That evening, I got a text back. In all caps. Mom, that means you're yelling. Did you mean to yell at me? The text said, "I CAN DO IT BYE". I busted out laughing. Which was needed cause currently 6th grade math had both Faith AND I in tears. I told ya, one of those days. Faith was reading the text(s) along with me, and we both needed that smile. I quick texted my mom back, saying glad she can do it, but I can't do math. Explaining we were in tears. Now if that doesn't rise a compassionate response from your mother, what will?

Then I get back, the same message a 2nd time, "I CAN DO IT BYE". Now Faith and I are really laughing because it's obvious she can't. Even though she did yell at me twice and I was already in tears, we over looked that part and wittingly replied, "Are you sure you can do it?". And then we quit math and giggled over it more while we soothed ourselves with chocolate and coke. I said , "Math sucks". And then Faith (12 years old) gave me a speech about the word "sucks". I'm getting that mother-of-the-year award this year, dang it.

Yep, estrogen overload

What he said: "If you want to go, then go. Obviously I always want you with me. But I know you're here all day everyday without much chance to get out, and I want you to go if it's what you want."

What I heard/felt: "If you go, it means you don't want to be with me the way I want to be with you (and you should feel really crappy and guilty about that)."

Sheesh. Poor guy. He has to live with me. What am I saying? I have to live with myself. And I HAVE to hear all my thoughts. Any of you other ladies this crazy?

2009

I'm through reflecting, now... on to the new year! I used to never ever make new year's resolutions. I figured why make them only to feel like a failure when 6 weeks in life was still the same.

Then I grew up. A little, anyway. I realized the problem wasn't with the idea, it was the unrealistic expectations I set forth. Or the perfectionism in me that throws me into fits of guilt and failure when I don't live up to my own bar. Grace, love, and mercy from my God was something I knew for others, and knew He had for me. I had not yet really accepted it for myself. And some preacher man called that what it was.... faithless. Not really believing God is who He says He is. And I let go a little and allowed myself to fail without it affecting my worth.

Well, some days, anyway. That's a daily struggle. Along with patience and kindness and most of the other fruits of the Spirit. Some moments it comes easily. Some moments it gets acted out with clinched teeth. Some moments it just doesn't happen at all, and I'm looking around for all the fruit. Where the heck did it go?

And I'm rambling on like this was not a planned post. That's sarcastic, by the way. I really had no direction at all as I sat down to type. I just knew today's post had to have something to do with the coming year.

I did make resolutions of sort, I suppose. But they aren't any different than the resolutions I make every morning before my feet leave the warmth and comfort of my bed and dive into the morning. Today, I'll be more patient. Today, I'll get agitated less. Today, I'll enjoy my children. I'll love harder and gripe less. I'll be gentle and soft spoken and meet my family's needs without a hint of frustration. I'll spend more time with my God, and less with the TV. I'll have supper on the table when my husband gets home (always, but most of the time it's half eaten and he eats by himself - something isn't quite right about that), and we'll all greet him with enthusiasm.

Maybe. Maybe not. The good thing is, I can try again tomorrow. That's what life is, anyway, isn't it? Striving for better, for more of what we know is good, and less of what makes our skin crawl with regret. Here's to a new year. A new journey. And giving God all the glory along the path.

Reflection

Wordless Wednesday just really deserves a few words. We'd been threatening to put up the Christmas decorations for several weeks, not caring that it was way too early by some folks' standards. I LOVE this time of year, and the kids were begging, but we were simply just too busy till the week of Thanksgiving. That was an emotional week, as we had a little drama concerning family gatherings and a new baby girl that just so happens to have skin slightly darker than ours. (It was extended family, you can rest assured all of our parents and siblings have been nothing but smitten by the new baby) It was really not at all worthy of a response from my husband and I, though we were "barred" from a few gatherings over the course of a year. It doesn't at all affect us directly other than those gatherings that have been tradition, but we aren't bothered by that. We are, however, completely disgusted with a still living idea among "Christians" that white and black people (though, I say again, she is not black, or at least, not just black) should not live or worship together. I new that it would not be a choice that other family members would make for themselves, but I really fully believed they couldn't possibly look at a baby in desperate need of a loving family and deny that based on color, or even believe that we shouldn't, as foster parents, care for her. Apparently, when they showed up at the door, I was supposed to take a look and say, "oh, wait, she's the wrong color, take her back." ( I actually did know that she was bi-racial before she came, but you get the idea).

Anyway, again I'm chasing rabbits, but it does help you understand my frame of mind that week. It made me sick (literally, I spent much of the week nauseous) to think of this little girl's future rejection and hurt because of some people's ignorance. I'd look in her little face and my heart would break. Oh, how Satan is so skilled at attacking those things that we just slightly question about ourselves, and then suddenly confidence in who we are... and whose we are, and the very things that make us beautiful become something we hate about ourselves. My husband and I fully anticipated rejection towards ourselves, but I suppose I did not process that rejection all the way down to the little one, and what she might one day feel. I also did not consider the affect it would have on our parents. I mean, I knew they would love and accept, so I didn't blink. I'm now realizing it affects their relationships with their siblings and their immediate families. I'm not as confident as I once was.

But I can tell you what I am... and that's fully in love. Oh, how wonderful it is to hold her, to feel her warm breath against my neck as I rock and sing. She's smiling at us now, recognizing our voices, and even turning to see her foster sisters playing. Our 3 a.m. feedings are special quiet times when I get to hear what she has to say... those sweet little coos and beautiful eyes that lock on mine.

And she's not the only huge blessing in our life. As I hung those stockings across the mantel, I got really tickled. I was laughing so hard as I was trying to get them all to fit up there. My husband was laughing at me, and saying, "What in the world are you laughing at?" "Look at these!", I said. "I can't even fit them all up here! We really have too many kids, we're gonna have to hang some on the wall!" And as I stood gazing across 8 stockings, suddenly my laughing became crying. Poor Hubby. He was looking at me like I was from outer space again. I know, so completely womanish and hormonal. But really, this year has been the wildest ride EVER. We've had a total of 8 kids, 4 of them brand new to our home this year. There have been ups like never before, and downs like never before. Some days have been so hard I wanted to quit. I mean, really quit. Somebody give me a gun. Or a rope. Some days have been so full of joy and hope and laughter and blessings that I thought my heart would burst. I'll save some specifics for the end of the year review, sure to come around New Year's Eve, but this year has just been like no other in my life. And the hugeness of it all... oh, so much bigger than myself.... just hit as I stood looking at all those stockings. First I couldn't stop laughing, then I couldn't stop crying, and I'm just so completely overwhelmed with how blessed we are, the gifts we've been given, that we've survived, and not just survived, but are living in this messed up world with the joy, love, grace, and favor of our Savior.

...A Savior whose birth I'm so excited about celebrating this season! We've got some fun things coming soon.... I'm taking the big girls to see the Nutcracker Saturday. We're having a big "Happy Birthday" party for Jesus with a couple of other families we're great friends with. All my kids will be in a Christmas pageant (actually, 2) this year. And we'll be filling a stocking for Jesus as well! So... what are you doing for Jesus's birthday this year?

Two Thugs

Oh, yes, they were. Their car could not have been older. It was dented and hoopty looking. But, my! how the rims on that thing shined! They nearly blinded me as they wheeled towards my family car. Ok, so maybe my "car" is a 12 passenger, but hey, it's a love-hate relationship. Anyway, I new thugs were close before I ever saw them. My windows were rattling, and that low bass thump literally shook my body. My ear drums stung.

I was minding my own business, of course, waiting in a very long line of folks for a spot by a gas pump. Rarely an issue in this small town, but every lane had at least 2 cars. After Grandpa pulled his old truck away from the pump, I was next in line. I'd been behind him, waiting patiently and joyfully, because that's what Christians do. But just as I was shifting into gear, the thugs came whipping in from in front of Grandpa's truck and I'm sure my face said it all. Are you kidding me? I know they didn't just whip in there like they didn't see me waiting here in line! I was disgusted. 2 black men. Skin tight caps on their heads. Windows down, arms hung out the vibrating windows. How rude.

Then, the driver smiled. Huh? Yeah, that's right. He mouthed, "sorry", while buddy thelma waved me into my spot with his arm that was hung out the window, pointing his thumb towards the pump to the beat of his nasty music. His head tilted back in that "there ya go" kind of way.

A huge grin from me. Then a shameful blush. Lesson learned. I thought I wasn't judgmental. humph.

And on the way out of the parking lot we almost had a head on collision again. I waved big. 2 thugs. Nah, my 2 buddies, waved me ahead of them. Ladies first, you know.

He calls me "Mom"

Early in Feb. Charity came to live with us. By the end of February, her older brother joined our family as well. We fully intended to be their forever family. Our whole hearts in love with them instantly. Just the same way we instantly fell in love with Blessing. The ghost's time with us was fairly short, he left our home at the end of May. It was our decision for him to leave, a decision that tore our hearts to pieces, and left us broken like never before. I cried. For months. Still do, at times.

His visit with us this weekend brought a wide range of feelings, each feeling an overwhelming rush, and each bringing with it a cycle of thought that only goes around and around and never really ends. Were we right? Were we wrong? Could we have done something different? Yet knowing it's impossible to pray harder, or to love more than I did... and still do.

He still calls me "mom". Yet, I can't be that to him. Does he still wish for that? Do I still wish for that? It was also obvious, though we enjoyed our visit with him, that we cannot be his forever family. We simply can not meet his needs as well as the needs of the rest of our children. It sounds so cruel. Saying those words is oh so painful.

His time living and then leaving us has taught me more than any other circumstance in my whole life. He taught me what I could handle. Actually, that's not true, he taught me what God's empowerment can allow me to handle. He taught me what I can't handle, a lesson that was much harder to learn. He taught me love isn't enough. He taught me that though my plan seemed much more magnificent, that God and I don't think alike. He taught me that the deepest desire, belief, and faith in healing doesn't mean it will come. He taught me that God's grace is, indeed, sufficient. That God is absolutely He who gives.... and He who takes away. He taught me that I will choose to follow with my life and say, "And if not....".

And it's most ironic that he dressed as, and is referred to in this post as "the ghost". Because his memory is much like that... I remember him with love and joy. The bike ramps and boots and dirty jeans and swinging from rafters were all things foreign. For a time, tutus and skirts and twirling girls were not the only things in my home. There was a boy. A loud boy who made me laugh, those full belly laughs, as he ran through the house in his batman pajamas, a sheet as his cape. A boy whose socks were never clean, and who left a rank smell in the van and his room and everywhere else he visited. A smell he was proud of. He was rambunctious and full of life and his smile could make my heart skip a beat. Yes, I loved being a mother to a boy. And yet his memory also brings sadness, and a pain that is haunting, allowing guilt and questions and anger to rise again. And I throw up my feelings all over my God and again, grace is sufficient.

No Calling?

"Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it." –Talmud

It cracks me up when Christian people talk about not having a calling. Huh? I'm so confused. Do they read the same bible I do?

Changes

I usually go kicking and screaming. But in this case, my little blog space has been looking "ack!" for a long time. Change was needed. Some people think I am very creative because of my music. And I suppose that part of me is. But artsy? Not a bit. A friend once even forbid me to cut out any more of the Christmas ornaments our children were making for a charity. Really. That bad. That term about not being able to draw stick people really does apply to me, no exaggeration. And, I must also admit, that I'm not exactly happy about practicing or trying very hard if I already know I can't be really good at it.

So, I followed this friend's link to here, and it looked easy enough! Now maybe I'll be more inspired to take the time and add some things to my side bar. You know, in all my spare time! ;)

Good Friends

I'd love to write an extremely poetic, beautiful post about friendship. The kind that makes you smile, and cry, and laugh all at once, about all the blessings and carrying and loving and kindness that true friendships bring... the kind that leaves you warm and fuzzy. But, I'm still too tired for all that thinking and constructing sentences. The truth is, chickadee is just that kind of friend. One worthy of such a fuss. But what actually made me suddenly consider the evolution of our friendship (we've only known each other for about 3 years) was something she said about a week ago. And I'm laughing at the thought of her opening my post to find her own picture and a post about her! I'd have a fit if it was me she broadcasted on her blog. But that's the whole point of the post.....we are officially at a point in our friendship that I can do it and she'll still love me whether she likes it or not. I think. **evilish grin**

I was having a terrible day. Really. It was the day after (or 2? I can't remember) being up all night with a violently throwing up baby. Ok, so she's 4. But I can call her baby if I want. Just try and stop me. Might I remind you I am a martial artist. Anyway, the house was a wreck. Complete with dishes still out on the bar, blankets and toys and colors strewn through the living room. I had fully intended to attend our home school group's meeting that afternoon, but by 11 when one kid had peed in about 5 pair of panties and another was relentless in her barking/yelling orders at everyone I changed my mind. Keep in mind, outings seem to shift my RADling into high gear with the indiscriminate affection and charming that everyone else seems to love but drives me crazy. Yes, I like run-on sentences. It's my blog, thank you. Take into account that I had already dressed everyone, fixed their hair and put shoes on them only for them to look like orphans and needing to do it all over again before we left, and well, I just figured it would be easier to stay at home. My friend called, and pushed me to go. I finally outed (with a whine I'm sure equal to the kind I've been complaining about from my kids) to her that, "I've got one that can't pee on the potty, and one that won't stop screaming!" Without so much as a second to contemplate, my friend laughed at me. She lovingly (kind of) said, "Well, I can fix that, I'll bring a diaper and some tape!"

Despite her ability to fix all my problems, I still insisted on staying on my couch. So, she came and picked up my older two girls and toted them all around town to their art lessons and the group meeting, and even stopped and got them some ice cream. While I and the little ones napped. Isn't that sweet? But she ruined it when she came in my house and didn't just ignore the mess. "Good grief." She said. "The kids need to play orphan at your house like they do at mine, and clean this place up." And that sealed it for me. Because you see, it wasn't really a slam (right?) .... no one but a true friend is that brave. Only true friends can say that kind of thing to each other. Or maybe it's just cause she's pregnant.

Not Shawn Johnson

But not bad for 30. Faith took my picture while I was showing the little ones their momma is sick!

And for all of you over 30's, "sick" is the new cool.

"Cool" is not.






I'm so glad I still have toddlers that being able to turn back flips on the trampoline impresses. Apparently it was good that it was school hours for Faith and Hope's friends, and I was not seen making a fool of myself. Humph.

The actual review

I said some time ago that I would write a true review of Grace Based Parenting by Dr. Tim Kimmel, rather than just the small blurb I had stated earlier. I have long since left the days of writing reviews, and my current lack of short-term memory kinda makes things like that hard. Yes, I read it. Yes, I liked it. What was it that it said, again?

Ok, so it really isn't quite that bad, but close. I finished the book several weeks ago. And, well, I've slept since then. But this is how I remember it. Keep in mind that where you lean in your already existing style of parenting might determine whether or not this book is for you. I may have been (notice the reluctance to out right admit my short comings) slightly leaning towards raising a legalistic family.

If you know our family, or the church we attend, that may come as a surprise. Yes, it surprised me, too. It's funny how quickly something like legalism can sneak up on you. One minute you're enjoying the grace God so freely gave, the next there's this imaginary checklist that's driven by guilt and a need to do penance and somehow reimburse God. As if that could happen. It's not that good deeds and love can't come from legalistic people, but it's kind of for the wrong reasons. It's the difference in appreciation for our own forgiveness and grace we received from Christ stirring us to love and good deeds, or the need to pay Him back.

There was a time in my life I extremely disliked books that didn't have much in them actually applicable to life. I guess I was lazy. Just give me that checklist already so I can get on with it. If you are looking for a book that spells out some kind of discipline method or manner of handling your kids, this isn't the one you want. But I really enjoyed it, and though I don't agree with every single word, it certainly challenged me to solidify exactly how I want to raise my kids and why. And to dig in the Word for my own answers. It is not full of impossible standards (which I often seem to find in parenting books), and largely deals with our own attitude towards our kids, and caused me to really examine how I view God, grace, and in turn pass it on to my children. I do think it helped me take another step towards providing an atmosphere in our home where our kids can grow morally strong, fearing God a lot, and fearing their fellow man very little. And fear is definitely something I've dealt with off and on.

I was hoping to find a picture on the net of what Kimmel calls a matrix for grace-based parenting. I can't, but it's basically a graph that weaves these "needs" every child has:

1. Secure love
2. Significant purpose
3. A strong hope
4. The freedom to be different
5. The freedom to be vulnerable
6. The freedom to be candid
7. And the freedom to make mistakes


So there you have it. Another checklist for me to post.

And then I play

The piano, that is. It's just what I do. I've been playing since I was a first grader. I'm not sure if there is some level of playing that you get to that automatically qualifies you as a musician, or if it's just how the music takes over that brands you with that title. I don't know when I became a musician, but I can remember that as early as 3rd grade, or maybe it was 4th, playing became a way of expression. Something I'm not sure I could have lived without. I remember that distinct time because my uncle had died. One with 3 small children. As his casket was being lowered, I'll never forget as one of his daughters began to cry and yell for them not to do that to her daddy. She didn't understand. In her little mind, being put into the ground beneath her meant her daddy wasn't going to heaven, but into a place she feared greatly.

That evening, I got lost in my music. Maybe that wasn't really the first time. And maybe it was a process that had begun much earlier. But it's the first time I distinctly remember my own music being the source of comfort; and somehow the music was no longer something I played, but something that played me. It took over. Poured into me and out of me from the depths of my soul.

Since then, I've spent countless hours with my fingers playing across ivory and black keys. I play other instruments, as well. Even as I was carrying my biological children their ears heard endless playing. With my first, I was still serving in a military band as a french horn player, and her ears were exposed to hours upon hours or rehearsals and concerts before she was even born. Each biological child does seem to have their favorites, as far as pieces or composers, but for the most part they don't pay much attention to my playing. It's just as much a part of life as my washing the dishes. Just another thing moms do.

My born of the heart children were not exposed to such, though, and upon their arrival to our home they had no idea what their ears would have to endure. Although I'd like to think that's not how they view it. And I'm pretty sure it's not. Even children just visiting my home I often catch standing and staring and listening as I play. I'm not trying to say that when I play, my magical music captures any listening ears. I'd like to think I'm that good, but the truth is music just has that ability. But for them, my playing is not something to be ignored. Little hands and feet that usually can't sit still long, suddenly sit completely still for an extended period of time. Especially if I put them in my lap and play something like this (hang in there past the first part, my favorite is in the middle after the change of tempo). Blessing has been with us for over a year now, and it hasn't worn off, yet. She likes it when one hand crosses over the other. When she "plays", that's how she does it.

And so it is with my life. Anger? And then I play. Joy? And then I play. Frustration? And then I play. Deep grief? And then I play. Fear? And then I play. Intimacy with my creator? And then I play. It's just what I do.

So, what do you do?

A lot of nothing

Last night I spent a couple of hours with 3 friends, 1 of which I am just now getting to know. I casually mentioned something about how I had left my home as TJ came in, and our conversation exchange as I left. The chaos of our life, and the topics that have become day to day lingo has become so normal to me, that I sometimes forget how abnormal it really is. Court dates, visits, counselors, psychiatrist, case workers, outbursts, emotional breaks and the list goes on and on. We have rejoiced over hurting a child's feelings. Because with 3 of the children who have been in our home, we weren't sure that was possible. It's not that we want to hurt them, but realizing they actually have the capacity to feel on that level did not come right away with any of them. Yes, they become frustrated when they do not get their way, but that is very different than a feeling of remorse, or hurt because they do, indeed, want to please us. Or do, indeed, understand their behavior was wrong and they want to change it.

Anyway, at the mention of my passing directions to my husband, this new friend had a mixture of laughing/confusion sort of reaction and I realized I needed to make some explanations. I could see her trying to figure out just exactly how many kids I had at my home!

Yesterday was a very long day of work for my husband. He left at 7:15, worked through his lunch, and only came home at 6:45 because he knew I had plans. My friend was already in our driveway as he pulled in from work, and so we had a very quick exchange while standing under the carport. It was this conversation that I casually mentioned that caused my new friend a round of laughter. Had I known my life could bring such response, I would have shared it earlier! ;) So, just in case your sense of humor is anything like hers (or mine), here's how the conversation went:

Before he had even opened his door, I had already started in on his directions. "Blessing can not get out of time-out for another 4 minutes, then it's bath and bed for her. Charity can have 1 cookie IF she eats those peas and carrots on her plate. 1 cookie ONLY, and ONLY if all the green and orange stuff is gone. Grace already had her cookie and she can get out of time-out when the oven timer goes off. Oh, yeah, if Charity gets down from the bar before finishing the green stuff the cookie deal is null and void. I told Faith and Hope they could sleep in the loft if they folded the clothes on my bed. Don't forget Grace's claritin, and Charity's cream, and they're all really tired from swimming and no nap today." Still trying to get in every ounce of info he needed to hear even as I climbed into my friend's van and he was walking away, I was still calling after him, "Oh, and we haven't gotten that packet from the Development Center for Children, I think you need to go back to the doctor's office and see why.

I'm not sure why I feel the need to say all of that. You can safely assume all the children ate the rest of the cookies, no one lingered in time-out any longer than it took me to get out of the drive-way, and I doubt anyone had a bath. The doctor's office was already closed.

Let me put in a plug for my hubby here..... Again, not bashing him. He really and truly is an amazing man whose grace runs deep and the love for his children is very obvious. The stress of no job is currently weighing heavy on him. He takes providing for his family very serious, and trying to balance that kind of work ethic and responsibility with dependence on God and His timing is not always an easy thing. He is very helpful around our home, and with our kids, and I don't want to paint any different picture of him by stating what I'm sure to be true of last night. ;)

After some explanation, my new friend wittingly suggested that we should just pin a timer on each kid every day. That way, when it's time-out, I just push on their timer, and there's no confusion about who has to sit for how much longer. Now there's an idea!

Ridiculous

It's a word I use to describe a lot of different things. The noise level in my house right at this moment: ridiculous. The expectation for those shorts you wore yesterday to be clean today: ridiculous. Our bank account: ridiculous. The current predicament we're in (no job, last pay check drawn): ridiculous. And best of all, my entire day yesterday: ridiculous.

Let's start with my attitude. The ability to completely trust in God's timing in fizzling fast. My once, "it will all work out" mindset is quickly beginning to focus on how long it's been since we've had any real direction. Frustration and stress and irritability is kind of winning over my normally laid back attitude. I understand attitude is a choice. And it's something I believe pretty whole heartedly. But for whatever reason, whether it is really under my control or not, I'm having trouble changing it. Overwhelmed is not a fun state to be in day after day.

Yesterday was NOT good. My blessing couldn't seem to pee in the potty not one time. Not to mention her uncontrollable obsession with pouring out bottles of soap and shampoo. My Charity seemed to think acting like she did on Day 1 of her arrival would be better than all the progress she seemed to have made lately. Grace was extra whiny and insistent that her doctor needs to take off her "ganglion cyst". And yes, she calls it by it's actual medical name. It was cute, the first thousand times. Faith and Hope seemed to think treating each other like, well, like children would treat each other, was suitable. And if you didn't catch it in the last sentence, hind sight allows me to see the problem was with my expectations. They were only doing what children do. But my reaction? RIDICULOUS.

I lost it. By "it", I mean everything. My temper. My sanity. Any semblance of filtering what I say FIRST. I even lost my soft voice. Decibel 5 seemed to be the only level I could say anything. Couple that with glaring eyes. I had to apologize to ALL my children. And quit entertaining any thoughts of being Mother-of-the-year. Sheesh. Just when I thought I had it all together. (better read that sarcastic. That's how I meant it)

My husband came in for lunch about the time I exploded. He looked at me like I was growing horns or something. I busted out crying, throwing up all my feelings of worthlessness and failure all over him. He continued to look at me like I'd just fallen from outer space. Then, in his all understanding, gentle, loving manner, he said, "Gotta go back to work". And left. You're jealous, aren't you? You know you want him for your husband.

This isn't meant to bash him. But that's what happens when we expect our husbands to fill a void that they can't fill. It's unfair to expect them to. From there, what did we do? We dug in the change bucket for a dollar and 10 cents per person. Then went to the dollar store. Yes, I bought forgiveness. Maybe. Does it cost more than a dollar? What is the going rate these days?

Then my children, who I fully expected, and even wanted to spend on things completely cheap and fun and RIDICULOUS....no, every last one of them chose practical things. We came home with some headbands, chapstick, a hat. A different day I'd be proud. But at the moment even that seemed like a testimony of my horrible parenting. Guess I'll go eat worms. Long, thin slimy ones.

Thank the Lord today is a new day and His mercies are new each morning. Gratefulness reigns again.


I wonder how long before I screw it up.

Proverbs 22:6

I'm currently reading Dr. Tim Kimmel's Grace Based Parenting. I'll try to write a little more specific and in depth review later for any of you who might (or might not) be interested. But for now this particular break down of a well-known Bible verse has been on my mind often. Parenting 5 children (7 - if you count that way.....and God-willing more to come) is something I consider a privilege, a blessing, a joy, but also something I take extremely seriously. These kids are gifts, but not really even mine. They are mine only to shepherd. Not control. My responsibility. One I do not wish to be lazy about. No, I desire to be purposeful and intentional when it comes to their lives and the guiding of their little spirits.

Ok, so I'm already steering away from the point. I'm good at that, aren't I? A little Attention Deficit. Likely. Anyway, back to the verse. It's the "Train up a child" verse. One familiar to many. But I'd never heard (or studied for myself) the Hebrew words used here. Turns out some translations actually say, "train him up his way." Dr. Kimmel points out that this particular translation is more accurate and lends a more literal meaning. If you are like me, I was still slightly confused, but he goes on to further define the actual Hebrew word used: dereck. This same word is translated in Ps. 11 refering to the bend of a bow.

Kimmel goes on to explain that making a bow out of a tree limb requires first studying the limb to figure out its natural "bent". If you were to string the bow without first doing so, when pulled...it would snap due to the string against its natural bent rather than with it. Any light bulbs going off for you? They certainly did for me.

I'll leave you with a little from his book that brought new light, direction, perspective and purpose in how I handle my children's weaknesses (hopefully a little more gracefully).

This means coming alongside them with a plan to help leverage their natural and unique gifts and skills into highly developed assets that they can lean on in the future.

We should study them [our children] enough to know which natural bents they have that push them in the wrong direction. They might struggle with an inordinate amount of fear, shyness, stubbornness, argumentativeness, dependence, independence, sexual drive, or need to take dangerous risks. We can't make these liabilities disappear, but we are to raise them in such a way that we account for them and give them tools to help process them properly.

I can't find the actual part where he said it, now, but he goes on to say that God created us (and our children) with great gifts AND weaknesses that require them to lean heavily on Him for power and help. I realize much has to do with where you are in your own spiritual walk, but for me, that statement alone was freeing and relieved some guilt I've harbored from when I've fallen so short. How fantastic to know that God not only loves us despite our weaknesses, but he actually created us with them. And how much easier it is for me, now, to extend that grace He gave to me on to my children.

Hodgepodge

My computer has a mind of it's own. Some days it comes on. Some days it does not. Some days it will stay on, some days it goes off right in the middle of something unsaved. Annoying. To say the least. So, when you do not hear from me, pray for my computer! ;)

There are tons of things going on right now. A move for our family is likely. Our family dynamics are ever-changing...I guess that comes with the territory of being a foster family. Vacation is just a few days away...and I can't wait!!!! So, our home is abuzz with packing (moving packing, and vacation packing), painting/getting the house ready to sell. Ok, it seems like a lot more than that. Why is it when written down it doesn't seem like something I should be so stressed about?

So, there you have it. Much ado about nothing. These are a couple of pics of our 3 youngest.

The fish (Blessing):

This kid is really swimming. Really. Swimming. Am I the only one amazed by this?

Here are the 2 that refuse to get their faces wet. They are slightly bothered by the fact the one smaller and younger sibling is getting so much clapping and yelling and excitement from the adults. But not enough to do anything about it.

Apparently.....

.....I don't have time to blog. I'm still here. Life is still good. And I have thousands of great post ideas floating in my head, with no time to make them happen.

By the way, "great post ideas" might be stretching it just a little. For example, our schnauzer looked so darn cute the other day, laying perfectly in Little Boy Blue's pink boppy. He looked as if he had studied Little Boy Blue very hard, exactly how he laid in it, and almost looked like a baby himself. I quick got the camera. A not-so-great digital one that is rather uncooperative. By the time it actually took the picture, the image was only of Toby's behind as he jumped down. Lovely. Not what I had planned.

In fact the last week and a half has been full of not-what-I-planned. DHS has had me hopping with appointments, court, and visits. A few of which they did not give me much notice for. Plus, well, I planned on clean, well behaved children, a clean house, homemade bread, and lots of playing games, relaxing with kids. You KNOW how much of that actually happened.

I still have every intention of getting back into the habit of posting. And letting my new bloggie friends know that I am thoroughly enjoying their comments, and their blogs (via actually commenting over there!).

Maybe I'll start tomorrow.

No promises.

Guest Blogging

This week a friend asked me to post on her blog while she is away on an Alaskan cruise. I'm having so much fun, because she actually has a pretty broad audience....as opposed to my 3 readers! ;)

In case I don't get around to blogging in both spots, come on over and read here.

Time?

Does anyone have some to spare?

Sorry to leave you hanging, and I really do have a lot on my mind that I would love to just sit down and type out, but SHEESH! After we returned from our FABULOUS weekend, the "big red bus" (which has so affectionately become the term for our family vehicle) was unloaded...... causing a major assortment of dirty and clean laundry, bags, swim suits, and more to be generously strewn through the living room. Add to the equation that 6 children need detox or a rehab program after a weekend of being indulged by friends and family (don't misunderstand....that indulgence is exactly what I expect and even think the kids need), and you get too much work and not enough time! ;)

The weekend was restful, encouraging, refreshing....and much more. Though I don't think there was any "new" idea for the two of us, it still reminded us of our line of priorities, and we got to spend the weekend concentrating on each other. Having a strong marriage is the greatest gift we can give our children, but with 4 children 4 and under (plus 2 others) sheer volume often pushes my husband's needs much farther back than they should be. I'll do my best to elaborate more on some of the ideas and thoughts that TJ and I came home with. Most importantly, we just thoroughly enjoyed being together, adult conversation, and full nights of rest and even a few naps in between! It is hard, though, to return to "normal" circumstances, and make the shift from ideas to actual practice in our life. I've already found myself standing amid all the chores, the quarreling toddlers, the crying baby, the phone ringing, the chicken burning....and all the open communication in the world just doesn't release the same stress as a few screams and a little profanity. I also kind of like how the kids scatter when that happens. I hold much power.

Ok, so there was no profanity, this time. But you get my point. And this weekend did serve as a reminder of the power I do hold.... to destroy, or to build. To mold, or crush. To respect, or undermine. And while I may be speaking of my attitude towards my husband, there is an extremely tight link from that to the legacy I'm leaving for my children. How they view their own identity and value based on how I view/treat my husband.

Meanwhile, we're trying to plan some fantastic fun for the summer that cost little to nothing. I'm ready to enjoy the summer with my kids!

AWOL

Our church family is sending my husband and I on a retreat this weekend. I can't remember the last time he and I went somewhere just the two of us...even for an hour, much less an entire weekend! They chose to give it to us during a church service, in which I began to cry. Not the graceful few tears and quiet sniffs that beautiful women sometimes show when overcome with emotion...no, pretty much it was the uncontrollable heaving and sobbing. Snot and tears and too few tissues. My name is certainly NOT Grace.

Much has happened over the last few months. I have been broken like never before. But the sobs did not come from that brokenness. It came from an overwhelming feeling of being picked back up and dusted off after a fall. Of others pulling us back up again and pouring out into us. The joy of a God who fills us back up after we've emptied ourselves before Him. It's humbling, as well. Part of me wants to push away and insist like a silly child that I can do it myself. Or better yet, just jump back up and hope that no one saw my face in the dirt.

I'm still slightly nervous about the logistics of leaving 6 children for 3 days, but the excitement of it all certainly overrides any concern. I am so thankful to all who made this possible...and a I'll be sure to share all about it when we return. Now, if I can somehow get everyone's bags packed, and the house in a state that I don't mind returning to.......