Real Sportsmanship

Tonight I had been putting off playing catch with Lincoln. Had to make dinner. Had to chat with a friend. Had to clean up dinner...blah, blah, blah. So, I finally got that urgent feeling of inadequacy. That feeling you get when your kid is old enough to remember how you blew him or her off. When you realize they aren't two and incapable of remembering what they had for breakfast. I guess guilt and pride can be good motivators.

That, and I heard him throwing the baseball on the roof. Which was annoying.

So, I headed out to play catch. Something I think I've done maybe three or four times my whole life. He kept giving me  pointers. Which was annoying.

We had been playing for about 15 minutes. Him grinning ear to ear. Me having to run after the ball. Which was annoying. 

When...I heard a little kid saying, "Eh? Eh?"

That's Amharic for, "Hey, I know I'm too little and wimpy to play. But I really think I'd be an asset to your team."

Reagan had been standing there watching us play. Managed to put on Lincoln's batting glove...and stood patiently waiting to be included.

    



 

   

And, yes. I've pretty much given up on braids this past month. This is what her hair has looked like a lot lately. I try to fluff it up when we go out...but a majority of the time she has bed-head fro.

Don't judge me.

I'll get it right someday.

So, Lincoln and I included her in a little triangle of catch. 'Course she was no good at it. She was happily oblivious. Now, SHE was grinning ear to ear. And, if it seemed like Lincoln or I weren't throwing the ball to her often enough...she would emphatically pat her belly and say, "Eh! Eh!" Din-Din! Mah-Maaaah!"

So we played. And...it wasn't very annoying.

It was more...cute.

Precious.

Nice.

While we were outside...some other kid had a bathroom emergency and I had to go be the maid.

When I came out awhile later...they were still playing.

I know it's just catch. 

And, I know that families should love each other. So, I'm not sure I can put into words how good this makes me feel.

My son loves his sister. He loves her a lot. He includes her. She wants to be included. 

We are family. 

Sometimes that hits me randomly and hard. It's mind boggling.

 I get so caught up in the mechanics of having kids. The failures. The getting from point a., to point b. The feelings of inadequacy. Just being plain dog tired and sometimes depressed. Racking my brain on how to work better as a family. To have a home that isn't so chaotic. I start looking for validation ANYWHERE but home. When you are a stay at home mom...yeah sure, you know your job is important. But it's also just A dimension of who you are. I think being a mother will be one of the biggest investments and pouring out of self I will ever take part in. Still...still...it's not ALL of me. It's hard. And, it can seem WAY too big of a job.

 Yet, sometimes, if I would just get up...

Move. 

Play. 

Watch. 

Be humbled.

It would be so much more fun.

My tank was filled to the brim by my children tonight. It cost nothing. It was free. 

Waiting for me. 

I almost missed it...

It's hard for me to imagine...

But there are things in my life that are better than medication (I think). 

Better than organization (again--perhaps). 

Better than chocolate (just slightly).

Better than a nap (usually).

Better than calm.

Those things are...little glimpses of love in its most naked form. 

Oh sure. 

I see PLENTY of ugly, selfish, angry, tattley, lazy..."normal," behaviors, too. Sometimes by looking in the mirror. Sometimes acted out by little people.

But on days like today...they are a drop in the bucket.

Hello February!

I keep meaning to write. 

My goal for this year was to post twice a week.

Eh.

Life happens.

We started last Saturday out like this:

Sort of.

I'm still not sure exactly what's going on with our dear old van. But it might be a head gasket. Hopefully we find out on Monday. We were on our way home from a basketball game...

*chunk* *chunk* **chunk*
*sputter* *sputter* *sputter* *sputter*

We broke down just as we pulled into a gas station on post. Another mommy friend of mine came and loaded us up into her minivan and brought us home.

After our van broke down, we spent Sunday getting it to a shop. My superhero neighbors watched the kids and helped me drive it to the mechanic.

All the kids have been fighting off colds. And, we've had some crazy rain:

 

By Wednesday, it was Jack's 8th birthday. While I knew we weren't going to have his party that day, I wanted to do something special for him. First I thought we'd go to a movie, but there were no kids movies showing. So, then we settled for pizza and grabbing ice cream on the way home.

(We're borrowing superhero neighbor's truck.)
He got a call from my little brothers on the way.
That made him happy.

 In fact. As you can see...everyone seems pretty happy.

And, not sick.

So. We got ate at Fox's Pizza (Love their pizza! Plus, I can feed all the kids with their, "Big Daddy" cheese pizza, for 15 bucks.), stopped by Walmart for some ice cream. And, after one gum stealing incident, two lectures for karate chopping displays, and one, "Yes, they're all mine" conversation, we were on our way!

By the time we got home, every. single. child. was asleep. But I roused them with promises of ice cream and sprinkles...and we ventured forth.

By the time we had our coats off, Jack was moaning:

  

He had a fever and chills, and went to bed early. Poor birthday boy.

The rest of the kids finished their ice cream.


Apparently the sugar jacked Grant up so much...he forgot to watch out for walls:

He got the second largest goose-egg I've ever seen, after running into the corner of a wall. (Lincoln gets the #1 prize. He got one even bigger when Jason opened a door into his head the night Kennedy was born. Crazy day.) Don't worry. We put ice on it. His face doesn't look like that anymore.

After that we settled down to watch a movie. Reagan spiked a fever and fell asleep on the couch:

I love that she's trying to shove her hands down her pants.

(Yes. We live in a very beige/tan world. Tan walls, tan carpet, tan couch. Believe me. It's not planned. I'm just too poor and lazy to buy a new couch or paint.)

When she woke up, Lincoln picked her up and she cuddled with him on the couch. I wasn't trying to be a bad mom and ignore her. But I was helping Jack in the other room. I'm so thankful for Lincoln. He's been an awesome help this week.

A few hours later she was calling for me in her bed. I picked her up just in time to be puked on. I didn't take a picture.  She was AMAZED at the whole throwing-up process. Too giddy with discovery to be too miserable. It was SO funny.

Reagan's still running a fever. Kennedy's been coughing nonstop since Thursday. I've only slept a few hours  during the past four nights.

So this week has been pretty craptastic.
Sick kids, messy house, broken down car.
Kind of typical life stuff. We all have weeks like this...

In all this, God has really been showing me how much my material possessions are not mine. My money. My van. My house. How... He has given me all these things. Every single time we are in want of something...He supplies it. Always.  Sending angels in disguise. Neighbors. Friends. Strangers. And, yet...I still stress about money. I still worry about what other people think when there's a lack of it. I still want to hold onto it. Here He is, over and over again; supplying for our needs and wants supernaturally.

It's humbling.

He's telling me to trust Him. He asking me to have faith.

Even in the area of our finances.

And, I think it's about time I listened.

Phone calls...

I hate waiting for phone calls.

This is part of, "the military life" that blows.

It's (obviously) totally not his fault. 

Sometimes he gets called out on missions. Sometimes it's his favorite thing, meetings. Sometimes he's too busy to even shower. Sometimes the phone lines aren't going through. Sometimes it's just hard to work out the timing...because Afghanistan is like opposite world.

It still sucks. 

Even though the (teeny-weeny) logic side of my brain says everything is fine.

I always worry.

I worry that something bad happened to keep him from calling.

I suppose it must be a little what parents go through when their kids don't call after curfew.

Only...he's an adult. And, I should know better.

So, I keep coming back to these verses that have gotten me through the past few months. They have literally revolutionized my life. In every nook and cranny.

While sitting in the preschool room at homeschool co-op, I met a lady who has become a sweet friend. She's a military brat, traveled the world and then some, married to an army dude, and has been through three deployments. She called to check on us the day after Jason deployed. She didn't know he had just left. God orchestrated that part, and that's just how she is.  Always in the right place at the right time. During our conversation, she lathered ointment on my wounds. She didn't tell me trite little cliches like, "Just give it time." Or "He'll be back before you know it." She gave me *gasp* verses. From the bible.

Jeremiah 17:9

"The heart is more deceitful than all else, and is desperately sick; Who can understand it?

In a society whose constant mantra is, "Follow your heart." This seems totally unnatural. However, if our hearts really are deceitful and sick; it doesn't make sense to follow them. As a Christ follower, I'm called to rely on His word...and to follow the prompting of the Holy Spirit. That's not always the same things as my heart.

Examples of this?

• The week before I married the person who I now so wholly miss; I was sure that my heart was telling me to run.  It wasn't just nerves. It was the guilt of an unplanned pregnancy. The embarrassment. The heartache over letting others down. Resentment at my soon to be husband and myself.  The anger that my mistake would be public. It all added up to being repulsed...about everything in our relationship. So, on one hand my heart was telling me, "You don't know him. This is scary. This is a sign! This feels bad. RUN!!!"  And, on the other hand...deep down inside me, I knew that I needed to marry him. I knew that it was right. I knew that I loved him; even though it had changed from a silly school-girl feeling...to something much, much more serious. Like the kind of love that walks next to someone through difficult times. It might not be sexy (at the the time). But, it's real. I remembered that the first time I met him, I had thought in my 18-year-old brain, "I'm going to marry him." What my heart, nerves, and body felt, and what my spirit knew...were two completely different things. If I had, "followed my heart." I believe I would have made one of the biggest mistakes of my life. I feel like God has blessed me over and over and over again for trusting Him with that decision. I married my best friend. He is loyal, loving, and challenging to me. He is perfect for me. I love him.

• Soon after I talked on the phone to this friend...God started breaking my heart in another area of my life. With Ray. Some days, my heart tells me, "She will never love you. You will never love her enough . Some broken things can never be repaired." My heart screams in fear. My heart shuts down. My heart lies. God's word boldly proclaims that we have all been adopted. That without love we are CLANGING SYMBOLS.  That true religion is more than attending church. It's more than loving your kin. It's more than volunteering at a soup kitchen. That it's taking care of the orphans and widows. Now, this may present itself differently to every child of God. I know that all aren't called to adopt. But I was. And...I would be foolish to assume that raising this child will be accomplished in my own desperately sick strength. I have been given SO much peace through this verse in the area of raising our daughter. It's given me the clarity of mind to go back to the foundation. To remember that God called me to this before I lost all my teeth. Before I found my husband. Before we had any children. And, now realizing that it wasn't because I was special. It wasn't because I had a greater capability to love than anyone else. But...that He was just preparing me to be used by Him.

• The last way this verse has calmed my fears is...with my husband. Even though his job is really very, "safe." Even though God has been preparing our hearts for this stage in our lives...for years. Even though he is good at what he does, excels in these types of situations...even though.  My heart STILL tells me some days, "He will be broken when he comes home." Or, "He's not coming back." I think it'd be pretty safe to say I'm not the only military wife who has had those thoughts. It just comes with the territory. I think as time goes on, you get better at not wasting energy on mindless worry. At least, that's the way it seems when I psycho-analyze these (insane) women who have been at this for years and years. They still manage to get dressed in the morning. They even have smiles on their faces. I know they have been through the fire. And...somehow they just get more and more filled with grace. They seem to have a peace that is totally OUT of this world.  For me; those thoughts DO pop into my head. And, when my heart is scared. When it's saying hopeless things, and is filling up with hurtful feelings. THAT'S when I tell myself. "Self. Your heart is DECEITFUL... more than anything else. IT'S sick. You can take those thoughts and SHOVE 'em!"

Then I can move onto renewing my mind. (wha...?) To taking every thought captive. 

2 Corinthians 10:5

"We are destroying speculations and every lofty thing raised up against the knowledge of God, and we are taking every thought captive to the obedience of Christ."

To be continued...

School

Last night we sat out clothes, gave lots of baths, filled out paperwork, prayed, and all had nervous butterflies in our bellies as we fell asleep.

This morning I got up at six, made breakfast, woke up the three oldest, talked over breakfast, gathered up the little ones...and we headed out the door.

 Bright eyed and bushy tailed...

Then we walked into school.

It shouldn't be so ridiculously hard for me.

But it is.

On one hand...I feel like I just won the lottery. "You mean, you will watch them, teach them...and keep them from killing themselves for me?"

On the other hand...I like my kids. I (really) want an hour or two a day to hear myself think. But seven and a half hours seems extreme. (This is coming from someone who never went to public school. It's my perspective.)

Lincoln met his teacher (I love her!), and although he seemed shy and reserved...he was definitely okay. His buddy from church is in his class. I think God totally set that up.

Kennedy was excited until we walked into the room full of kids and then her face said, "Crap. What have I gotten myself into?" She was shy, but she didn't cry. Her teacher goes to church with us.

Jack. Well...Jack is Jack. He met his pretty blonde teacher, and I'm almost certain he fell in love on the spot. His mouth gaped open, and all he could do when she spoke to him, was nod his head and giggle. He walked away and didn't even look back. I would have felt bad...but it was too funny.

As I walked back down the hall to peek in on Kennedy, I felt like grabbing her and making a mad run for it. But that's silly. No one's making me do this... And, she was happily setting up her paper, crayons and pencils anyway.

I'm still not so sure about Kindergarten. I'm not sure that Kennedy will stay. To me it seems like the only reason for all day Kindergarten is day care.  It's such a long day for little ones. She was really determined to go to school with the boys. But, my heart is hurting. Five seems too young to be away from your mom all day. It just does.

So we will take Kindergarten day by day.

All that said; despite the worry, and guilt. I feel like we are approaching sanity as a family. People seek counseling for trauma and pain. Anti-depressants for hurt minds and hearts. Since they weren't offering maid service and childcare...my logic is that it is okay for me to use the school system to restore some sanity into our lives.

EVEN though my reasons have absolutely nothing to do with my children's education. I wasn't worried about them as far as their education went. I love they way they think. I love how inquisitive, logical, intelligent and unique they all are. Jack is pretty behind on reading. And, I'm extremely thankful to have help in that area. I've always struggled with teaching him things that he finds uninteresting. I haven't done well at making it fun. And, haven't been willing to force him. But even with his reading difficulty; I'm not sending him to be fixed. I'm thankful for structure in their lives. ALL of their teachers seem above and beyond the cut. They were kind and sincere. There was no condemnation or judgment. I'm sure the kids will come away with some new information, and new tools. Probably a few cuss words, too.

The main reason I'm trying this out...is we aren't functioning well as a family. It's totally me taking advantage of the system for reasons I've always thought were horrible in other people. (Yes! I'm calling myself out!) I've always hated it when people say to me, "You know I'd really like to homeschool. But, I couldn't stand being around my kids for that long."  I know God designed us all differently. And, public, private, and homeschooled kids all turn out equally well adjusted and screwed up!  It just bothered me to think that being around your own kids could be so traumatic. So...I'd like to order a plate of crow, please.  As much as I've prayed through this, and willed myself to be better at time management, to be patient with taking the five of them everywhere I go...and to be with them twenty-four hours a day. The house is a wreck. I'm grumpy and mean. I get distracted in the details of running the house, lost in all the directions our homeschool day takes us, and feel like I have two babies that need a lot more face time with me.

You wanna know what's funny? Last night as I was falling asleep;  jumping from one extreme to the other. So thankful that I will have a lighter load. So guilty and panicked that my children are going to lose their innocence and be lost in a system that is set up for groups; not individuals. ALL I could think about for hours was...next school year. How I'm going to change my approach. How I think I'm DONE, done, DONE with trying to find the perfect curriculum. How I am going to piece together my own. How it will be first set up around how I learn and teach best...and I will tweak it to meet the children's needs after that. We are going to approach it in a much simpler way. We are going to go deeper in fewer topics. And, we are going to have yearly goals...so that when I don't check every little box--I don't feel like a complete failure for not following someone else's plan. I'm going to have a better understanding of the capabilities, strengths and interests of my kids. I'm excited. I've learned SO much about how I can and cannot function during the last few months. But that's then. This is now.

Two more things:

1.  I think a good example of what it feels like to be a homeschool mom is to compare your job to a vocal performer.  If someone criticizes a piece you sing; they are criticizing you. It IS you. You aren't playing an instrument. You are the instrument. Well, as a homeschool mom. When things aren't going well, if your kids aren't little geniuses, if your house isn't clean, if you're not fluent in Latin...there's no one to blame. No one but yourself. So, that can be a hard place to be.

Something God's been showing me though, is HE'S not condemning me. And, as long as I obey as we walk along...I can't ruin everything! If this doesn't work out. Fine. We'll try something different. If He calls me to stick to something...I'll stick.

2. I was talking to my younger brother on the phone last week and he said, "Sarah, even Jesus sought solitude. He went away to pray. He went away to be alone. It's okay to desire that..." I miss having time to seek out God. Time to listen to music without stopping a fight. Time to write, work out, or read.  And...that's okay?

???

So this is all random. And...might not make sense. But that's where we're at.

"The homeschool family who goes to public school."

Today I've done some things that I haven't done for months and months:

Sat and read board books to Grant and Reagan.

Played, "baby" music for Grant and Reagan.

Danced to Veggie Tales songs with Grant.

Did a workout video.

Read the bible in silence.

Got up before eight

Finished my morning chores, 

fed the babies lunch and had them down for their naps before noon.

Right now...I'm thankful for some space to breath.

And, I can't wait for them to get home!

No, that's not the time. 

That's the timer I set to count down the hours until I pick my kids up. 

Does that make me a nerd?

I don't care.

White Flag pt. 4

So, life is overwhelming.

Being home with the kids. All day. Every day.

You know it's not just you. Life is messy. You know there are people who deal with more. Some live it with grace. Some survive by their teeth and their nails. They are on third and fourth deployments.  They are parenting multiple children with RAD. They are losing their jobs. They are unloved by their spouses. They have swallowed so many seeds of bitterness, that a whole oak tree of anger and resentment has grown and taken over their soul. They are dealing with infidelity. They are tired to the inside of the inside of the inside of their bones. They have lost children. They see themselves through twisted, broken, dirty mirrors. Death. Divorce. Illness. Depression. Addictions. Self-loathing. Grief. There's always more life can throw at you.  

Pain is pain is pain is pain.

You think maybe you should send the three older kids to the local school. That would mean losing the title of, "Homeschool Mom" for awhile. It feels like failure. But, you've gotten to the point where the only thing keeping you from sending them would be pride. You know you need help. And, it's not the kind of help that can be accomplished in a day. Or a week. It's resetting your compass. It's reevaluating life. And then...it's accepting that you aren't a failure...you are just changing course to take better care of the people you love.

That's when you finally tell Him. When you kick the (proverbial) dog and scream,


"I CAN'T DO IT!"

That's when you put out a white flag.

And then...something happens that always happens when you finally give up.


God laughs. And says, "Duh."
(Or something more eloquent along those lines.)

Boulder goes away. Rolled right off your chest. The microsecond you said, "I can't..."

______________________________________________

"You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake. " and

 "This was freedom.  Losing all hope was freedom. " (Chuck Palahniuk)

Hopefully people know you're not amazing because you rock at mediocrity. Anymore than you should freakin' put others on a pedestal. It's not loving. It's not true fellowship. You need to stop placing people you respect out of your reach; so you don't have to get close enough to see their need. You can't survive being a martyr, anymore than they can. You can't handle that arrogant, consuming pride. That pride of doing, achieving, hiding. You need real. You ARE screwed up.

But the God you serve isn't.
And...He really does give you exactly. what. you. need.

As sinful as you are. As prideful. Mean. Impatient. Jealous. Apathetic. Rude. Angry. Hurtful. As disgusting as your heart is...it's His. And, even though you're having a hard time beating into your head that God really does love you. He does.

And He expects more of you.

But, not in the way you think. Not in a cleaner home. Whiter smile. Tighter buns. Smarter kids. Bigger ministries. Not in more self-control, organic foods, or trips to the recycling center.

But in surrender. He expects abandonment. He desires it from you.

He desires you. 

Probably so much that it'll make you blush.

The world fades. Problems shrink. Logic is confounded.

When we see glimpses of the love the Father has lavished on us.

And, He'll help you get there. Wherever He wants you to go. Whoever He wants you to talk to. Whatever He wants you to let go of. Whatever sin He wants you to kick to the curb. Lies. Pain. Life.

He'll help.

Romans 5:5-6

 "...and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts...for while we were still helpless, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly."

White Flag pt. 3

(This is when Sarah moves to second person, and she's not quite sure why...)

So. You starts to feel like life might be normal. You dust off your pants. You talk to your husband about the next year. You stay up late night after night...packing with him. You both feel like you have stones in your stomachs. The dread of the initial separation wears. you. ragged. You put up a fence with the help of neighbors. You stay up all night with your children lying all around you. You try not to shut down during your last hours together. But...if you don't shut down, every feeling you've avoided during the past few months leading up to the deployment. Every one will hit you at once. Like an anvil. Every ounce of fear and sadness will just be squished out of you anyway. So...you let go and get squished by that twelve-thousand-pound deployment anvil. You finally say goodbye. On the way home, you listen to your sons cry in a way you've never heard them cry before. You lie flat as a pancake for 24 hours; because that's what anvils do. For the next couple weeks get used to sleeping alone. You still look around for him every night...wanting to fill him in on everything your children did that day. But, hey-O! Life starts lookin' up...

you think you can do this.

You make lesson plans for your kids. You wipe noses. Change peed sheets. Lecture. Hug. Catch toads. Go to church. Skip church because of sickos. Are late to church because of one freakin' left shoe! Wrestle with rowdy kids. Rock tired ones. Brush teeth. Stare into the fridge. Hang out with friends that make you positive there ARE angels here on earth. Answer questions that hurt your brain. Talk on the phone with family.  Get cranky every night...even though you say you won't. Relish the silence after they're asleep. Stay up too late.  Wait for his calls. Wash dirty clothes...but never seem to make the time to fold and put away clean ones. The kids ask to watch the videos of dad. Over and over and over again. It melts your heart that your daughter knows who her daddy is. But when she signs, "dad" and points to the computer every day. That makes you sad. You and her are slowly are building a bond...but you're building it. And, sometimes you don't have the right tools. Sometimes she doesn't. It's awkward. It's slow. However, even if the feeling doesn't remind you of puppy dogs and ice cream; you are convinced more and more that this is love.  That it's right. That your life is good. You, "...set your eyes on the prize." Which would be providing this child a loving, stable, joyful home. A connection to someone who loves her without conditions. You stop looking back so constantly. The beauty is actually in all the ugly, frustrated, sad, lonely...feelings. The beauty is in doing things so hard. Even though you forget to see them as much; there are plenty of awesome, loving, tender, peaceful, and joyful moments. You notice that the older boys need their dad. They need their hero. You notice that your daughters need their dad, too. They need to light up his eyes. You notice that your three year old is absolutely crazy...and you're not sure what to do about that. ha.

You feel like you are spread so thin that smiles are stiff and slow. The house is always a mess. Always. Your ability to rage and lose your temper has grown in leaps and bounds. Love starts to feel like a commodity that DOES have a limited supply.

The moments that you let go. Laugh. Or, when you ask for forgiveness. Their small, sticky hands around your neck, or their little-man -awkward hugs around your waist... those moments let you know you're still good.

___________________________________________________


(In case you are wondering what it looks like to go through adoption, or deployments and stuff. These illustrations made sense.)

(Except this one...I just thought it was funny.)

White Flag pt. 4

White Flag pt. 2

It began when we brought Ray home.

Parts of my heart...parts that I didn't really know were there. They surfaced. Wicked, bane, selfish, silly, mean, cruel, childish parts of my heart were chiseled and peeled back as we started to become family. They are still being peeled back. As scared as I was about learning to love her. As sad as I was about her pain. More than anything; I was absolutely horrified by my own feelings. I knew I should be a better person. I knew more was expected of me. It just hurt so much worse than I thought it would to love someone...differently. To take my heart and tell it that everything it felt. Everything it had done in the past. That all was great--but totally useless. To be rejected. To not be idolized by sleepy newborn eyes. To feel stupid. To feel like I had just jumped off a cliff and was free-falling. It sounds so ridiculous. But it's true. It's like the epitome of humiliation and failure, to plan, spend, love and risk so much on someone...and then see how clueless you were. I realized I had never really been asked to love so unselfishly. Ever.

I was not good at learning.
But, inch by inch we moved...closer. I had to learn loving someone side by side. Not by engulfing them in a bear hug of mommyisms. No gentle kicks inside the womb. No soft, contented sighs while breastfeeding. Sometimes we had to make our history; others, we just had to let it happen. Let go. I had to learn to love in small, small ways. Sharing graham crackers. Bending down to talk to her. Hand feeding her candy. Learning to love everything about her face, her body, her personality. Wondering who she looked like, and not feeling sad that it wasn't me. Seeing her heritage as one so much more wonderful than I had ever grasped before. Not just her mother and father in Ethiopia. Not just how she was loved by me, my husband, my other children, my family, my friends. But the heritage of being a child of God. It blew my mind. Teaching her the fine art of being thrown in the air and caught by someone you love without peeing your pants. Getting tickled without having the Moro reflex. Important things like that. Dancing and "singing." Rocking with bottles...and knowing that the second the bottle was empty, she would jet. Some days felt normal. Some days we cuddled and laughed. I was proud of her. I loved her. She was precious. She was adorably silly and cute. I knew that her life was ordained by God. Despite my heart. I forced myself to go back to my childhood. To journal entries about adoption. To the way it had changed my own legacy, because of my father's adoption. I forced myself to remember that we are ALL adopted. But it still hurts. I expected her pain. I did not expect mine. I thought I would only feel loss for her. I didn't think I would feel loss for myself. I didn't think it would look so ugly and selfish. Some days I would walk away from her crying, with complete apathy. I would watch numbly as her brothers and sisters swallowed her whole with giggles, hugs and kisses...and I felt lost. Some days I looked at the clock, waiting for my job to end. And, then would feel the vice of terror around my heart as I realized my. job. would. NEVER. end. She was never, "going home." This was her home. I was her home. Well...Jesus was her home. But that's what I didn't get at first.

Jason helped me through the worst times. 

He told me to shut the hell up when I told him he would never understand what I felt. He would add ridiculous sentiments of logic and levelheadedness that could not exist in my sorry sea of emotions. And when I sobbed for hours he would wrap his arms around me until my self-loathing and useless worry faded for little while.

God helped, too. 

Mostly by shocking me with the thought...that it didn't matter. I didn't have to do this just right. I guess He knew all along how crazy it would feel. He sent people into my life to remind me of His promises.  He knew my heart. He knew all that ugliness was there anyway. Stupid. He loved me then. He loved me now. He loved Ray better than I did. He loved me better than I could. I think I've just touched the surface of His love. And...just like little Ray would  turn her back to ME in the beginning. Sometimes I'm afraid that's what I do to this crazy love God offers...

We survived.
(Not the same as, "arrived." But we are going to be okay. I know that.)

I don't have terrifying panic attacks about Ray anymore. I'm not so mean. (Yes. I was mean.)  I don't always feel rejected when she rejects me. I get that she's really not rejecting me. She's just rejecting new. New feelings, new touch, new coping. Mind Bomb: I'm also starting to understand that. it's. not. ABOUT. ME. She's not even always, "rejecting" anything. She just doesn't freakin' understand what the heck she is supposed to do! She JUST started wrapping her arms around my neck when I hold her. I used to think she didn't do that because she didn't like being so close (which was partially true) but I realized recently...she didn't KNOW she was supposed to do that. She didn't know she could.  She was watching Grant hang on my neck and climb up me one day...and it just clicked. "Ah, how nice. Your arms can go around their necks. How handy!" I don't project my anger at her so much  (as if she had ANY choice in all this). I'm letting go of her fulfilling my expectations. (You think you won't have any expectations for your child; but you do. You have a WHOLE list of things you expect this child to do for you in your new life together. Admit it now and mooooo-ve on.) I'm getting better at letting her just be herself. I see how God loves me and keeps pursuing my cold, hard heart. I think that the pain I've gone through during the past year must be nothin' compared to what I've put God through...

White Flag pt. 3

Shadows, shots and the best hugs on earth

Yesterday was just one of those days.

It started out with me feeling pretty pathetic, and ended with me feeling incredibly lucky.

I've had a cold for a couple weeks. Right after Thanksgiving, I thought I had kicked that sucker out the door! But, alas...soon I was coughing a ridiculous amount. Like, 30 minutes straight. I get light-headed pretty easily. I have really low blood pressure and think that must have something to do with it.(?)  Maybe my body is just too lazy to get the blood where it needs to be fast enough. Anyway, the coughing fits were freaking me out some, because I kept blacking out a little. Can you black out a little? 

During one of said coughing fits, a friend called and DEMANDED to take my children while I went to the doctor. Okay, she really didn't have to twist my arm at all. I really love my kids...but an hour or two away from them is heaven.

She picked them up and totally made Grant's day by letting him ride in her, "BYUE VAN wit a TV in it!" and then letting him eat apples to his gluttonous heart's content. By the way; what an amazing group of women God has placed in my life! All of them. Amaze me. The ones I've met through adoption. The ones I've met through the Army. The friends I left back home. The ones God gave me as family. I can't really wrap my brain around this as a world-wide phenomenon. I have to believe that I really know 50 or so of the MOST amazing women on the planet. 

Off the rabbit trail: Couldn't get an appointment. Walked into the ER, waited only a little while. Got right in to a doctor. I apologized profusely for using the ER for a cold, but said my husband's deployed and I had a sitter, blah, blah, blah, and by the way, this cough sucks! The doctor didn't lecture me. Told me I had bronchitis. Sent a nurse in for a shot in the rear (lower hip?), showed me how to use an inhaler, and voila! No screaming children. No irritated doctors. No stress finding a babysitter. It all landed on my lap. Miracles happen every day.

When I went to pick up the kids, I made a beeline for Reagan. I hadn't left her at their home before and was kind of worried about her being anxious. When she heard my voice, she ran to me and gave me THE BEST HUG EVER! We're talking, arms fully encircled around my neck, legs wrapped around my waist. She just doesn't do that. I have to show her where to put her appendages usually. She also kept looking up with the happiest grin and saying, "Hi," and then putting her head back on my shoulder. (super happy sigh) It was amazing. AMAZING. I know it doesn't sound like much...but when you've had months of sad cuddles, hesitant hugs, and owie cuddles only given because of obvious pain...this was truly awesome. Later that night  we had bottle time. I hadn't gotten the bottle off the stand yet,  and she was in my arms waiting. You know what? She waited. And snuggled. And smiled. With no bottle in sight. This is also a first.  She still was history as soon as the bottle was gone, and I know that we still have a lot of trust to build. Still. STILL! I am so thankful for those little gifts. Reciprocal love is pretty awesome.  If it's not there--there is no excuse for me to give up. It's just nice to see. To know that her little heart is melting, too.

Finally. While we were watching Ratatouille last night. I thought I saw a shadow in the hallway. Then I saw the shadow hop. Then I saw hopping. I remained calm.

"Jack, did I just see your toad hop down the hallway?"

"No, she can't get out."

hop. hop. hop. (menacing toad grin)  hop.

"JACK! I DID just see your toad hop down the hallway! GET HER NOW!"

(Jumping off the couch) "Okay! Where is she? Which one is it?"

"She's behind the couch, and it's your new toad."

(After a little frog rodeo) "Whoa, mom it IS the new toad. How did you know?"

(All mysteriously) " I told you when you got her, I had a feeling about that one."

"Wow mom. You really DO know everything."

(I didn't tell him that I had seen that stupid toad try to escape MANY times. I like him thinking I know everything.)

 

The things I do for love.

Happiness is...

A full tank of gas.

Milk in the fridge.

Knowing you're not alone.

Happiness is being thankful.

"A Thankful Heart is a Happy Heart!

I'm glad for what I have, that's an easy way to start..."

Junior Asparagus~