Fall and Rest

It has been almost two years since I last posted anything on my blog. It's not a coincidence that two years ago, I also began working full-time for the first time ever. Yes, my years at home were busy. Yes, the things I did within my home were and are still important. But somehow a shift to full-time work was bigger than I realized it might be. It's also true that for years my writing centered around my children and the things they would say and do. It's surreal to now be able to say- I have adult children. And for the last several years, their stories have not been mine to tell.

Today a friend mentioned that she's dreading the drop in temps that are predicted to start tomorrow. We've still been enjoying 80 degree weather, shorts and t-shirts, evening walks with the dog and citronella candles on the porch. I can relate to how my friend feels about the next season beginning in earnest. I used to dread fall and winter; the lack of color and warmth about did me in. But then I turned 40 and my perspective changed. I can hear the crickets and geese outside my window- but I don't dread October.

Nature has a rhythm. Spring is full of energy and activity; summer is growth and yields from the garden; fall is the final harvest time of the season and finishing up final preparations before winter; winter is rest with shorter days and cold.

There is something appealing to me when I think about shorter days, cooler weather and time at home with a type of forced rest. I look forward to pulling out the soup recipes, washing up the fuzzy blankets and gaining an extra hour with the time change. My mom once shared that she loved having a baby during the winter, because it gave her an excuse to stay inside and stay home. It was a sense of forced rest that freed her from feeling any obligation to say "yes" to the abundance of requests that came from church, community and family.  I sometimes feel I need an excuse to stay home and rest, too. 

Around mid-summer, a heavy fatigue set in. Part of it was concern for family with health issues, children with life issues and simply being over-committed. Stepping away from a few commitments for several weeks was uncomfortable, but so needed. It gave me margins that I hadn't been tending on my own and helped me to reset boundaries. Coming back to a few of those commitments brought me joy, not dread, and it came from a place of rest that yielded readiness.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”  Matthew 11:28-30

Be Gentle

 It's been so good to return to campus a few days a week and spend time with my colleagues. In a conversation yesterday, a friend at work asked me if I had set any goals for 2021. Honestly? No. We have some big decisions to make with Brenna this year and a son working hard to graduate on time. I feel like keeping the family boat afloat is about all the goal I can manage. But as she shared a history her husband's family had of setting goals each year: spiritual, financial, personal, physical, it prompted me to pause and reconsider. I decided that my singular goal for this year is to meal plan each month a few weeks at a time and then stick to it. 

I'm not setting goals in each realm this year. I had even doubted grabbing onto a word for the year. But as January has begun and I've watched things continue to unfold around me in my community and nation, the phrase that keeps coming to mind is "Be gentle". 

My goal is to be gentle with myself and others. I will be gentle with myself by allowing time for creativity, thought and writing. I will continue to let go of responsibility for Brenna and see if she is willing to pick it up or not- that will make the decision of our future easier to sort through. I will be gentle by purposely spending time in prayer, seeking His purpose for my day.

I will be gentle with others by listening and not forming my response while they speak, by truly considering their viewpoint and what they are trying to express to me.

That's it. And maybe try to walk the dog- she's good about reminding me to do that though. Did you set any goals this year, or decide not to? I'd love to hear about what any plans - or a decision not to plan- looks like for you.

Philippians 4:5

Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near.

Yellow

When we moved into our house last spring, we opted to repaint a few rooms. When one starts to paint a room-- one  begins to notice things in a new way. Crouched on the floor taping trim, we could see specks of yellow. Yellow in the living room, yellow in the bathroom, yellow on the trim itself that had been repainted white. The outside of the house is yellow. The kitchen tile is lemon yellow. As Greg and I talked over house priorities, it became obvious. 1. Repaint or reside the exterior a neutral color. 2. Remove the yellow kitchen tile and replace with white tile.

Two days after moving into the house, work announced big changes and we were told that his job was safe for one year. So, the yellow tile stayed. I was somewhat resentful about leaving it in place. It was so dated, so 80's, so not me at all. And there is so much of it. Whoever designed and built the kitchen was downright generous with the tiling job. But life is busy with four teens. And on an average day, I don't find myself with a lot of down time to contemplate tile color.

With shelter in place extending after weeks at home, I found myself spending more time than ever in my kitchen cooking. We're home for lunch and together for dinners too, so the kitchen has been a busy place. It's funny how I notice things about my house in a new way when I'm spending more time there. The tile cleans up easily. A few sprays of windex and a paper towel make it shine. And when it's clean and the kitchen is picked up, it's bright and sunny. Somehow I notice the light reflecting from the tile more than I notice the yellow.

It would be a big job to replace it. And if we replaced tile, we might as well replace the counter. And if we replace the counter, the cabinets will really look old next to new counter.... It begins to feel like a domino effect of time and money that I just don't want to tie up right now.

Walking through Wal-Mart this afternoon, I passed a little display of tiny trees. Among the lilacs and greens was a small lemon tree with bright yellow, plastic lemons. I circled around back to the display and picked up the little tree. It looked so sweet and so, well, happy.  When I brought it home, I cleaned out the little corner of the counter by the microwave and settled it into place. It looks right at home there.

"I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength." Philippians 4:12-13

Hope

One afternoon last summer, it was Max's turn to mow the yard. Our backyard at the new house is very different from the backyard at the old house-- this one is full sun. There is a small pine tree, some landscaping grasses and an attempt at a berm that is really just a small, dry hill. As Max made his rounds with the weed eater along the fence, he stopped to study a tiny oak tree growing at the edge. It caught his attention because the closest oak tree in the neighborhood is a few houses away. Max is my "noticer". He sees tiny differences and details in people and his surroundings. Leave it to him to see that tiny little tree.

Where Max comes from, oak trees are special. They symbolize something very small becoming something towering, strong and enduring. Latvians use oak bark for medicinal purposes and in tea and still weave together oak leaves for Jani, to wear the wreaths for summer solstice.

This tiny oak was 1 inch tall, truly a baby. Within minutes, Max had dug it up and transplanted it in the center of the yard, marking the presence of the tiny tree with a large wooden stick. "See Mom? Someday it will be a mighty oak".

There it's been all winter long. It's dealt with ice, snow and our dog chasing her ball over the entire area. The marker hasn't moved, but I had questioned if the tree made it through the winter.

I decided to mow the yard today. My mind has been mulling over so many thoughts and there is something about push mowing that tends to just give you time to think. As I made my rounds in the back, there was the tiny tree. It's almost impossible to see it until you're almost on top of it. But the marker is there and  continues to protect it from the mower.

Seeing that little tree gives me hope and it makes me happy. That tiny tree has been seen. It has been saved from death in the fence row and transplanted where it can have a future. It has tiny buds on it-- it's growing and continuing to develop a root system. And I have no doubt it will still be there next summer and the summer after that.





                                            

Off Kilter

Things have just felt off kilter this week. We are creatures of habit at our house and when a routine is disrupted, the ripples of change travel quite a ways out in the family pond.

Monday was birthday day-- I had taken the day off from work, Brenna had plans to visit the zoo and eat lunch at Olive Garden and Sam would choose dinner and have friends overnight. Then everything changed. Somehow between Friday and Monday, everything looked different. As last week progressed, I hesitated to invite friends to a sleepover and we decided to wait. Then the zoo trip transitioned from St. Louis to Bloomington before landing at "maybe in a few weeks when the weather is warmer..."

Ugh. I felt like a failure as a mom. Birthdays are supposed to be special, YOUR DAY, with special food, fun outings and friends. It's not supposed to involve homemade pizza and mom working the majority of the day. But here's the deal- it is what it is.

So, we shifted gears. Brenna chose pizza, Sam didn't care about food at all and after dinner concluded, we had cake and ice cream. Brenna's request for the evening was that we all play games. I hadn't played charades in a long time. I hadn't played hide and go seek even longer. But as we just acted silly and rolled with it, phones were set aside. Media was ignored and the "off kilter" feeling began to wane.

A good friend has said many times, "Expectations aren't good or bad. They just are." I tend to carry around expectations that I am not even aware of-- that my work schedule won't change, that my lifestyle can continue without interruption, that I will be able to find ground beef for taco night on a whim. When that expectation goes unmet-- off kilter.

Sometimes to counter balance off kilter, it requires doing something unexpected and out of the norm. Whether it's a random act of kindness, hiding rocks in the neighborhood, eating lunch on the patio or walking by the lake-- even if you don't "feel like it", just spin yourself silly by doing something new and unexpected today. It might actually make you feel more grounded instead of simply dizzy.

Traditions and Perspectives

We took down the Christmas tree today. By "took down", I mean carried it out and threw it into the fire pit. Brenna was distraught when she thought for a moment we might only take it to leaf/limb drop-off.

"Aren't we going to burn it?" 

Part of the fun of having a live Christmas tree from our local Rural King is lighting it on fire as Easter approaches. (He is risen indeed!). I'm not sure how a Christmas tree in March can produce flames 8 feet tall, but we look forward to it every year. Honestly, it's an inappropriate tradition that we all love.

Our other tradition is the gingerbread houses. My boys aren't as excited about this, but the girls still love it. This year we waited until after Christmas. Wow-- $1.89 will take you all the way with the gingerbread kit at Aldi today. Emily's looked neat and tidy with dripping icicles and gumdrop trim. Somehow, Brenna's had a structural  weakness. No matter how we caulked with icing, propped with canned goods and gripped it together, she was short a wall and one side of the roof. How was this possible? It was the same exact kit Emily had used.

Here's the kicker though-- when we placed both houses side by side on the top of the dining room hutch, (a tradition started when I had toddlers who would potentially choke on the ornamental gumdrops if I dared to take a bathroom break) both houses looked fine. It was all in the angle of perspective-- kind of like how I can stand to the side and prop my hand on my hip to attempt to look thinner. Sometimes it works.

A mama recently shared a struggle with receiving Christmas pictures from friends in the mail. Their family is going through a difficult time and it hurts. Looking at pictures of coordinating outfits and smiling children in what appears to be a cohesive family unit is almost more than she can bear. "They can't all have it all together, can they?" I love a good family picture as much as the next person. But no, probably few families truly have it all together. It's just the angle of perspective. For heaven's sake, we have someone else photograph our family simply because one of my kiddos is more likely to behave and less likely to cross his/her eyes if they know we're paying someone to take our picture.

Christmas is tricky. Holidays tend to magnify emotions that we already have, layered with expectations that we carry along with us. My tree is down, but I'm leaving the gingerbread houses up for awhile.

18 Summers

There's been a little saying circulating on social media these days... something along the lines of "You only get 18 summers with your child-- make them count." Oh the pressure. I get heartburn just thinking about it.

My oldest son turns 18 on Monday. He's spent 4 summers with us total. The first summer was absolute magic as we tried to fit in every activity and experience that we could. That summer he was our guest. The next summer we waited, worked and hoped as we held our breath for a referral to travel and bring him home as an official Kaurin. That led to the next summer with a family vacation that allowed him to meet extended family from North Carolina and New York. This brings us to his fourth summer in our home. I'm working the majority of the week, he's balancing summer school and football practice and life is pretty ordinary. But I'm ok with that. This summer he has a list of chores, does laundry on a regular basis and drives me around town. I'm finding that there's beauty in the ordinary and it reaffirms how important each one is in our family.

I look at the pictures of our first summer together and am amazed at how much my children have grown, but I also see an insecurity in me as I tried to make memories. There was a ticking clock as his time with us was short. We really didn't know if we'd get to see him again or not. I remember reaching a point that summer where when asked what he wanted to do, the answer was to fish at a friend's pond or just hang out at home.

Our home was small and simple, but it was good. We penciled in the growth marks for the kids, watched the fireflies from the backyard swing and ate too many popsicles. And when he left us, we all ugly cried. For several days.

The Bible says "Teach us to number our days so that we may gain a heart of wisdom" Proverbs 90:12. I don't want to look at the brief window of childhood or summer with a panic of time passing too quickly. Rather, I'd rather appreciate the day for what it is. The summer spent hosting gave me a new perspective on numbering my days and not wishing any part of it away. Now, I find that I like working part of the day, spending afternoons with my kids and evenings listening to Brenna talk to herself on her swing.

"You only get 18 summers..." I will not be sad for the summers I missed with Max. But I will love each day that he is with us. I won't begrudge Sam his sleepovers but enjoy the moments we have together. My four teens are showing me how beautiful it can be to hold on loosely.

Winning

I notice a push lately with online articles on motherhood. It tends to center around the idea of always choosing to join in the experience with your child, to say yes, to be the fun mom at every opportunity.  Be present! They're only little for a little while. Make memories. And document every memory with a picture or it's like it didn't even happen.

While I used to embrace it, I just can't anymore. I bought into those ideas when my children were small and for a season I orchestrated messy fun, outings to the park, play-dates with friends, blanket forts and literary circles under our maple tree. But a few weeks ago, when the Valentine party invite came home for my daughter's life skills school, I marked the box for "not attending". I have attended 14 Valentine parties in her school career and I'm tapping out.

 I have teenagers and here's the thing, sometimes it's just enough that you're staying sane. Sometimes the biggest win for the day was not answering snark with snark in return. The victory came in the gentle answer that kept a situation from escalating. It might have been the love you showed by making your child his sandwich when you knew he was running behind with extra things to do that morning, even though he can pack his own lunch. The win for the day might have been not doing an audible gasp, but instead giving a calm and steady reminder when your teen driver became confused about who needed to yield before turning onto Lincoln Avenue.

I miss the camaraderie I had with the other moms during the little years. It was less lonely then. Now, friends may not respond to a text, busy with their own teens and the craziness that comes from driving kids to social engagements and sporting events. I used to be more than a little self righteous about how the teen years would look at our house-- we would not over-schedule. We would eat dinner as a family every night.  We would strictly limit screens. Everything looks a little different and feels a little different. Tonight one of my boys fired up Gilmore Girls on Netflix to watch with me, and it felt incredibly sweet and thoughtful.  The quality time wasn't at all how I envisioned it would be, but it's quality all the same.

I'm too tired right now to create magic. Yes, childhood is brief and that's the point. They're not meant to stay. When I pull my oldest boy down to hug his neck, I can't help but whisper, "I feel like we got you home just in time to help you launch." Part of that breaks my heart a little, but another part of me is ok with that. It's just how it's supposed to be. 

Little things and Clutter

It's been a long time since I last posted in my blog. Our adoption this past year and a half has felt a bit like a new moon orbiting our earth and pulling at the tides. Everything changed. So many things have been put aside and put on hold while we have adjusted as a family and have loved on our new son. Which may explain the clutter in my home.

I read the quote this week "Clutter is just delayed decisions". The truth of that statement resonated with me. I am surrounded by delayed decisions in my home. I began taking pictures of the cluttered areas in my home, in order to have a better idea of a "before" and "after". Just like seeing pictures of myself lets me track if my weight has gone up or down, seeing these photos of my home has been a moment of truth. I can walk past it and stop seeing it, but somehow viewing that photo I just took makes me pause and then want to take action.

I've wanted to paint my bedroom for a few years now, but the clutter has held me back. It felt too difficult to move everything and deal with the "stuff". Our bedroom carpet also needs replaced, but the thought of moving and sorting through "stuff" has kept me borderline content with our matted forest green flooring. Delayed decisions, delayed actions and delayed dreams to a certain extent.

But this week I began to slowly declutter with an online community of support. And as I watch them part with things-- some of value, some just junk, it makes me braver to deal with my stuff. Even the stuff that once belonged to people who are now deceased. Oh the guilt and obligations that can reach beyond the grave!!!!!! Keep it! Store it! Treasure it! Pass it on! Ugh. I may choose cremation when I pass and just ask for a discount rate that will allow my loved ones to throw in extra stuff with me into the oven and spare my children from dealing with my junk. Instead of a visitation, maybe we could just caravan truckloads of my crap to the cremation facility. But I digress.

It's freeing to let things go. It feels a little rebellious. It's also hopefully going to shed a little light on a decision yet to be made---It's going to allow me to discern if we have truly outgrown our home as a family of 6, or if we simply need fewer things to allow more living to take place. That's the real test this month. So, I'm going through my linens. I threw away a box of tapioca from 2012 and a spatula that the mixer tried to eat. Looking forward to more purging!

Very Soon

The plane tickets are purchased. The apartment is lined up-- we're just about ready to go. In three weeks we will be on our way to D's country in Northern Europe. We're gathering up items to pack, including all of the "just in case" things like Tylenol and trash bags. D's bag is already packed. And that alone tells me everything I need to know. We're so excited to see him!

It was about a month ago that I woke up from a vivid dream. Dreams aren't frequent for me, and realistic dreams are even less common for me. In my dream, we had surprised him by arriving in his country. He was at the dentist office, reclined in the chair when we came into the room. He got up, came over and hugged me. In that dream I could feel the hair on the back of his neck and even smell his soap. At that point I woke up, feeling disoriented because it had seemed that real. And my thought at that time was, "It's going to be very soon."

And it is. We will keep you posted on our travels as we are able.

Overwhelmed

It's only Wednesday, but it feels like it should be Friday. This week we were overwhelmed to receive donations in addition to those on our YouCaring account that pushed us up and over the edge of what we needed for our immigration application and dossier. That means we're now working towards in country costs for trip 1. This is a really big deal! We are just over 1/3 of the way to our final total. It's amazed us how many people have given a financial gift in the past few months, told us that they were praying, or have asked about him and shown excitement about our news.

In the midst of the paperwork, planning fundraisers, writing grants and organizing documents it can be easy for me to get tunnel vision and focus only on the task at hand, but a few times each week, I receive the same text, "So Mom, when are you and Dad coming to get me?"

He's waiting so patiently. But each time I receive one of those texts, it encourages me to stay up a little bit later to work on the grant writing, pick up extra sub jobs for the classes with a more challenging dynamic, and pray. He has a face and a name and there isn't a moment that we aren't thinking of him. The only comparison I have is that when I was expecting each of our three biological children, once I knew of the pregnancy, there wasn't a waking moment that I "forgot" I was pregnant. The similarity is that there isn't a waking moment that I'm unaware of him, of the eight hour time difference and that he's beginning his day when we're ending ours and what we need to do to bring him home.

I remember sitting at the big "clash" football game last fall a few weeks after he had headed back to his country. The sounds and activity were overwhelming with the bands on the field, the players, the cheerleaders and dancers, all of the students. I sat and just took it all in. I wondered what he would think of it all if he was here and had a moment where I allowed myself to dream, "What if he's here for this next year?" With the way things are going, there's a chance he really could be here for that game this fall.

I don't want to get caught up on a timeline and predict too far ahead what I think will happen. There's only so much control we have over this-- so much of it will depend on waiting for translation, for his country to decide on court dates, for our social worker to complete her part. But I admit it... we would love to take him to that football game.

Stepping out of the boat

The past few months have been a roller coaster of emotions for our family. And what seemed impossible, now appears to be possible. To quote the Bandit, "We have a long way to go and a short time to get there" but deep in my soul, I believe that we will indeed get there.

I listened to an online sermon today from my home church up north on Peter stepping out of the boat. The message resonated with me, challenged and encouraged me. Multiple books have been written on this and probably countless sermons have been preached on the topic, but only because the idea of taking a risk to do something extraordinary yet improbable reaches down deep inside to a touch-point that God purposely designed and placed there.

 If you had told me a year ago that we would be moving forward to adopt a child, I would have been skeptical. Greg and I had long talked about adoption, but never pursued it.  After locking eyes one last time with D in O'Hare last summer before he left, that whisper came, "Step out of the boat". The hollowness I felt echoed the whisper when his shoes weren't lying by the door, his toothbrush had been packed away and Justin Timberlake no longer played in his room. And yet, I fought it. Because how do I know if this is what I'm supposed to do, or just what I really want?

This whole process has been a time of asking God to speak slowly and use little words so that we don't miss the point, we don't miss His leading and we don't make an error in judgement. It's easy to view everything through my lens and believe there is a tidy answer that aligns perfectly with my perspective. But we all know it isn't that simple.

Amidst the complexity, our prayer has become, "Lead us where you want us to go and close the doors we're not meant to walk through." And after months of slowly walking down a dimly lit hallway and tripping over gray objects, the most important door in the process has swung wide open.

I hear the waves and my feet are dangling over the side. I can't help but wonder if Peter felt like he was going to throw up when he moved his leg up and over the edge, or if he was simply euphoric, a combination of the two, or something else entirely. Someday I'll have to ask.

Full Circle

I had been wanting to join a ladies' Bible study for awhile. In the past, I had attended one that met in the morning during the week, but as I got busier with work, it just didn't make sense to continue. Last Monday evening was the first meeting and it was wonderful. Afterwards, chatting with a few of the ladies, I couldn't shake the feeling that I knew one of them from somewhere. The details began to fall into place: three children close together in age, had lived in the area for a long time. It was her. It was the woman who helped me at Sarah Bush eleven years ago.

Eleven years ago Brenna had strep, Sam and Emily were small and only sixteen months apart in age and I needed to take Brenna to the doctor. Greg had class and work, friends were busy and by necessity it was going to be a family outing for the siblings that day. After seeing the doctor, Brenna laid herself down in the middle of the foyer at Sarah Bush and refused to get up. If you've ever had a kindergartner go limp, you know exactly how hard it is to get them back up-- especially if you need to push a double stroller any distance while carrying the limp noodle.

It was then that this woman, who I had never met before, purposely approached me, pushed the stroller out to my car with me and then re-entered the hospital for her son's appointment. She doesn't remember this happening. I do.

This act of kindness reassured me that I was not on my own as a mother. Her reaching out assured me that people didn't simply stare at our family when autistic behavior was evident for all to see. It meant so much to me and made me love my community more. It made me want to have eyes to see and help others, if (and this was a big if) I ever reached a place with children walking upright that freed up my hands to walk alongside and help others.

God has such a sense of humor bringing this full circle.


"And whatever you do or say, do it as a representative of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks through him to God the Father."

Colossians 3:17

Reflections on the beauty of failure and jagged edges

I had good intentions of blogging regularly while D was with us these past four weeks. It isn't that it has been four weeks without event, conversation or growth. It's just that the longer I host and the more I spend time with him, the more I realize how so much of our time together isn't necessarily mine to share. Here are a few thoughts and snippets that I feel are "mine" that I can let you take a peek at.

D is a wonderful and complex young man. We weathered a rough week during week 2-3, had a big conversation on Christmas Eve that put lots of his questions out in the open. Frank conversation can be hard for me-- I grew up in a home where you often ignored or danced around difficult conversations. This is new territory to simply ask, "Are you angry with me? Let's talk about it." It was also new to reassure him, "It's okay if you're mad at me." And the all time favorite D quote from our time together, "You failed me, mom." The first time I heard it, I felt like I had been kicked. I didn't even have a response because the shock and hurt were pretty consuming. It led to some time in reflection, prayer and digging into the core of why it ate me up when he said that.  The next time I heard it, I hugged him and said, "Then it's really like you're part of the family. Because I fail my husband and children spectacularly on a regular basis. Get in the "mom-failed-me" line and enjoy the view."

And at that point, all passive aggressive behavior stopped and we grew closer.

When friends ask, "How's it going?" I hesitate to share some of those little gems. I don't want to portray D in a negative light. And I don't want to insinuate that hosting was always difficult or without reward. On the contrary-- it's been an amazing time together. We had spiritual conversations that resulted in him sharing his honest views and questions, not just giving me Sunday School answers that will make me happy. I feel like we had the chance to know him better, and not just in the sense of the exotic: "Wow! A teen from Eastern Europe who has a completely different culture and language we can learn more about". No, this hosting was getting to know him better, and that was a lovely experience.

The more I reflect, the more I believe that the rough, jagged edges of our time together came from his comfort level and a careful "push" at us. Are we really safe? Do we really care about him-- even if he's challenging in the moment? Honestly, I came to see these difficult moments as a beautiful thing. Because my biological kids can be real stinkers sometime, but know that we'll always love them no matter what. I hope he came away with the same realization.

Gifts and Waiting

Tomorrow is the big day-- D arrives. He left for the airport at 4 am his time (8 pm our time) today. His new flannel sheets are washed and on his bed. His clothes are washed and put away in his dresser. Three of his four gifts are waiting under the tree, and those gifts have been the most challenging part of preparing for his return. Our family simplified gift giving last year and decided to use the same system again this year: Something you want, something you need, something to wear, something to read.

Read? English is his second language. We debated ordering Harry Potter in his language, but after texting with him, were thrilled to discover that he likes "Greg's Diary" in English. So Diary of a Wimpy Kid books are wrapped and waiting.

Want? Who knows what he really wants. He asked for a shirt that says "Captain Crazy" on it. (Thank you Doris at Winning Stitch-- it's perfect!). And he would like a package of Whoppers. He refuses to commit to any other gift idea or hope for a gift. Maybe he feels uncomfortable suggesting a gift. Maybe it's just awkward. I can't pretend to know. We spent five weeks with him this summer, but only now are really getting to know more about what he thinks and feels.

Wear? I almost teared up walking into a department store and being helped by a teenage boy with the same pants size and haircut. A few shirts are wrapped under the tree, but the majority of his clothes are waiting for him in his dresser.

Need? This gift has yet to be purchased. I don't know what he needs. At our initial hosting, I thought he needed many things, but I didn't really understand his situation. I probably still don't completely grasp the reality of his life. I believe he needs more people in his corner-- to believe in him, encourage him and just love him through his teen years. Because really, the teen years are hard enough on their own.

The only thing D has asked for is if we will bring coffee for him to the airport. He doesn't want to be sleepy on the way home, but wants to stay up and visit. This time tomorrow we'll be settling back in with him at home. Looking forward to the 4 weeks ahead!

When It Isn't What I Hoped For

The past several months have been ones where I have hung on tightly to my faith, believing that we were called to a specific child for a specific purpose. I still believe we've been called to this child, but the path isn't the one I envisioned. Can I just level with you? I don't have a clue as to what God's doing here.

Was this to simply love on this child for a brief time?

Was it to make us more sensitive to those who are vulnerable and to families in the adoption process?

Was it so that he'll have two more people in the world who pray for him each and every morning at breakfast and each night when we tuck in our other three?

Was it to teach us generosity when we briefly peered over a ledge of financial uncertainty-- realizing we'd never accomplish this on our own? Because I swear I will never be apathetic towards anyone fundraising for an adoption ever again.

Was it to show us that God's best might not be in line with what we think is best?

Was it to guard the heart of the one who has taken care of him for so very long?

I really don't know.

Here's what I do know. This beautiful boy is loved by people on two continents.This entire situation doesn't surprise God. I kind of wish it did--- but it doesn't. We were showered with support from some of the most unexpected of friends and family and I don't take that for granted.

He isn't gone forever-- he just won't live here with us. And I can be good with that most days if he's happy. And hopefully as time passes, I can be good with that every day.

Getting Ready for Christmas

The "see you later" in July was one of the hardest experiences I had ever had, but the anticipation of D's arrival for Christmas is a great feeling. Greg has been doing extra IT work on the side, friends and family have given us financial gifts towards hosting, "Realty Executives Cooper Spransy" in Madison, Wisconsin has sponsored an amazing grant via Project 143, a local church is doing a chili lunch fundraiser for us in October and I'm subbing my tail off to fly one of our favorite people in the world from Eastern Europe to Chicago this December for four weeks. We can't wait to see him!

There has so much happening behind the scenes and a lot of it we aren't free to disclose--yet. But we look forward to doing so very soon. God is at work and the reassurance we have received is completely of Him. I am a worrywart by nature and a lack of planning and schedule drives me absolutely bonkers. We still feel led step by step in the direction we are going. I remember a sermon Scott Sims did several years back about faith and compared it to taking a walk in the dark with a flashlight: you can only see so far, yet you keep going. We definitely feel that we are walking a flashlight journey at the moment, but we know who we're following and that settles my heart unlike anything else can.

There is a sense of joy and gratitude that has lingered since July, even on the hard days. So many of you have told us that you are praying for our family and for D and for that we say, "Thank you!". We feel it. We really do! Looking forward to sharing more updates as we are able.

Bracelets

On the 4th of July, our family went to the annual parade with our guest, D, who was staying with us for the summer. He had never celebrated the 4th in the US and all of our traditions became more meaningful to us as we shared them with him. At the parade, the kids caught candy, trinkets, pencils and popsicles. Leaving the parade, D had a bracelet on his wrist that he hadn't had earlier. The cloth band had the acrostic "P.U.S.H". He wore the bracelet almost the entire length of his stay with us.

At the pool a few weeks later, I mentioned this to my friend. "What does P.U.S.H mean?" I asked. I wasn't even sure who had thrown it during the parade route. Republicans? Democrats? Karate group? Who knew. After googling results, my friend read results aloud: Pressure Ulcer Scale for Healing-- no. Partnership for Urban South Hampshire (UK), unlikely. "Pray until something happens":yes.

In almost every picture of him, he's wearing that bracelet. I'm not sure as he knows what it stands for-- whether it just reminds him of attending the parade together that day, or he likes the look or feel of it. I don't know.

Tonight a friend handed me a bracelet of my own, with the simple word "hope" on it. It ties into the meaning of D's bracelet. I have hope that good things are ahead for him, that God has put something on our hearts for a reason, that so many people who care about him are going to accomplish great things.

As I wear my bracelet tonight, I wonder if he is still wearing his too.


"Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,"

Emily Dickinson

A hard "see you later"

Our guest left on Sunday and it was so very hard. The morning was teary before we left, the ride to O'Hare was subdued, but okay. It was after he got in line to check his bag that something I had never experienced before rose up in me. I know we promised his country that we would send him back, but in that moment, I didn't know if I could physically let him go.

The "see you later" at the airport was so hard-- difficult enough that people actually stared. On the ride home Sam and Em were pretty emotional, while Brenna remained stoic and asked when we could stop for a treat. Oh, the levity she lends to every situation ;) It felt like someone had died when we went into the boys' room and saw the empty bed, when I found a stray sock of his in the laundry, when I saw his containers of applesauce in the refrigerator, his bananas on the counter that totally gross out Sam. I actually found myself listening to his national anthem on Youtube during my morning walk, which felt pitiful to do, but made me feel better somehow.

And yet, God is at work in this. Oh, is He ever. We are being stretched and grown in faith and trust in a way we have never experienced before as we follow into unfamiliar territory. There is a new sense of gratitude for time together, for the little things we enjoy, for getting to have an amazing summer with him. We are hopeful that our guest can return to spend December with us and until then, we pray over him with a new fervor. Will you pray for him too? 

July 4th

We celebrated July 4th with D this week. For the record, July 4th is my absolute favorite holiday. I love that there are no social expectations--- just spending time with friends and continuing traditions. One of our traditions is attending the parade. I love knowing that every year the Republicans throw tootsie rolls and the Democrats have the awesome jazz band. There will be many princesses, old tractors and the horses will be last. (Okay, maybe there are some expectations after all ;).

D was quiet throughout the parade and somewhat stoic. Then he saw the vehicle with the puppets. There are little things like that he gets so excited about and it cracks me up.

We enjoyed dinner with some neighbors and then ended our evening at the airport for fireworks. He has been in the US before for July  4th, but had never seen a larger firework display. We arrived an hour early to grab a spot and settle in. He was quiet throughout, but said that he really liked it, that it was "big". He remained stoic when as soon as it ended Sam instructed him, "Run, D! Now we have to try to get out of the parking lot!" He looked at me and I told him that the challenge is not to lose your religion while navigating your minivan out of the airport after the fireworks. He quickly snagged 2 chairs and jogged behind Greg to the van. Five minutes later we were headed home-- record time!

He has started to call me "Mom" and Greg "Dad". I don't know what he thinks or feels when he uses those names for us, if they affect him like they do us. I love hearing him say it and I love having him here. It feels very simple when it's just the six of us but quickly becomes complicated when we add others to the mix. There's still a preference to stick closer to home and not venture out too far or for too long, which is completely fine. We're enjoying our time together.