Opening Up

We've had D with us since Sunday and I am beginning to see a new comfort level for him with being at home. I have to remind myself that the stoicism isn't always boredom, but perhaps a combination of processing an environment, working really hard to translate everything, coming from a quieter and more reserved culture and then living with us ;)

On Tuesday night, he told Sam that he would like to do Cross Country with him the next morning. Greg is a shoe nut and didn't feel like the converse type sneakers were going to be a good situation for 3 miles of running. Thankfully, size 10 1/2 running shoes were only a quick text away and a good friend graciously shared a pair with us. This friend lamented the condition she felt they were in, but he hasn't taken them off except to sleep. They're a hit!

I had butterflies on Wednesday morning. Would he like running? Would he be able to keep up since he doesn't run at home? Sam informed me that he couldn't keep up with D until they reached the hills. D was happy when we came home and when I asked if he wanted to go back, it was a confident "Ya" without the usual shrug accompaniment. I often find that if he feels he will require extra effort or fuss, he doesn't give a confident yes, but tries to pass it off like it isn't a big deal. Today it was exciting when I asked his opinion on a clothing item and he actually said, "no".  I'm glad he's starting to feel more comfortable and give his true opinion.

He and Sam are doing well together. They both love playing video games together, throwing water balloons, swimming and riding bikes. Right now he's expressing a desire to just stick close to home and around Charleston and not do big city activities that we had planned, which is fine. I'm interested to see if that will change as the weeks go by or if he will still want to just have a low key stay.

He's Here

He's here! He's really here! After a long wait at O'Hare, we were able to bring D home with us on Sunday. At that point, he had been awake for 20 hours plus. He was an absolute trooper and incredibly polite, even when exhausted. I know some of this is him trying very hard to put his best foot forward and that we are in a "honeymoon" period with this visit--- but he's a great kid.

Due to privacy, we aren't able to list his country or full name, but I do want to blog about our visit. On the way home from the airport, we stopped at McDonald's (his request) and could see storm cloud that had passed by along the interstate. There was the most eerie pink and purple glow and in the midst of that was a rainbow. The sun was setting, so it didn't make any sense to me that there was enough light left for a rainbow, but there it was all the same. And as hokey as it sounds--- that rainbow meant a lot to me.

As this silent teenager stares with exhausted eyes out his window, I had butterflies. "What if he thinks our family is nuts? What if he hates it here? What if he gets bored?" And there in front of me is that rainbow. It was a moment of God whispering "I'm here and see it. I've got this."

All we need to do is love on D for the next 5 weeks. I had felt pressure to parent a certain way, have my home cleaned a certain way, treat spots on the carpet, make sure the hole in the bathroom wall had been repaired and painted but in the end, he came and slept all night, despite the roughed up patchwork in the bathroom that wasn't repainted yet (and still isn't).

This visit so far is challenging insecurities I have long had about my home, family, dynamic and who I am as a mom, who Greg and I are as a couple. It's good to shake things up and get a shift of perspective.

My biggest fear that D won't enjoy his time was pushed aside when I heard him laugh for the first time today. He's settling in and getting more comfortable and we are too. I won't expect a rainbow every day of his visit, but God's sending a lot of good stuff our way as we spend time together.

Less Than 2 Weeks Away

A few months ago, I happened upon a website for the organization Project 143. The organization specializes in hosting children in the U.S from Eastern Europe. When scrolling through their site the thought was briefly entertained, "Wouldn't it be cool..." and then just as quickly put aside. I spoke to Greg about it briefly and thought that was the end of it. Until he called me one day on his way to work and asked me to make a phone call and begin paperwork. We prayed about it, wrestled with it, weighed out the advantages and scary parts and prayed some more. God was pulling us both in the same direction towards this.

Fast-forward two months later and we find ourselves waiting for a visitor to come and stay with us. Google Translate has been added to our phones, the bed is made, clothes are washed and waiting. This whole experience is something that I wouldn't have predicted even six months ago, but we're excited (and nervous) and ready (or as ready as we can be).

This summer will be different from any other summer we have experienced. Our visitor will be with us just five weeks, arriving in late June and then will return to Eastern Europe in late July. We will learn some of his language, hopefully he gains even more English during his stay and I will be even more thankful than ever for Google and their apps.

For now, June rolls along like status quo-- three kiddos choosing activities and going a variety of directions during the week, but the prediction is that July is going to find us doing daytrips together and some fun repeat activities that will probably feel new again when sharing them with someone: seeing the world's fastest pop machine, ringing the world's largest windchimes, visiting the zoo, staying home, getting bored, swimming, learning how to live with someone new in our house and gaining a new perspective.

I'm enjoying June so very much, but I'm especially excited for what is ahead.

Merry Christmas or Happy Easter

Spring break usually involves at least a few hours dedicated to cleaning and de-cluttering. While working on my kitchen counter, I found the remaining stack of Christmas cards addressed with names only, waiting to be fully addressed and stamped. These people sent us a card. They did not receive one in return. Hopefully they truly believe it's better to give than receive.

I held these cards in my hand back in early January and weighed out what to do. It was completely within logic to mail them at this point. But I needed stamps. And I didn't have any. And the post office is far away. And I never remember the customer service counter when I'm shopping at County Market. And then January was over.

One morning after my second cup of coffee, I picked them up again in February. Perhaps I would compose a witty little snippet to tuck into the envelope with our Christmas card... It wasn't the end of the world to mail them out at this point. After all, it's only 5 weeks post-Christmas. I wasn't receiving any stragglers in the mail at this point, but still, this could work.

Now it's March and we're getting ready for Easter.

Each of these cards represent a lovely person, whom I value. An ugly voice in my head finishes that sentence with "... but someone who is just not valued enough to warrant a trip to the local post office".  I feel judged by my clutter. It tells me what I didn't do, as opposed to what I did do.

I don't like facing jobs left undone because of this.

So tonight I am giving myself some grace. I'm throwing those cards in the trash and refusing to feel guilt over who didn't receive a card. If I missed you this Christmas--know that you were thought of. Not only in December, but yet again in January, February and then in March when I threw your card away.

Fear, Fearlessness, And All That's In Between

Lately I found that I couldn't "snap out of it". The constant news stream of impasse for the budget at the state level struck fear in me. Brenna turns 15 in March. What is going to be available for her as far as a day program/work opportunity  when she ages out of the school system? What if the funding isn't there? An informational meeting for parents about PUNS selection and funding made me feel ill.

Over coffee, a good friend asked "What is your quiet time looking like these days?" I began to make excuses: Sam gets up really early, I've been working a lot lately, I haven't plugged back into a Bible study group and need to do that and finally it wound back around to the truth. I don't want to. I don't want to ready my Bible. I don't want to read promises that feel like they don't apply to me right now. I don't want to pray and hope for the best when deep down, I am scared beyond belief about what her future could look like if the state government drives these fragile opportunities of future hope into the ground. Should I go back for my Master's and attempt to find a higher paying job in the future? What am I supposed to DO? I just need to know how to fix it and to know what to do. Tears fell openly at Starbucks as I told her that honestly, God felt far away right now. The coffee date ended with a small nugget of advice. Perhaps, I only needed to take a small step forward. Instead of trying to figure out so many different things, maybe I just needed to read my Bible and pray for 15 minutes in the morning and go on from there.

I dug around in the bathroom closet and found a study from several years ago, "Living Fearlessly: A Study in the Book of Joshua". It was crammed in between Angela's Ashes and a photo scrapbook and was the only Bible study book in sight. I opened the pages and was instantly transported back to that study group of ladies gathered around a large table. There in the margin was 2 Corinthians 2:14 "Now thanks be to God who always leads us in triumph in Christ, and through us diffuses the fragrance of His knowledge in every place." I needed this. I needed to be reminded of triumph. I needed to stop emitting the odor of fear like a dreaded deodorant fail and instead diffuse the fragrance of His knowledge and rest secure in that.  My time in Joshua and the study book hit a reset button for me that had desperately needed punched.

That afternoon, Brenna accompanied me to the grocery store. She loves to go when it's just her-- and today was her day. Near the dairy cooler, a young lady made eye contact with Brenna, smiled and began to make small talk with her. This isn't our norm. Assuming it was a past classmate, I asked if she attended school in Charleston. "No, I go to school in Arcola, but live her now. What group home does she live in?" My heart stopped. "She doesn't live in a group home; she's still at home with us right now. Do you live in one?" Before even weighing out if it was appropriate, I blurted out, "Are you happy?"

We stood and visited several minutes as the teenager told about her group home, that she had moved there last summer, loved it and didn't want to move back home. I had so desperately needed reassurance that no matter what, Brenna was going to be okay. I needed to throw off the weight and fear that her happiness hinges on my ability to care for her decades from now and Let. It. Go. This young lady who locked eyes on Brenna and persisted in having a conversation with her was nothing short of "His knowledge in every place"... even at the grocery store.  Had my quiet time brought about a magical encounter? No. Had it maybe made me more perceptive and aware going through my day, looking for God's goodness instead of focusing on a corrupt and stubborn state government? Yes.

I don't pretend to think this is a fear that I will never deal with again. I know better. But I also know He has the power to reassure and remind me of promises through the prompting of the Holy Spirit. And that is a beautiful thing.

"For I know whom I have believed
And am persuaded that He is able
To keep that which I've committed
Unto Him against that day."

Daniel Whittle

Counter Clutter

I have always been drawn to IKEA ads and Real Simple magazine shots. It isn't necessarily the modern appliances or style of the cabinetry that draws me in; rather, it's the clean counters. When I say clean counters, I mean a long surface area devoid of any hint of a toaster or pile of science worksheets. There are no rotten bananas in sight, lingering on as the resident baker is sure that he/she will get around to banana bread before the telltale flies show up. There isn't any wood putty, socks or a lone hairbrush sitting out. That clean straight line hints at a life that is being well managed, a good job that pays a cleaning lady to dust the empty counter, a life full of neat and orderly habits of organization.

I took a picture of my counter this morning. Normally, I find that when my counter gets cluttered that I begin to feel frustrated. But today as I sipped my way through the first cup of coffee, I looked at what was really there.

The photo of my kitchen counter can become a lot like a page from a book of "I Spy":

I spy a science worksheet, a battery, a colonial scene with pumpkins, a derby car,
Wood putty, a Lego creation and green marbles that roll far.

Sam's in sixth grade this year and I wonder how much longer I'll hear the waterfall sound of Legos being dumped and sorted on his floor. Once dumped, they need to stay out a few days so that the sorting and hunting isn't in vain. When I tucked him in last night and howled as my foot came down on a pile of Legos, he quickly assured me that he had cleared a path. It was a bit narrow, but yes, a path was there. There is an awareness in my parenting that time is moving more swiftly. How much longer will he let me tuck him in? How much longer will the path be made from cleared Legos?

Emily's art supplies and derby car add to the hodgepodge as well as her lunch bag. She is my sack lunch girl and I like packing her lunch in the mornings. I enjoy the sense of connection to her day when I do that -- even though the contents wouldn't earn a star from the health educators at Sarah Bush.

Brenna's yearbook and string only rest on the counter briefly and can't make the shot. They are too needed to lie on a surface for very long.

A friend said to me today, "We need to see and embrace the beauty around us." Things have felt rather dark lately and my spirit has felt heavy, but her words are true. My counter reminds me that there is beauty around me. In addition to the beauty that exists, we have the honor and challenge to create beauty to add to it all.

It isn't mine

I used to avoid fostering friendships with other moms of kiddos with special needs. Support groups were depressing. I didn't really want to fixate on what she couldn't do or wouldn't have. I wanted to be a glass half-full kind of girl-- to only see the good, the giftedness and embrace it. Now that she is 14, I find myself treasuring the friendships that allow me to voice to hard stuff. Because quite frankly, the teen years are difficult for most everyone, but autism has ramped up the parenting game to a level I wasn't prepared for. Most recently, it was the onset of Homecoming in the Facebook world.

The window was cracked open, allowing me to hear the steady squeak of her swing as I sat down at the computer. My breath caught as I scrolled through photos of girls the same age as my own, dressed in sequined dresses, a handsome young man standing next to them, a corsage on the wrist. I took a deep breath and exhaled. "This isn't mine and that's okay."

These girls are not mine. The slumber parties, beginnings of crushes, late night texts and Homecoming dances are not in my world. And if I look at the pictures too many times, allow myself to wonder why, and begin to focus in on that small point of longing it will go somewhere ugly.

It is critical that I embrace what is mine. What is it? Continued excitement to visit the pumpkin patch, afternoons spent on a swing, belly laughs and witty comebacks-- these are all mine. If I don't value this, if I choose to look past it to the larger group of what appears to be normal, I am missing it all. I am missing who she truly is.

Lately there has been renewed interest in Rosemary Kennedy and the failed lobotomy. At the heart of it all, I think her father couldn't embrace what was truly his. Deep down, I believe that his longing was so intense, so acute that he couldn't ignore it, had to pursue it. Because what if a surgery could restore what he felt was rightfully his? His normal child? A normal life? An eventual empty nest?  In his quest to fix what he thought was broken, he missed who his daughter truly was.

It's too easy and casual to write his decision for Rosemary off as cruel and uneducated, though the adjectives are fitting. But I've tried to force my child into normal activities, especially in the early years, when I thought it might help her, gain her friendships, hone social skills, help us to branch out. I've driven my child to tears by hosting a birthday party she did not want, singing to her despite tears and then finally moving the party outside so that we could watch her eat Cheetos on the slide in the backyard. Nine months pregnant and burdened with guilt, of course throwing a big party seemed like the obvious good mom move. In truth? It was an attempt at lobotomy--- grasping for the appearance of normal for my sake and not her own. Another picture for a voyeuristic scrapbook with pictures and captions that I could control. The things in life that keep me from the doomed lobotomy-like parenting behaviors and choices are the quiet whispers of God's voice and the faithful friends he provides.

While Homecoming isn't mine this year, an appreciation for these deepening friendships has developed. To be understood and heard is to snuggle under a faithful quilt and pull it tight. The seams won't rip from the stress and the distinctive pattern isn't out of place or looked at with pity or confusion.