tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32830006600630588502024-03-07T02:55:49.515-06:00Rachel's Blatheringsa container for the chaos in my headRaehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04025241488328089376noreply@blogger.comBlogger515125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283000660063058850.post-83777953266857858602014-10-08T22:12:00.002-05:002014-10-08T22:12:40.718-05:00Into the Deeper<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">8 October 2014</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Well, it's been a Really. Long. Time since I last posted. But the blogging juices are flowing and I have something I want to share. So, here I am.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This story started last winter. With the song <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eLqTZ07ja7g">Oceans</a>. I was a little late getting on the fan wagon for this song. No particular reason. I just didn't immediately identify with it. Then came the day I simply couldn't sing it. Specifically the bridge. I'm sure you already know it, but it says, "<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 19.6000003814697px;">Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 19.6000003814697px;">Let me walk upon the waters </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 19.6000003814697px;">Wherever You would call me. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 19.6000003814697px;">Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 19.6000003814697px;">And my faith will be made stronger </span></i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 19.6000003814697px;"><i>In the presence of my Savior.</i>" The whole idea just scared me silent. I couldn't comprehend a place where my trust was unending. And I instinctively knew the road to such a place would be harrowing and expensive. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 19.6000003814697px;">I prayed about this reluctance and realized my fear was that the cost would be too great. I didn't have an idea of what exactly "deeper" meant for me, but I knew it would be costly. And, really, it wasn't so much the personal cost (although there was a huge "Idonwanna" in my soul about that too), but I feared that going deeper into God's will would mean suffering for my family. Personal suffering is one thing. Watching my children suffer--well, I just didn't think I could pay that kind of price. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="line-height: 19.6000003814697px;">After a month or two of struggling with this fear, I couldn't bear it any longer and I confessed my feelings to a beautiful older woman. She assured me that none of us can imagine a "trust without borders" and encouraged me to press in despite my fear. My anxiety was more about the not knowing than any particular reality. My life has been pretty sheltered and I have had comparatively few difficulties. But, I have seen the cost of following God in other people's lives. At that time, the plight of Saeed Abedini, the pastor imprisoned in Iran, was at the forefront. What if God's call cost <i>me</i> as dearly as it was costing Pastor Saeed and his family? "Idonwanna!" my toddler-escent soul cried. So, if I just didn't sing those words, if I just didn't ask God to take me deeper, to increase my faith and trust, then I could stay comfortable. Except, the intensity of this struggle between my desire to go there with Him and my desire to avoid the cost was anything but comfortable.</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="line-height: 19.6000003814697px;">Over the following weeks, my heart became braver. I reasoned that my fear was unfounded and that trying to predict the cost of following God into the deeper was folly. Whatever God directs me toward, His grace will cover and support. Yes, there will be a cost, but God Himself will supply what is needed. I began to cautiously dip my toes into the ocean, and yes, I even dared to sing the bridge. </span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="line-height: 19.6000003814697px;">In March, I attended a women's retreat with my church ladies. I really don't remember what the theme was supposed to be, but this struggle was definitely a theme for me. The funny thing was that I wasn't really seeking God about what He might be wanting me to do. I kinda just wanted to feel brave and big and courageous, in general. Silly girl. </span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="line-height: 19.6000003814697px;">Fortunately, my Father knows better. The week or two before the retreat, I was touched by an article about foster care. And then I saw something on tv about fostering. And, then there was something else about foster care. Well, you know, that's not all that remarkable since I am part of the adoption community and several of my friends and acquaintances are currently fostering. But, during the retreat, it just became clear to me that this was the "deeper" God was drawing me to at this time. The possible costs to myself and my family became clear to me once the call became clear. And, suddenly, they weren't so scary--still scary, but not <i>sooooo</i> scary.</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="line-height: 19.6000003814697px;">When I returned home, I talked this over with Aa. I was concerned that he wouldn't be on the same page and now that I'd had a break-through, I'd have to wait for God to catch him up to act on it. That's often the way, isn't it?! But, to my surprise he said, "Okay. Well, I always thought we'd foster someday; you're just moving up the timeline." Oh. Not what I expected, but good! </span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="line-height: 19.6000003814697px;">We agreed that I would gather information. A few weeks later there was an informational meeting at the Department of Health and Welfare for people interested in fostering and/or adopting through the state. I was again surprised when Aa agreed that we should go as soon as possible, even though these meetings occur every month. </span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="line-height: 19.6000003814697px;">After the meeting, I asked Aa how he felt about proceeding with the next steps of the process. He said, with tears in his eyes, "I think we should do it. It's important. It matters." So, we began filling out paperwork and feeling out the kiddinkidinks. Pea (now 9 years old) was sweet and excited about having a little baby in the house again. Punk (now 10) was the one I was worried about. As the oldest, he's always had an air about him that says, "Everything was great when I had these two parents to myself and then these other kids came along..." He's also the one for whom quality one-on-one time means the most. So, I surprised when he said, "Hmm. Yes, I think we'd be the perfect family to do that. I mean, we kinda did that for Pea and Pup already. They needed us to be their family forever, but if some kids only need us a little while, we should help them too." Right on, buddy. Right. On. So I asked how he would feel when the foster babies went back to their first families. He thoughtfully replied, "Well, I'd be sad and happy." Imagining his reasoning to be selfish (happy because "I'll get my life back" or whatever), I asked him to explain. "Because! It will be sad to say goodbye, but then we'd get to meet and help another baby!" Wow. One of those rare moments when you get to feel like you did a smidgen of this parenting thing pretty well!</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="line-height: 19.6000003814697px;">So, last month we completed our pre-service training and now we're waiting to begin our 8,000th home study. I'm still not sure what the timeline looks like, but I'm hoping we are licensed by the beginning of 2015. We don't have all the details (mainly the age range--definitely at least year younger than Pup, and probably just 12 mo and under) nailed down yet, but we've begun collecting some of the baby gear we'll need (of course, we'd already given away all Pup's stuff!). </span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="line-height: 19.6000003814697px;">As for the fear, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is a costly venture. I know I'll be laying down even more of my selfishness, more of my judgements, more of my self-consciousness, more of my <i>self</i>. I know there will be sorrow. I know there will be pain. I know there will be darkness and disappointment and disillusionment. And not just for me, but for my family too. But, I also know there will be even more faith, even more trust, even more love, even more joy, even more family, even more friends, even more interdependence, even more depth, even more character, even more beauty, even more victory. And, I know--I mean I KNOW that it will be worth it. It's important. It matters. So much more than it will cost.</span></span></span></span>Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04025241488328089376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283000660063058850.post-12361475657728401982012-05-24T14:52:00.001-05:002012-05-24T14:52:27.834-05:00On the Shelf24 May 2012<br />
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There probably isn't anyone ridiculously faithful enough to me to still be reading this poor neglected blog, but that's okay. I really started it for me and my kids anyway, and if it has returned to that, I'm not ashamed. This particular post, however, is one I feel should be read by more than the people who inhabit my house. I really do hope it makes its way to other moms who feel "on the shelf."<br />
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When I married Aa, we agreed that we wanted our children to be close in age to one another. Each of us has a much younger (8 years) sibling and we wanted our kids to experience the friendship of near-in-age sibs. That was plan. And, for a short time, while we were in the process of adopting Pea and another little boy from Liberia, it looked like we'd have three kids spaced exactly a year apart. No kidding--their birthdays are July 2003, July 2004, and July 2005! Well, it didn't work out that way and only Pea joined the family. If you've read the backlogs, or know us well, you know that left an open space in our family that we greatly desired to be filled. Well, it took much longer than we anticipated, but Pup finally joined the fam. While there aren't 8 years between him and his sibs, it's close to that amount of separation.<br />
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Another advantage of having closely spaced children is that they are all in relatively the same developmental stage. Punk and Pea are peers, but Pup completely changed the family dynamic. My role as Mama changed dramatically when Pup came home to us over a year ago. Before Pup, I had regained a measure of the independence I had pre-kids. With the bigs in school (and pre-school before that), I was resurfacing as a contributing member of the society outside my home. But, the arrival of Pup (much anticipated and much celebrated) thrust me back into a place of limited daily freedom.<br />
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I don't want this to sound like a gripe session, because it really isn't that. I'm just trying to put to words the feeling of having a baby/toddler attached to my hip. While I absolutely adore this little child and don't want to miss out on any part of his little life, it<i> is </i>rather consuming to be his mother. I rarely go anywhere without him. My schedule revolves around him, as do most of my moment-by-moment, day-by-day choices. Most of the compliments I get are really about him. Many of the conversations I have are about him and/or my other kids. It's pervasive.<br />
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A few months ago, our local LifeLine Pregnancy Center put out a call for volunteers. I called to find out how I could help. Turns out, I would have to pay someone to hang out with Pup so I could volunteer my time. It just doesn't make sense at this season. But, it is experiences like that that were beginning to make me feel hemmed in.<br />
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And, not just hemmed in. I was also feeling useless, or, as I tend to think of it, "on the shelf." I know this is all just a season--one that will fly by very quickly--but it is a season where I feel stuck in the pantry, like that box of Panko I bought once. It had a purpose, a specific recipe I was making when I bought it. I used the Panko and then returned it to the shelf. I've never used it again. I see it there in the pantry from time to time and think, "Oh, I should do something with that." But, I never do. Poor little box of Panko on the shelf. And this season of consuming mothering feels like that to me--waiting, wanting to make a contribution, to be a part of something bigger than myself, bigger than my four walls, but being stuck here, unused, unimportant, unwanted.<br />
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Okay, so I know those three "uns" aren't really, really true, but my day-to-day experience started out whispering and wound up shouting those words to my heart. So, one day, an email appeared on my screen inviting me to take a class at church about spiritual gifts. It seemed kind of urgent at this point, so I signed on, hoping that this class could somehow revive my self-concept and breathe God's life back into me while simultaneously helping find the direction I was desperately seeking to express myself and be of some use to the Kingdom.<br />
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One requirement of the class was to take a "spiritual gifts inventory" (<a href="http://buildingchurch.net/g2s.htm">here</a> if you're interested) and identify your top three areas of gifting. I have taken such a "test" before (more than once), but it had been a long time, definitely as long as I've been a mother, probably longer. I admit, I hold a bit of cynicism about these things (I think it's easy to "trick" the test and make it tell you you are what you want to be) and prefer to have a person tell me what they see in me. But, being a first-born rule-abider, I did it anyway. I was somewhat surprised by the results. My top three (in order from highest) were Giving, Mercy, and Teaching. Teaching has always been in the mix, from the very first time I took one of these tests when I was a mere church-goer but not yet in a relationship with Jesus. The other two were new to the top.<br />
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At first, the fact that Giving was the top confirmed my fears. I was living vicariously through my husband, the embodiment of generosity. Sigh. I'm no longer a contributing member of society or the Kingdom. I'm just my husband's shadow.<br />
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Mercy showing up there was interesting to me, though. I don't normally think of myself in that way. I tend to be emotional, yes, but practical. Empathetic, but not tolerant of stupidity. As I said, Teaching wasn't a surprise, but I haven't had much opportunity to practice or utilize it and don't see much opportunity on the horizon.<br />
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Mother's Day was just a few days after I took the test. My adoption journey has opened my mind to all the kinds of mothers that exist in this world and the many ways they've been hurt in their journeys. In the days leading up to this holiday, I prayed for the women I know who want to be mothers but haven't conceived yet, for those who are mothers, but aren't raising their babies, for those who have lost babies before they ever held them in their arms, and others. Looking back, these were definitely prayers of compassion and mercy. In addition, I sent a little reminder to my pastoral staff to consider these wounds when celebrating the mothers in our congregation on Sunday. Fortunately, our pastors are very humble and value the gifts of the body. They took this exhortation and through it, a young woman and her mother were deeply touched by God. And that's just one testimony that got back to us. I'm confident that God touched others that morning as a result of my prayers leading up to that day. When I heard this testimony a few days into the week, I wept. Because God had so sweetly touched a woman. Because He had so clearly, pointedly answered my prayers. Because He used ME to be a part of this testimony. Because He confirmed outstandingly that not only had He gifted me with mercy, but even more than that, He was using this gift in me to change people, to affect His Kingdom! In fact, He just smashed those three "uns"--He confirmed that I am useful, wanted, and important. It was a sweet, sweet kiss from Him to me.<br />
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But, still, it niggled at me that giving was high on my list. Last night was the last class. When it was over, I took one of the instructors, a friend of mine, and the pastor's wife (all one woman!) aside and confessed that it was still bothering me that giving had jumped to the top of my list just because I happen to be married to a giver! She understood and admitted that her gifts have shifted over time as well, lining up better with her husband's. As we spoke, it occurred to me that God really NEEDED to make me a giver. He NEEDED to give me that particular gift if He was going to use Aa in that way. I mean, if Aa is high in Administration, what is that to me? If he's high in helps, how does that affect me? But, if Aa is going to be a generous giver, I had better be on board! How can Aa freely and easily move in his gifting of generosity unless I love giving too? And I do! It's so fun to be able to fund the great things happening around the world.<br />
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I also told my friend that I don't really have an outlet for my teaching gift. She said, "Oh yes you do! I see that all over you! In your writing!" Oh. (face-palm) So, apparently, I'm not quite so shadowy and on-the-shelf as I thought. I'm just a little blind. : )<br />
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If you're feeling on-the-shelf, I would love to pray for you. You can leave me a comment or shoot me an email (see the column on the right). I hope this helps encourage you that you really aren't stuck in the pantry either, you probably just aren't seeing how God has you mixed into His recipes. : )Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04025241488328089376noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283000660063058850.post-67894325921114921372011-10-11T15:29:00.003-05:002011-10-11T15:37:51.550-05:00Dreams of Home11 October 2011<br /><br />Wow. Every time I post here I feel I have to apologize for being away so long. But, you know, it's just so much easier to pop a couple sentences on facebook than to blog several paragraphs here. <br /><br />Well, here's the quick update: Aa just returned from nearly 2 weeks in UG. He had an amazing time there, and we didn't do too bad here ourselves. Even though the bigs' 3-week fall break coincided with Aa's trip. Thankfully, my mom retired this year and was able to be here the whole time Aa wasn't. Otherwise, I might have pulled all my hair out.<br /><br />This is the last week of the bigs' break and they are doing okay at finding ways to entertain themselves, even though it's been rainy out. This morning, Punk started one of his lists. This one is all about his future home. I had to share it here, spelling preserved (he did ask about a few words).<br /><br />Home<br />1 Log cabin<br />2 tvs<br />2 wiis<br />1 snakeskin carpet<br />1 bear skin carpet<br />2 laptops<br />1 desk with scientist stuff on it<br />10 frames with snake on it<br />1 snake skin curtin<br />3 cats<br />2 dogs<br />1 small bed<br />2 cunfy chairs<br />1 soafa<br />walls painted green, red, blue<br />floors are bamboo<br />ferrari<br />river<br />5 fish<br />2 globes<br />1 hot tub<br />a picture of mom dad sister brother<br />laser guns surounding house<br />pretend fruit<br />camras outside<br />satalight dish<br />securaty (security) room<br /><br />Job (second list)<br />working for the presadent as a scientist<br />invenchins (he hasn't gotten these written down yet)<br /><br />I just thought we'd all have fun looking through these lists again in a few years...or 50. :)Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04025241488328089376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283000660063058850.post-25551768617416822032011-08-19T09:20:00.004-05:002011-08-19T09:59:13.531-05:00Send Aa to UG and Teach Your Kids About Money at the Same Time!19 Aug 2011
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<br />Hey there, blogosphere! It's my birthday! Yay! 35!
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<br />But, better than that, there's only about one month left until Aa leaves for Uganda! I'm sooooooo very excited for him to get to experience some of what I experienced 18 months ago. The sweet, sweet people are life-changers!
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<br />To help finance his trip, Aa has made a brand-new design for a money box/bank like we use with our kids (he made theirs too, but this new design is really great!). It's up for auction on <a href="http://www.ebay.com/itm/280726259443?ssPageName=STRK:MESELX:IT&_trksid=p3984.m1555.l2649">Ebay</a> and all the money he makes from it will be put toward his trip fees. The great thing about this bank is that it has three "wells" for the money to go in. The wells are marked (on the lid) share (for donations/tithes), save (to deposit in the bank or other investments at your convenience), and spend (to be used on desires). You can use this tool to discuss the different ways of using money, how to budget, how to be generous, and to pass on your values concerning money with your kids.
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<br />We have worked out what we feel is a good system for using this tool. We want to give our kids as realistic a perspective as possible to prepare them for adulthood. I hope this description of what we do will help you determine what will work well for your family.
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<br />We give our kids a salary (going to school is their "job") each week; they do not get an allowance for doing household chores because that is just part of being a family. They receive their salary<span style="display: block;" id="formatbar_Buttons"></span> in dimes so that they can easily divide it up into the different uses. We require that some goes in each well each week. They decide what to spend their spend money on and set long-term goals for their savings. They also decide where and when to contribute their give money. Each school year they get a raise and when grades become more meaningful, they will get "performance bonuses" based on their achievements at school. So far, this method has worked really well for our now 6 and 7 year olds.
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<br />So, please go to <a href="http://www.ebay.com/itm/280726259443?ssPageName=STRK:MESELX:IT&_trksid=p3984.m1555.l2649">Ebay</a> now and bid on the great tool for a great cause! Thanks!
<br />Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04025241488328089376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283000660063058850.post-2140872337897156342011-08-09T09:09:00.003-05:002011-08-10T08:01:17.890-05:00Visit with AB9 August 2011
<br /><p class="MsoNormal">After church on Sunday, Pup and I drove down to GA to meet with AB for our 6 month visit. Lucky for me, Pup slept most of the way and traveled very<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKiNlw52QPDDb0dgYPxfRsOtqScX951L7ofa462N8vN6l60X-UFHjR-Q0WRl1Kmji7tbQRv2D-z6gNlMXSE7fq1K7WxRZuF9BOEv9J565HroHQYB1nR4F-6gFWFL5YTD3l8WXtSLAh2gw/s1600/ashtray.jpg">
<br /></a> well. He's such a good baby!
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<br />Always looking to save money where possible, I had booked us in a cheapy motel. It was only for one night--how bad could it be, right? Bwahahahaha!
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<br />When checking in, I asked for a non-smoking room on the first floor. I also requested a baby bed or crib. No problem. Room 116 in the back, first floor. As I drove around to the back of the building, I noticed first that the room was on the corner, so no neighbors on one side at least. Very nice. When I opened the door (which had a no-smoking placard on it) wafts of stale smoke smell undulated over me and Pup. Ug.
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<br />I dropped the diaper bag on the floor, tossed Pup on the bed, and heaved my overnight bag (half-full of empty bottles) onto the table. Then I burst into a fit of ironic giggles. I'd shoved this (see photo below) out of the way of the suitcase!
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJpsSfT4DJ8mdp9hcQgTB5O212sCdqOSk2ydrUXZQwd9lsEKt-xl_cFVoYe3UTdECwusJHJgWrHDsGU3qTFv5ele3WaC_cP0R_6hrSo_sW1lp0OLqhGCgcv5HuZo4HmaYF9gKnPZPS5Bs/s1600/ashtray.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJpsSfT4DJ8mdp9hcQgTB5O212sCdqOSk2ydrUXZQwd9lsEKt-xl_cFVoYe3UTdECwusJHJgWrHDsGU3qTFv5ele3WaC_cP0R_6hrSo_sW1lp0OLqhGCgcv5HuZo4HmaYF9gKnPZPS5Bs/s400/ashtray.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639210452281138178" border="0" /></a>
<br />A few minutes later the "host" from the front desk knocked. He rattled on about another guest with a similar surname and city name who had also requested a crib. "But, that is not you, right? Just to be clear: I need to get two cribs, right?" Uh, yeah. Seems that way.
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<br />Before long there was another knock at the door and he was back (with a man who could have been his father?) with a collapsible crib from, oh, say, 7 decades ago? It was fully assembled, with two adult pillows, two full-size sheets and a full-size mattress pad (which he referred to as a blanket) heaped inside. After they had left, I stared at the crib with it's fold-down legs all askew and it's generally rickety appearance, wondering whether it would withstand the 21.5 lbs of baby I would place within it in a few hours.
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjs9kEL2oONoYlTAbXHTjQLW7ZFXiBlJVdP1Dt_fk1oTwfUwhBERoCwYCGPoPLdAXRT57fSYfNi-q3RJiMrPAxcMA5-8AQYK0skG3pieZFrrsk9QWW22Qg0lIM47LrSx6hiY3zinpH0YY/s1600/crib.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjs9kEL2oONoYlTAbXHTjQLW7ZFXiBlJVdP1Dt_fk1oTwfUwhBERoCwYCGPoPLdAXRT57fSYfNi-q3RJiMrPAxcMA5-8AQYK0skG3pieZFrrsk9QWW22Qg0lIM47LrSx6hiY3zinpH0YY/s400/crib.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639209212707938866" border="0" /></a>
<br />After feeding Pup, we went to Olive Garden for soup, salad and breadsticks. We were seated with older couples all around us. Which could have spelled disaster. But actually proved to be entertaining--for all of us! Pup got his accustomed level of attention and the other customers were delighted with his cuteness. :) Before we left, I asked for a little sumthin-sumthin for later and we headed back to our humble abode away from home for the night.
<br />
<br />After Pup went to sleep, I watched plenty of Food Network and HGTV (we don't have cable at home), painted my toenails (boy did they need it!) and consumed my little bit of luxury.
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE3nwhsWy0ee0wydV47JrZwV5MkhC1FcJAFisV3MqTOjvKnZBrn3qdTGPd-WC816Q0vRJEsWUT6G2ShhdTJTKqWyZ3xc_prihmOZ4S40Z9Ghy8XhH4-5nW-0O0TQ5pzRxUs8GXt8xEPRk/s1600/success.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE3nwhsWy0ee0wydV47JrZwV5MkhC1FcJAFisV3MqTOjvKnZBrn3qdTGPd-WC816Q0vRJEsWUT6G2ShhdTJTKqWyZ3xc_prihmOZ4S40Z9Ghy8XhH4-5nW-0O0TQ5pzRxUs8GXt8xEPRk/s400/success.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639209212881780994" border="0" /></a>
<br />Next morning, Pup and I had a leisurely waking period from 6-9. After checking out, we headed to the mall where we were to meet AB and our social worker. Fortunately, I found a little play area to hang out in because AB brought her daughter (M, Pup's half-sister) along this time. It was the first time I had met M and I was very pleased for the opportunity.
<br />
<br />M turned two in March. She is full of life and energy and is a happy little girl. She seems older than two as she is big, articulate, and socially mature. I would have pegged her as a pre-schooler had I not known better.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>She was comfortable with me and let me hold her and talk to her right away.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Like most toddlers, she was enthralled with the baby and gave him lots of hugs and kisses.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">AB and I chatted about mundane things while she held and played with Pup.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>M had a great time playing independently, especially on the tiny slide.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The only problem was that she was wearing a sweet dress and her little legs kept sticking to the slide!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUpWj8ueVjE_yQ1K1RTu5GzIfaU5TqCn6w3vJ-JarHfOlWpjRDnAXLYAO4l1C2md3oWO4KOhf1x5hl5tV28-2jIr6W387c1IAUwnhRg_0KyrvarVPSh3r3GrwWX2b0uZQcngOTI0Kugqs/s1600/DSC04521_edited.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUpWj8ueVjE_yQ1K1RTu5GzIfaU5TqCn6w3vJ-JarHfOlWpjRDnAXLYAO4l1C2md3oWO4KOhf1x5hl5tV28-2jIr6W387c1IAUwnhRg_0KyrvarVPSh3r3GrwWX2b0uZQcngOTI0Kugqs/s400/DSC04521_edited.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639209205982211106" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal">After a while, we headed to the food court for lunch.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>After we’d eaten, our social worker slipped away for a moment.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I had prayed before our last meeting and felt like God spoke to me that AB might be afraid that she was a disappointment to me/us/Pup.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I couldn’t work it into the conversation last time, but when I prayed about this meeting, the same word “disappointment” came up.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>So, I felt I should address it.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>When we were alone together (with the kids), it seemed like a good moment.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>So, I leaned toward AB and asked, “Can I go deep with you for just one moment?”<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>She looked nervous, but gave me the go-ahead.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I asked whether she was afraid that she was or would disappoint us.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>She said, “Yeah, I guess, a little” in a way that told me it was really more than just a little.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>So, I took the opportunity to pour love and acceptance on her.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I told her that she is not at all a disappointment to me!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>That I love her, that she is a shining, beautiful delight to me.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I affirmed that she is the redeemed of the Lord, precious to Him, clothed by Him in a queenly robe—and that if He sees her that way, who am I to disagree?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="font-family:Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-char-type:symbol;mso-symbol-font-family:Wingdings;" ><span style="mso-char-type:symbol;mso-symbol-font-family:Wingdings;" >J</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I told her that no matter what she does, her behavior and choices don’t define her—Jesus does.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And I agree with Him—she is utterly a delight to me and I am so glad she is part of my life.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">She cried a bit and didn’t have much to say in response.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Which I anticipated.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The kids made an easy transition from the deep back to our normal surface level.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I plan to write out my feelings about this for her to keep.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Partly, because I express myself so much better in writing and partly because I want her to have it written down, in black and white, where she can read it and believe it whenever she wants or needs to.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The social worker returned and it was time to say good-bye.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Pup got lots more cuddles and kisses from AB and M. AB and I shared a good, life-giving embrace.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And we went off our separate ways.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Good-byes are always hard.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>This one was made a little easier because I was glad I had said what I wanted to say and had imparted my heart and my love to AB—and I even got to love a little on M.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But, it’ll be winter before we meet again.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Pup will be tottering around probably.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It’s sorrowful to think of all AB is missing in his life.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But, I’m so glad that she’s not missing it all, that she’s choosing to stay connected.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And, I hope that as she believes in my love and opinion of her that she will begin to open her heart more and more in return.</p><p class="MsoNormal">A friend of mine recently said, "So when you adopted Pup, you adopted AB too!" Yep. We did.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB2xxHddNKghaClLO5JU5EL9EKuQsPIj-82-eq3uD-JSm8REjTdI6P9xBHFe3ReTFdzAgBEBE5hlC4RPw7QKhIZRIklVRA1shEUgQE5cpv-NOMuMezlg8VNR1pviRMo3hhiRxfyI4MnaE/s1600/DSC04525_edited.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB2xxHddNKghaClLO5JU5EL9EKuQsPIj-82-eq3uD-JSm8REjTdI6P9xBHFe3ReTFdzAgBEBE5hlC4RPw7QKhIZRIklVRA1shEUgQE5cpv-NOMuMezlg8VNR1pviRMo3hhiRxfyI4MnaE/s400/DSC04525_edited.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639209205020307506" border="0" /></a></p>Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04025241488328089376noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283000660063058850.post-9877643066884008312011-07-27T14:59:00.003-05:002011-07-27T15:12:42.642-05:00Development Spurt?!27 July 2011<br /><br />We all know babies and kids go through growth spurts, but Pup seems to have entered a "development spurt." While my mom was here a couple weeks ago, she taught Pup to sit up. He's been doing baby crunches ever since I can remember, so I knew his core was pretty strong. Mom set him on the floor and made a tripod by spreading his feet as far as they would go and then resting his hands on the floor between them. He took to it right away. Of course.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoGikFDvu1NBNky-d2bXDLRx0pYv3NPeJjSjpuYkrj0DTlZeaWN1uOh6pdlanFWZF8-fYS82OzNKdw4PzKqL72YtqX-xP6WW8cgHZTDK_ddYFASSn8CPZf_TWT6Me7srVb8a5Bl7xlBks/s1600/DSC04493_edited.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoGikFDvu1NBNky-d2bXDLRx0pYv3NPeJjSjpuYkrj0DTlZeaWN1uOh6pdlanFWZF8-fYS82OzNKdw4PzKqL72YtqX-xP6WW8cgHZTDK_ddYFASSn8CPZf_TWT6Me7srVb8a5Bl7xlBks/s400/DSC04493_edited.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634127274837929330" border="0" /></a><br />Well, ever since then, he's been accumulating all kinds of tricks and accomplishments! He now seems able to roll over at will, can sit for a few minutes with his hands off the floor before he topples, and is fascinated with his tongue (sticking it out and making raspberries). Today when we got home from school, I set him (on his back) on the floor while I helped the bigs tackle their after-school responsibilities. When I came back to Pup, he had flipped to his belly and repeatedly drew his left knee up toward his left hip as if he was trying to start crawling!<br /><br />Uuuggh! I really, truly wish the first year of life could stretch over two years. It just goes by too fast. At Pup's 6 month appointment last week, the Dr. urged me to get going on solid foods. I just want to keep Pup a baby as long as I can. He just doesn't seem to want to cooperate! Sigh. I guess it's time to bite the bullet and plug all the sockets. Anyone seen any good deals on cabinet and drawer stops?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbkwrxq97vEyTak_ZvAwDYDI61qCGKFMArT8qEUmwCC5V2QyQlWEcsf2vLPDPxwpdWOeuBIjTSu0BSxnq-9XnV7hM8cFUgOesgf9chLUBqSN0TiB2JOhf1siRSnNOEmIN0wqHw5pVub8U/s1600/DSC04363_edited.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbkwrxq97vEyTak_ZvAwDYDI61qCGKFMArT8qEUmwCC5V2QyQlWEcsf2vLPDPxwpdWOeuBIjTSu0BSxnq-9XnV7hM8cFUgOesgf9chLUBqSN0TiB2JOhf1siRSnNOEmIN0wqHw5pVub8U/s400/DSC04363_edited.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634126759826006946" border="0" /></a>Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04025241488328089376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283000660063058850.post-41798185664938451142011-07-27T14:33:00.003-05:002011-07-27T14:57:52.451-05:00Reprogramming and Running Away27 July 2011<br /><br />The bigs attend year-round school, so they had 5 weeks in June and July off for their summer break. Three of those 5 weeks were filled with visits from the grandparents (first my parents for a week, then Aa's for 2). Our last visitors left on Monday morning. Needless to say, after all that spoiling by the gps and the relaxing of discipline by Aa and me, some reprogramming has been required this week! <br /><br />I gave myself a break on Monday and did nearly nothing regarding housework and child-training. But, Tuesday was a new day and a return to routine and our typical standards of behavior. So, after about 5 weeks of doling out threats with nothing to back them up, I told the bigs Monday night that they'd used up all their warnings and that consequences would be swift on Tuesday.<br /><br />On the way home from school Tuesday, it was bicker, bicker, bicker. Of course. Part of our routine is that the kids do a few quick chores (pick up the mail, take out the dog, deal with lunch boxes and backpacks) and then have some blow-off-steam play time before we hit the homework. Well, they decided to rough-house and I could tell it was escalating, so I called it off and told them not to touch each other. So, Punk poked Pea. Of course. I sent him straight to his bed and told him I'd be there to talk to him in just a moment. After assuring myself that Pea wasn't also in need of discipline, I called Punk down from his upper bunk. He recalled that there were to be no warnings and we reviewed the meaning of obedience (you do what I say right away, all the way, and with a happy heart). He admitted that poking Pea didn't fit the bill. I told him I'd have to spank him once for his disobedience. I gave him one quick thwap. Being the drama king he is, he screamed bloody murder and leapt up into the air. He scurried to his closed bedroom door and flew out. Before I knew it, I heard the front door open and close. Hot on his heels, I got outside just after he did. He turned and scowled and yelled, "I'm running away!"<br /><br />Well, that was a first, so I had to think and act quickly. Without rushing, I caught him up and began to talk to him. <br />"Where are you going?"<br />"Hrmph. I don't know." Grumbled.<br />"Hmmm. Well, you didn't stop to get your shoes (compassionately). I bet your feet are going to start hurting."<br />"Hrmph."<br />"And, it is raining out here. You'll be getting awfully wet soon."<br />"So what." Angry.<br />"Why don't we go home where it's dry and cool. We can talk about this and come up with a plan."<br />"Hmf." Resigned?<br />I scooped him up and held his stiff, angry body close to me. I said gently, "You know, no matter where you go in this world, you will never, ever find anyone who loves you as much as Daddy and I do. And, your sister and brother are a close second." I couldn't believe my brilliance! I sounded like a movie script! And, what's even better--it worked! By the time we got inside the door, his attitude was changed and his arms were around my neck. His hands slid down my arms as I set him down, not wanting to break the connection. <br /><br />After 7 years of parenting this little boy who is cut from the same cloth I was, I feel I'm finally getting a handle on how to deal with his drama. It requires every ounce of strength I have to fight drama with kindness and quiet (instead of escalating the situation as I have in the past). Just like me, he just wants empathy and understanding. And love. It all comes back to love. When I remain calm and in control of myself, I can show him my love in a much more convincing way. And, when he knows I love him no matter what, all the other stuff falls away for him too. <br /><br />I was amazed that the rest of the afternoon and evening passed without another incident. Five weeks worth of unprogramming reversed with one spank and kindly whispered words of love? Unbelievable, but true!Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04025241488328089376noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283000660063058850.post-5145205839620846602011-06-25T16:44:00.003-05:002011-06-26T15:36:13.049-05:00So You Think You Should Adopt? 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unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Subtle Reference"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="32" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Intense Reference"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="33" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Book Title"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="37" name="Bibliography"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" qformat="true" name="TOC Heading"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} </style> <![endif]-->25 June 2011<p class="MsoNormal">I’m a huge advocate for adoption.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I love it.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It is an absolutely miraculous way to create or expand a family.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I am extremely passionate about adoption and desire to help those on the adoption pathway in any way I can.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Because of that passion and because we have adopted twice (once internationally, once domestically) and because I worked for an agency for a short time, I often find myself being asked for advice on the topic.<span style=""> Just the other day, a friend messaged me to ask specifically about motivation to adopt. The topic really got my juices bubbling and I want to share more publicly what I said to him.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"></span>It seems to me that interest in adoption is growing and while that makes my heart glow with hope, it also creates a hitch in my spirit.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Since joining the adoption community in 2005, I have seen many happy families created or grown; I have born witness to many successful adoptions.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"></span> But, I have also seen a discouraging number of failed adoptions.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Most of us heard about the child whose mother sent him back to Russia alone last year (<a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/36322282/ns/world_news-europe/t/boy-sent-back-russia-adoption-ban-urged/">http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/36322282/ns/world_news-europe/t/boy-sent-back-russia-adoption-ban-urged/</a>).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>This news was shocking and horrifying.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But it isn’t the only story of its kind.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>When I worked with the agency, I saw two children returned to their birth country under similar circumstances.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And, I have heard of many, many more failed adoptions through the grapevine over the years.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It’s tremendously disheartening to think of the emotional trauma created for children and families who find themselves in these positions.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I understand that the families feel there is no other option available to them and I recognize they experience their own emotional carnage related to their adoption disruptions.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And, even some parents with right motivations, good preparation, and lots of support can have trouble in their adoptions.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But, I believe that at least some of these situations are preventable.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">In the past, people adopted because they wanted to become parents.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Almost all adoptive parents experienced infertility or secondary infertility.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They simply wanted children (or more children) in their home, had the resources to raise them, and the compunction that children could be “our own” without coming from our bodies.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">In recent years, adoption has begun to come to the forefront of the American Christian psyche.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>There is, in fact, a Christian adoption movement.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And, a lot of good is coming from that (although I agree with them that there is much ground yet to be won).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>People are realizing that adoption is a positive (albeit challenging) way to grow a family.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>However, many well-intentioned people, stirred by the Bible’s clear injunctions to care for widows and orphans (Ex. 22:22, Deut. 10:18, 14:29, 24:17, PS 68:5, 82:3, Isa. 1:17,Jer 22:3, Zec 7:10) and Jesus’ plain instruction on caring for “the least of these” (Mat. 25:40,45), and taking a cue from our Heavenly Father’s spiritual adoption of each of us, consider adoption as the best way to obey these commands.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I believe that is flat-out wrong. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>This “rescue-the-children” mentality is at the root of many adoptive parents’ dissatisfaction with their adoption experience as well as the fundamental reason some adoptions fail.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">This rescue mentality can seem to blind people from their usual common sense. People seem to think that somehow an adoptable child is inherently good and, given the right environment, he will quickly and totally recover from his early trauma. But, these same parents, if they knew the next door neighbor kid had been involved in a gang even if only for survival, or had been sexually abused and learned to become an abuser herself, had learned to steal and horde to have food—would they bring that child over for a slumber party, let alone to be a permanent part of the family and share a room with their perfectly sheltered toddler? The reality is that many kids who have a less-than-ideal foundation (from malnourishment to neglect to abuse of any kind) can make great strides in their new families, but it isn’t instantaneous or even easy. Recovery for the child may demand an exceptionally high degree of commitment, advocacy, patience, selflessness, and persistence from the parent(s).<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Another problem for parents who want to be a child’s savior is that adopted kids rarely feel much gratitude toward the family that has “rescued” them.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>From the children’s perspective, the adoptive family has ripped them away from everything they’ve ever known, the place they truly belonged.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Far from appreciating all that the adoptive family can provide, the children are traumatized and grieved.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>These emotions and problems may surface immediately, or may develop over time, but at some point in an adoptive family’s life, they most likely will have to face this beast head-on.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Adoption is far from ideal and adoptive parents who set themselves up as some kind of rescuing hero are setting themselves up for a fall.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Unfortunately, many blame the children for the tumble from their pedestal, with tragic results.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">This desire to rescue children from poverty can have devastating effects that reach far beyond the adoptive family.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Not long ago there was a surge of people wanting to rescue impoverished kids in Guatemala. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Rather than saving a generation of children, the situation ended up creating a black-market for healthy infants where babies were being stolen from loving mothers so they could be sold for adoption to well-meaning American couples (http://sites.google.com/site/internationaladoptionfacts/guatemala-adoption-u-s-adoptions-fueled-by-kidnappings).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>This, and similar situations, led to the closure of legitimate inter-country adoptions not only in Guatemala, but also in other countries which feared a similar fate for their children. Rarely is there a glut of healthy infants available internationally; even the poorest mothers want to breastfeed and care for their children as long as they can. If you're saying your primary motivation is to save a child’s life, but you only want a healthy infant (and you want to do it internationally so you don't have to deal with messy birth family issues) you have missed the point entirely.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I said above that these adoption failures could be prevented.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>If those who wish to adopt would take a serious look at their motivation, be honest with themselves before God and their spouses (where applicable), and take steps ensure their hearts are truly in the right place, it’s true—many of these sad stories would never occur.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">For Aa and me, we stumbled into adoption because of secondary infertility.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We conceived Punk easily when we wanted to, but we couldn’t get pregnant again (not for lack of trying!).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We started our adoption journey because we wanted another child in our family.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Honestly, we did like the idea that we were entering into a new understanding of the Father’s adoptive heart toward us and that we were obeying the Bible’s commands about orphans. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And, in the end, I do believe we saved Pea’s life.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>If she hadn’t been adopted, she would have died.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But, that wasn’t why we adopted her.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I think adoption is a lot like marriage—it’s a huge commitment, for better or worse, in sickness and health, for richer or poorer.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>You are binding yourself to another person whose history you only know in part and whose future you cannot predict.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>When you adopt a child, you are committing to love and treat them as though they had come from your own body, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">without any guarantees about how the relationship will go</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>One adoptive mother who struggled in her relationship with her adopted daughter put it this way: “Unless you can imagine loving and being committed to a child even if they would NEVER love you, don't adopt.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">If you are considering adoption because it seems like the right thing to do, because you want to save a child from poverty, because you want to be the best Christian you can be, because you want to be hero, PLEASE DON’T DO IT.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I cannot stress strongly enough the disaster that may ensue for you, your family, and the child(ren) you adopt if you enter into it for these reasons. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">These motivations are not wrong in themselves.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They are just not appropriate to adoption.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>As a Christian, you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">do</i> need to step up and defend the fatherless.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>You do need to extend yourself on behalf of the widow, orphan, and the least of the least.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>As James 1:27 puts it, “Pure and lasting religion in the sight of God our Father means that we <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">must</i> care for orphans and widows in their troubles.” (emphasis mine)<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It’s non-negotiable.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But, these commands do not require us to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">adopt</i>. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">There are many other ways to fulfill these injunctions.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>In fact, adoption is really only a band-aid solution in the first place.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It does nothing to address the needs of the birth family or the culture (domestic or foreign) into which the needy child was born.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Advocating on behalf of the poor and contributing to transformational ministries which lift people out of poverty are very effective ways to create real, lasting change.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Look into providing micro-loans for entrepreneurs in struggling economies.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Or, support and promote organizations like <a href="http://www.sportsoutreach.net/">Sports Outreach Ministries</a> which is transforming the lives of Uganda’s inner-city slum children as well as families in rural villages of Northern Uganda in both practical and spiritual ways. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Most of the world’s adoptable children aren’t orphans in the truest sense; most have at least one living parent.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They are adoptable because of poverty (this is true in the US and abroad).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The exception to this is AIDS orphans.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>You can make a real difference and save children’s lives by advocating for ARV treatments in Africa and India and other places hit hard by the disease.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Compassion, International has a stellar program for helping HIV+ mothers avoid transmission to their infants, as well as preventing infant mortality from other causes and helping the mothers live longer, stronger lives.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Find out more at <a href="http://www.compassion.com/help-babies.htm">http://www.compassion.com/help-babies.htm</a>.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Right here at home, you can make a real difference by backing ministries that support women in unplanned pregnancies (our local Lifeline is in dire need of diapers!) or mentoring an impoverished child.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>If you want an even more hands-on experience, apply for your foster-care license.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It’s absolutely free to get started and it’s not a life-long commitment like adoption is.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Many counties/states are desperate for solid, willing foster families.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">In short, I want to let you off the hook.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>You don’t have to adopt!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And, adopting doesn’t make you a hero or a better Christian.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>If you want to adopt for those reasons, please find an alternative.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>If you want to adopt because you desire to parent a child and are willing to face the challenges and difficulties that accompany adoption, I’ll be your biggest support!</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p>Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04025241488328089376noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283000660063058850.post-30167992304150400352011-05-29T20:37:00.004-05:002011-05-29T21:09:52.969-05:00TidbitsSince I'm not here so much any more, I thought I'd better jot down a few notes for posterity. And you guys.<br /><br /><ul><li>Punk is turning into a math genius. He's still a few months off of his 7th birthday, finishing up the first grade and doing simple division (12/4) in his head. Per Punk's request, Aa explained decimals to him this afternoon and he seemed to pick it right up. I wish math was so intuitive to me! What's the opposite of intuitive? Math! :)</li><li>Pup is growing like gangbusters! He had his 4 month check-up last week. He came in at 17.5 lbs and 27", which puts him in the 90th and 95th percentiles, respectively. He's pushing the boundaries of the 3-6 month clothes. Dunno what I'm going to do with all the cute fall/winter 12-18 mo stuff I bought on clearance!</li><li>Pea is doing really well with her locs. We tightened them a little while ago and I asked her if the experience was better or worse than having her whole head braided. She said it was soooooo much better. Good. Cuz you're stuck with it now, kid!</li><li>Aa shaved off his goatee. Now he and Pup are identical, except in coloring. It's uncanny. I'll have to snap a pic of them together.</li><li>Pup has rolled over twice now, days apart, both times while I was out of the room. He's started on rice cereal and avocados. He's not really sure about either of them, but he's very curious about the foods the rest of us are eating!</li><li>Pea has brought a total of 3 notes home from school--all letting us know she's been disciplined for acting silly/distracting during learning times. This is the little girl who loved preschool, but practically hid in her shell the whole time. Her teacher put it well when she said, "I'm so please to see Pea coming into her own, but now she needs to learn the boundaries." <br /></li><li>Pup continues to get attention everywhere we go. There is no such thing as a quick errand when he is in tow! <br /></li><li>Aa is still making boxes for donations for his trip to Uganda this fall. I'm considering a fund-raiser where I sell something like gift certificates for desserts. You buy the certificate now and cash it in when you want the cake/cupcakes/cheesecake/mousse. Maybe...</li><li>I got an iPhone today. And sent my first text. How many points does that earn me? :)</li><li>Aa is practically covered in poison ivy. He thinks he found the culprit in the yard. I'm surprised none of the children have gotten it. Aa says maybe they're all immune like me. What are the chances? Seriously!</li><li>Pup is sleeping pretty well now. Goes to bed around 9, gets up around 5, but is kept at bay with a paci (which I like to call his "sucker") until 6:15-6:30. When school gets out, Punk gets a roomie!</li><li>The restaurant we had lunch at today has one of those quarters-for-candy machines. Pea got Skittles. After eating a few, she asked me which is my favorite color. Then she bent over her handful and picked out all the orange ones and gave them to me. She is sweetness and generosity in little brown girl form.</li><li>I took sheaves of paperwork to the courthouse Friday to file for the finalization of Pup's adoption. But, when I got there, they told me "the adoption lady" wasn't in. I have to call Tuesday. Hope she can see me pronto because I need to get it filed this month or more paperwork ensues! Eeep!<br /></li></ul>Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04025241488328089376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283000660063058850.post-18236410155576651062011-05-04T18:01:00.005-05:002011-05-04T18:35:06.254-05:00Farewell, Fireplace! Hello, Baby Space!4 May 2011<br /><br />So, I know, I know, taking out a fireplace is a stupid idea from a re-sale perspective, but we didn't make this decision lightly. It was time for it to go. We never use it, never liked it. It took up valuable real estate in our slightly cramped living areas (we have big bedrooms, though!). And, most pointedly of late, it was a baby hazard. So out it came and, once again, we rearranged furniture, creating a spacious dining area (in the official dining room, of all places!), a formal living room/library, and a family room with the huge sectional another couch, my desk, and room for all the baby's "furniture" (jumperoo, activity gym, etc.).<br /><br />Now you see it... Well, sorta. This is the best--the only--"before" pic I could find with the fireplace in it. It's like a "Where's Waldo." If you haven't found it yet, look to the left behind all the stuff that's piled up there. That's actually a pretty accurate state of affairs.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEqRjpRWUdx5b8RVVgacRI5fhedWXE8CRrV_RBTD1yWuR2KsZjSj0MCbDVcB1X2ZoukcW7B1YueIwP6DtbQDZZs4cCela8ed8JY4vvs3oH9sUqJfQ57RgY67n1tDOKtXQcPiIl25aZDCk/s1600/before.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEqRjpRWUdx5b8RVVgacRI5fhedWXE8CRrV_RBTD1yWuR2KsZjSj0MCbDVcB1X2ZoukcW7B1YueIwP6DtbQDZZs4cCela8ed8JY4vvs3oH9sUqJfQ57RgY67n1tDOKtXQcPiIl25aZDCk/s400/before.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603007325904069954" border="0" /></a>Now you don't!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL5HAzc7yILqOD8fMqIWnV8RZp8YE8LJJ5Ln5j9EsyoAhII7xF_8Fm1hfjb7ouHe4anF-sOoh3JN1l5dt4ODO4-q-jjwNZldkvTttlfF_5TdYzwZQUKcEHcj6rVuSwZEv4-aQHtxgdvlY/s1600/1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL5HAzc7yILqOD8fMqIWnV8RZp8YE8LJJ5Ln5j9EsyoAhII7xF_8Fm1hfjb7ouHe4anF-sOoh3JN1l5dt4ODO4-q-jjwNZldkvTttlfF_5TdYzwZQUKcEHcj6rVuSwZEv4-aQHtxgdvlY/s400/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603005329328428018" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKYh0npczVMZ1WaH-erqFVvlGZDKd598qGZ4BAcVpcoKXiFmILUKyqP8MUVG4iJWG0Cq0lK590fpRF-3oq-Tc87fXyOPbGPIHLSjnHU4w3NUgJh9iQJGoYjqmMOqDqdgBu_vpJSRN0Odk/s1600/2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKYh0npczVMZ1WaH-erqFVvlGZDKd598qGZ4BAcVpcoKXiFmILUKyqP8MUVG4iJWG0Cq0lK590fpRF-3oq-Tc87fXyOPbGPIHLSjnHU4w3NUgJh9iQJGoYjqmMOqDqdgBu_vpJSRN0Odk/s400/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603005324085150210" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggpXP7Rb7w6kiVaDV16IVnHo9I9mm8R33jGTXKaGGsh2k6LfwIXsxD43JLg0sm6SBICP9TrafQ-lLhCTt09Yc8aZdzeuErCv9px1wTNI3QNM5mHPtkdlPdwPm0AKUHjdrAFuMkyfLmx4U/s1600/3.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggpXP7Rb7w6kiVaDV16IVnHo9I9mm8R33jGTXKaGGsh2k6LfwIXsxD43JLg0sm6SBICP9TrafQ-lLhCTt09Yc8aZdzeuErCv9px1wTNI3QNM5mHPtkdlPdwPm0AKUHjdrAFuMkyfLmx4U/s400/3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603005319125892690" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKwWSMNTbbYEejANzr83dIKZoqP0fMyu4NKi8YiimoepuTQiqQh7zsuhoioaR686ohyfxaasyKfxa3YlvnJcAMmmBTYNKBfkMeLWwOGRbTnPFM6iuae3CLYFfBE08fySeWc83Cvj35nA4/s1600/DSC04340.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKwWSMNTbbYEejANzr83dIKZoqP0fMyu4NKi8YiimoepuTQiqQh7zsuhoioaR686ohyfxaasyKfxa3YlvnJcAMmmBTYNKBfkMeLWwOGRbTnPFM6iuae3CLYFfBE08fySeWc83Cvj35nA4/s400/DSC04340.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603005314910266130" border="0" /></a>I took the last pic above at the end of the day when we had most of the furniture where we wanted it, but a lot of the clutter was still seeking it's new home. So, yeah, it looks a little better now. :)<br /><br />While Mama and Daddy were busy moving furniture and the bigs were busy playing outside, poor baby Pup was stuck safely away in his jumperoo. Apparently, we weren't watching the clock and worked right through naptime!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw2Rm9_zxOg3FvY2vaxYTPlVUWItIcvGM8n_O1y3EchiMPGFS_CnII1KLbGWbfI-cXJWYgDvLsNSyRavNZyP782PJwwu3fxlF9IVP98dueOpNLi0FeXBQfb4jIzIfrC0d4N54ww1UO7aQ/s1600/DSC04333.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw2Rm9_zxOg3FvY2vaxYTPlVUWItIcvGM8n_O1y3EchiMPGFS_CnII1KLbGWbfI-cXJWYgDvLsNSyRavNZyP782PJwwu3fxlF9IVP98dueOpNLi0FeXBQfb4jIzIfrC0d4N54ww1UO7aQ/s400/DSC04333.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603002944265643730" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKrJaNTreahqa-5qXztoV3j_3YtqYScXDhZcWPj0YUqJyXz2DIHrhBHQ32wyDaKByZdNVGF0MW874zsDbHqRb-06akn_izfHplc1jfIbqT_QM0GOfs9-aaPQOgGK6rBsQ06Q_wEZG21a8/s1600/DSC04335.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKrJaNTreahqa-5qXztoV3j_3YtqYScXDhZcWPj0YUqJyXz2DIHrhBHQ32wyDaKByZdNVGF0MW874zsDbHqRb-06akn_izfHplc1jfIbqT_QM0GOfs9-aaPQOgGK6rBsQ06Q_wEZG21a8/s400/DSC04335.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603002939232972434" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0V8FkYM-NUQ1LRbDPq2In60IcQAJ17O0kjwIcLJnCKdVKdXIrB2m1ZAZIBO2mP7l1fHMFN2yu6xI3TI5pFiE4zbwSGT2Q_cUhJhEQYv63vqViARcvssDbPdT-mpzfKUPuPUg6QJ08YSI/s1600/DSC04334.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0V8FkYM-NUQ1LRbDPq2In60IcQAJ17O0kjwIcLJnCKdVKdXIrB2m1ZAZIBO2mP7l1fHMFN2yu6xI3TI5pFiE4zbwSGT2Q_cUhJhEQYv63vqViARcvssDbPdT-mpzfKUPuPUg6QJ08YSI/s400/DSC04334.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603002932704844530" border="0" /></a>Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04025241488328089376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283000660063058850.post-54272674651981452372011-04-24T20:25:00.004-05:002011-04-24T20:40:45.643-05:00Projects Again24 April 2011<br /><br />I dunno what it is with us, but we seem to go from house project to house project. Only a baby seems to interrupt the flow. :)<br /><br />The latest target has been our useless fireplace. It was always in the way, never used, never wanted, and about to become a baby hazard. So, out it came! The bigs were thrilled with their superhero: Destructo-Dad! They thought it was so fun that Daddy was ripping into the wall, tearing off tiles. Baby Pup wasn't so sure about all the noise. And Dexter (our dog) really didn't know what to make of all the commotion.<br /><br />The bigs were very interested in helping with the project, so Aa let them help with the clean-up! They did a good job and certainly had fun with it!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7NX-dyAmH5o257n31F3ouISArMn9uNP0JGIs_4if3n9OxxQluyeSvTfoGRlCo_2THL6YCBKA2yAAeSHiyUWmV7xH3I6tEqFFIKfpHUbd7FfQiuyiljdGtpP-hA11Tc3eSN7qDUo8FErc/s1600/DSC04258.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7NX-dyAmH5o257n31F3ouISArMn9uNP0JGIs_4if3n9OxxQluyeSvTfoGRlCo_2THL6YCBKA2yAAeSHiyUWmV7xH3I6tEqFFIKfpHUbd7FfQiuyiljdGtpP-hA11Tc3eSN7qDUo8FErc/s400/DSC04258.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599329626307789602" border="0" /></a>So far, Aa was able to match the baseboard trim after 3 or 4 trips to the big box stores. He stuck the new drywall piece in, filled in the flooring where the tile hearth was (with only 4 inches of materials to spare!), and mudded up around the hole. The bigs are thrilled with their dad's destructive powers, but I am soooooo glad he has what it takes to put things back together better than before!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_YOqWWvpxa6LPPaX3M7H7ZznmWNbc-6N7RiDHo8Ntzyt2soVOHfpcMI-pr3asMhGwTsjYqq07YGXxRLIxlNkrN2_0HHC620iyhRUoKLiOUW883UNSy3NmdhyBjyx3hxCyUIu7s-JerBg/s1600/DSC04260.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_YOqWWvpxa6LPPaX3M7H7ZznmWNbc-6N7RiDHo8Ntzyt2soVOHfpcMI-pr3asMhGwTsjYqq07YGXxRLIxlNkrN2_0HHC620iyhRUoKLiOUW883UNSy3NmdhyBjyx3hxCyUIu7s-JerBg/s400/DSC04260.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599329619274484178" border="0" /></a>Of course, painting over the hole is the next step. Then the furniture will need to be rearranged (again). And, the kitchen and dining room are getting new paint--"front door red"!!! I'm excited about all the changes. Oh, and Aa says the gas line from the fireplace might get linked to a new gas cooktop maybe next year! Woohoo!Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04025241488328089376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283000660063058850.post-36693139517503009722011-04-24T20:15:00.006-05:002011-04-24T20:36:25.393-05:00Easter Scrapbook24 April 2011<br /><br />Being the far-away portion of the family has it's pros and cons. We can spend holidays in our jammies and avoid the stress of big, fancy, family dinners, but we don't get to have big, fancy, family dinners or enjoy the company of our larger family. With the new baby, everything seems to have been demoted to the "low-key" category and Easter is no different. I did bake a 10-lb ham Saturday night (with frozen veg and homemade bread) and we dyed 2 dozen eggs. The bigs had a quick hunt this morning, but the EB didn't even stop over with baskets and candy (they still have Halloween treats for Pete's sake!!!).<br /><br />What treats they did receive came from relatives from afar. Punk got some fun Lego sets and Pea's pony collection grew. They couldn't be happier with their new things. <br /><br />This sweet little outfit for Pup was one of the gifts from my brother and his fiancette. Isn't he darling in it? :) <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjahm7CL-sP22idcNLnm_7P3HNZUhb7kTcLc4WXYy1RqvZlu9nfV7iPky5DZWKQ0xwcR4kwnOe56WT7YfnUEyYY1FCwvrUwa02wdiyNpbYc5VpQf2s-GxMAqGO1Tkdaw8wWQ-4FquLU_d4/s1600/DSC04265_edited.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjahm7CL-sP22idcNLnm_7P3HNZUhb7kTcLc4WXYy1RqvZlu9nfV7iPky5DZWKQ0xwcR4kwnOe56WT7YfnUEyYY1FCwvrUwa02wdiyNpbYc5VpQf2s-GxMAqGO1Tkdaw8wWQ-4FquLU_d4/s400/DSC04265_edited.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599328204400065250" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCpOiXZ_mqHzNHzd7PbFKFvgwZwQnUEdHIYm7fngkfvtF8YkWgCLRh8CNCDO63_KBham7Y7M7V1QFWxQv0R-_FxVC6RHoOlXAyH8pemnhYNBKyIy-f3uj3P-QDXTBXUQrFLPoFMh5xNJ4/s1600/DSC04266_edited.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCpOiXZ_mqHzNHzd7PbFKFvgwZwQnUEdHIYm7fngkfvtF8YkWgCLRh8CNCDO63_KBham7Y7M7V1QFWxQv0R-_FxVC6RHoOlXAyH8pemnhYNBKyIy-f3uj3P-QDXTBXUQrFLPoFMh5xNJ4/s400/DSC04266_edited.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599328200115491426" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirle5hXP8yHSOOqCOr2p2tHLoGnrZivl1il-uRd4uv2sjiPRDWhZSXea8nS9iHSKyKAbh5GR4Ajb9QFxnHK3xIhsfYxtVaJzDyGyrpVoegddRjEsOTuDMMSyz9nd-aAU9vohCzkWIwBP8/s1600/DSC04267_edited.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirle5hXP8yHSOOqCOr2p2tHLoGnrZivl1il-uRd4uv2sjiPRDWhZSXea8nS9iHSKyKAbh5GR4Ajb9QFxnHK3xIhsfYxtVaJzDyGyrpVoegddRjEsOTuDMMSyz9nd-aAU9vohCzkWIwBP8/s400/DSC04267_edited.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599328194735643090" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtJHoJD3qaLBmtfvGoiZrCdvDId5QsIMxtxE_QH6lECdmY9LGhM4jBHq7_7Vg4_xMZNzavxJKOLk5f_JBi2aWa0kjXXMEL-vmztvDhSm7hE9QN8_MhBQ_c0V8eyPGDcNJjpWCMlavhanw/s1600/DSC04269_edited.JPG"><img style="display: block; 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margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja-LIAefVM6na61OobYWv_0-6BORJj9uYwQhVZnZmWcN46cs2EOoVxhcpqJo_BzIsZfRnNWRBt8oM4qHey14ILcjIb4hwcGUODGTmUSt1KB66X9f46Br3iwAFp2kYAfdt-TyepKzkTpto/s400/DSC04291_edited.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599324432359346802" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo0TA095OkMwp4DrKovviJ1BwYBFk0IXxMtoHZKKFOdMpGFs6q4U91B-lNUiXkwGzXGWJVbXw7z9wHnZx3KbplJ-WOst0SX1Shf1_mPuC8UeuMV-8UOm0-aJe8xapEhG6uS4QsiOB_NaY/s1600/DSC04292_edited.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo0TA095OkMwp4DrKovviJ1BwYBFk0IXxMtoHZKKFOdMpGFs6q4U91B-lNUiXkwGzXGWJVbXw7z9wHnZx3KbplJ-WOst0SX1Shf1_mPuC8UeuMV-8UOm0-aJe8xapEhG6uS4QsiOB_NaY/s400/DSC04292_edited.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599324429652579282" border="0" /></a>Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04025241488328089376noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283000660063058850.post-79757230363258131672011-04-09T12:46:00.005-05:002011-04-09T12:54:05.504-05:00Spring Has Sprung...9 April 2011<br /><br />...and so it is now time to introduce Pup to the timeless family (maternal side) tradition of pantslessness.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOoIZffFT5fQhNkuJtzjdwqqQWleGW5x_KwjXIZaYTXiRbMuBWFD8Js5CVcHrx1s_FhyAImycSuOcbsIaGCpXj55XtHrkkZZc6VC6qd8P_v3-K3FQQvYmfZD-xvCNT5tw1Q7CDSygEXY8/s1600/DSC04223.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOoIZffFT5fQhNkuJtzjdwqqQWleGW5x_KwjXIZaYTXiRbMuBWFD8Js5CVcHrx1s_FhyAImycSuOcbsIaGCpXj55XtHrkkZZc6VC6qd8P_v3-K3FQQvYmfZD-xvCNT5tw1Q7CDSygEXY8/s400/DSC04223.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593641964699407154" border="0" /></a>When you get enough of those darling chub-chub legs, check out the quilt my mom made for Pupster. :) It's hard to tell in the photo, but the batik blocks have beautiful turtles in them. The easiest one to pick out is in the left-hand corner of the quilt. Did you find him? I love the ocean theme with the seaweed border and polka dots just for fun! Pup is certainly a beach-boy in the making!Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04025241488328089376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283000660063058850.post-37200807265282863152011-04-07T19:10:00.002-05:002011-04-07T19:15:37.461-05:00Almost the First Time7 April 2011<br /><br />I just uncovered this little piece of history. :) It's not the first time we were all five together, but it's the first time on video! As you know, I was present at Pup's birth. The rest of the family met him the night before this video was shot, but no one get film of that (the picture with Punk pulling Pup's hair actually <span style="font-style: italic;">is</span> from that first night). This was taken the day we took Pup home, before we signed reams of paperwork (how many trees are sacrificed for each adoption, I wonder...). So, it's a smidge lackluster, but still worth the few seconds it takes to view it. At least I think so. But I may be partial. <br /><iframe title="YouTube video player" width="480" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/OHZvqqkV3ZQ" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04025241488328089376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283000660063058850.post-1762686020052154252011-03-31T18:45:00.003-05:002011-03-31T18:49:02.672-05:00Grandma Love31 March 2011<br /><br />My parents came to stay with us for a few days during my mom's spring break (she's a teacher). I snapped this sweet moment between Grandma and Pup and thought it was too adorable not to share. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7RPS9aUhMiqTj7s0aJtGeupDYOxAR6boq-guFmEhKnhefNXIhzFBCL4EAouv1FBB_SdDEg1GjvJCOgIUSFv4ozAsxA-RE2CPTSLv8nzkxrLupRn_8ge52-Yj1HLb3WDp1ADqYrLpvuPY/s1600/DSC04213_edited.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7RPS9aUhMiqTj7s0aJtGeupDYOxAR6boq-guFmEhKnhefNXIhzFBCL4EAouv1FBB_SdDEg1GjvJCOgIUSFv4ozAsxA-RE2CPTSLv8nzkxrLupRn_8ge52-Yj1HLb3WDp1ADqYrLpvuPY/s400/DSC04213_edited.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590395070825256466" border="0" /></a>Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04025241488328089376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283000660063058850.post-37153567393620405282011-03-31T18:39:00.003-05:002011-03-31T18:44:47.467-05:00Dear Tooth Fairy31 March 2011<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaMwYl3T6ILvm7-_c0CZuen6zNbq2Hrct2Rsjyn_hslm2mNSuwBJOeqB7xhwB7ieW9CiMT3u3FFzPC2tueu29L3kt7_murGjqep8yFn7g_Ijj1XlSXWN85ernROmPQNxV3d3fkAFHAXFo/s1600/DSC04218.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaMwYl3T6ILvm7-_c0CZuen6zNbq2Hrct2Rsjyn_hslm2mNSuwBJOeqB7xhwB7ieW9CiMT3u3FFzPC2tueu29L3kt7_murGjqep8yFn7g_Ijj1XlSXWN85ernROmPQNxV3d3fkAFHAXFo/s400/DSC04218.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590394100666335234" border="0" /></a>Dear Tooth Fairy,<br /><br />Somewhere, somehow things got mixed up. For some reason, people have got it in their heads that KIDS get money in exchange for the teeth they lose. Unfortunately, it seems that you simply transfer this money from the parents' pockets to the children's pillows. This is the part I have a problem with. I mean, look at this kid's mouth! Look where you put that adult tooth! It's like a half an inch behind where it should be! If you want to take money from my purse to put under her pillow, make sure you also put some magical money under MY pillow to start a fund for her braces.<br /><br />Sincerely,<br />RachelRaehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04025241488328089376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283000660063058850.post-79812797150266186382011-03-31T15:28:00.006-05:002011-04-01T19:56:57.501-05:00Pup's Dedication31 March 2011<br /><br />On Sunday we dedicated Pup to the Lord. I don't know what your church tradition is, but this one comes from the fact that Mary and Joseph dedicated Jesus to the Father when he was an infant. There is also precedence with Hannah dedicating Samuel, and maybe some other babies. I don't know as much about the background as I probably should. But when I read that Jesus was dedicated at the temple, that was good enough for me! :)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq93nwRHwH1hFwp42lydiTeTjDx9eFLpLl-pDBVU6JkaTqtCtAnThxGChRvBYHi-wMH6gT9PBRjebEnabna6voFwqpaxH-H_do-bAToW4DaoH2mqHpEYSraLbg27tMxZz55zbl5as1koQ/s1600/P1020054.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq93nwRHwH1hFwp42lydiTeTjDx9eFLpLl-pDBVU6JkaTqtCtAnThxGChRvBYHi-wMH6gT9PBRjebEnabna6voFwqpaxH-H_do-bAToW4DaoH2mqHpEYSraLbg27tMxZz55zbl5as1koQ/s400/P1020054.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590360195615234946" border="0" /></a>At our church, the families who are dedicating their children come on stage and our pastor prays over them. Then, the rest of the staff have an opportunity to offer words of encouragement or prophesy. The staff have been praying, asking God what he wants to impart to these parents and children, and then they give these word-gifts to the families at the dedication during the Sunday service.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyM5QcbMwkIqwD9__pMNhevrK86VeRvpBSP4TBI1fdK8YmdhiSzdZvLdYV5DuE3pxTs-FnU-ss9mqcOrglilVupInXe8mhQr44YuXSq_A1ZDt_6UJjHn9T80D4N0dyZafFm84QGwE1Xyk/s1600/DSC04210_edited.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyM5QcbMwkIqwD9__pMNhevrK86VeRvpBSP4TBI1fdK8YmdhiSzdZvLdYV5DuE3pxTs-FnU-ss9mqcOrglilVupInXe8mhQr44YuXSq_A1ZDt_6UJjHn9T80D4N0dyZafFm84QGwE1Xyk/s400/DSC04210_edited.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590360185023752674" border="0" /></a>Our pastor's wife told us that she had a very clear picture of Pup in early elementary school out on the playground. He was a leader among his peers and a champion of the underdog. He stuck up for those who were picked on and stood up for justice. She said it wasn't necessarily anything Aa and I had worked hard to impart to him; just part of his make-up, a gift of God for his life. Another pastor also confirmed that Pup would be a lover of his fellow man (and child!) and that he will be a defender of the weak. He went on to say that Pup will lead by example in this area.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2_fNm0v-rrNZAcQ66hS7sPEmCEwUnJikEL_CuqztpIdvjCZ4RsFHQT5V-T0cAQQgfb_fgaoQh9iNwwBPwk_tkKb2fSWpNkFNJW6JHmF-1JU6zY-VSopZrw3Ar5Ep9eqfx4stluNbfOGg/s1600/DSC04209_edited.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2_fNm0v-rrNZAcQ66hS7sPEmCEwUnJikEL_CuqztpIdvjCZ4RsFHQT5V-T0cAQQgfb_fgaoQh9iNwwBPwk_tkKb2fSWpNkFNJW6JHmF-1JU6zY-VSopZrw3Ar5Ep9eqfx4stluNbfOGg/s400/DSC04209_edited.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590360180683379682" border="0" /></a>Of course, both Aa and I were teary as we heard these words of destiny spoken over our son. I had even toyed with the idea of naming him Justice because I felt some inklings of this before he was even born! I am amazed (again) by what God is doing in and through and for our son, before he is even 3 months old!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjehTIslLRM6icRPuaVHTKpRlmxKWUksI_X2a51X2n26OEL_uylNblf6uYrquOwAP_NBugTOSGZ_H2Xjfe0XGK6RxDOjwLAdbAf41Lp21rtXaUz6lmVMfvsvERbKmky87kxNz59rMlZYvE/s1600/P1020068.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjehTIslLRM6icRPuaVHTKpRlmxKWUksI_X2a51X2n26OEL_uylNblf6uYrquOwAP_NBugTOSGZ_H2Xjfe0XGK6RxDOjwLAdbAf41Lp21rtXaUz6lmVMfvsvERbKmky87kxNz59rMlZYvE/s400/P1020068.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590360178156133282" border="0" /></a>Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04025241488328089376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283000660063058850.post-24751036155681523462011-03-31T07:55:00.004-05:002011-03-31T08:08:37.605-05:00A New Beginning<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAe3AdfpKDhlNPaaQTEa84QoAmCNX_mwaoZavnpNuxaj8JLfdkAPNJ39zSaMN0FWFDY77gYy-hE-SXhaCDgJIsyDpu4C2MPEGcyNYy8MIEUgvIuYNEGnv1gFoxLrf-4s8GGSCJPgvn0XE/s1600/DSC04202_edited.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 340px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAe3AdfpKDhlNPaaQTEa84QoAmCNX_mwaoZavnpNuxaj8JLfdkAPNJ39zSaMN0FWFDY77gYy-hE-SXhaCDgJIsyDpu4C2MPEGcyNYy8MIEUgvIuYNEGnv1gFoxLrf-4s8GGSCJPgvn0XE/s400/DSC04202_edited.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590228413864853874" border="0" /></a>31 March 2011<br /><br />Pea is beginning a new adventure--locs! She doesn't like sitting all day to have her hair done and I simply don't have that kind of time on a regular basis anymore. So, we decided to start her with locs (that's the PC term for dreadlocks, in case you were wondering). Saturday I spent all day (about 9 am to 5 pm, not including the bath at the beginning) putting the twists in that will become the locs over time. She did great and I really like how the starters turned out. ('though I think a middle part suits her better than the side one she's sporting above)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOxEjG27vr8fS5RyKU9869Lt0jGixE5A6mTPrBVjvjZf4NdaG5VS5NfeO0rc_axVzx295W8D0sSKmr_-wMYh9L01ihrOwM1gvH4a5BR7Ve9XrBOzwyY5-QTCNInEbIktTBXgRlDywpW6w/s1600/DSC04203.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOxEjG27vr8fS5RyKU9869Lt0jGixE5A6mTPrBVjvjZf4NdaG5VS5NfeO0rc_axVzx295W8D0sSKmr_-wMYh9L01ihrOwM1gvH4a5BR7Ve9XrBOzwyY5-QTCNInEbIktTBXgRlDywpW6w/s400/DSC04203.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590228409706337570" border="0" /></a>Aa was my hero that day as he devoted himself to all the things I normally would have been doing but couldn't--baby care, running errands, house work--and all the more so since we were expecting my parents to arrive that same evening! He is far and away the best husband a girl could ever dream of. Worth his weight in gold. (And check out Punk's "hair chair"! Guess he was jealous the girlie gets her own throne for hair days and decided to produce his own version!)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZnM-3jtKLnwRfqsapHSyJLVfgQwiiIg87piYEuI7ssiDe89JZnN0-6bdvkU-HfbVySZD9KElb2zFjxhV1eoE1DdrDT1vk0CPHXQiJa8CutXWvxZposbPVIUo0YqJWnt2DyvZ4D0yQIZk/s1600/DSC04184-1.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZnM-3jtKLnwRfqsapHSyJLVfgQwiiIg87piYEuI7ssiDe89JZnN0-6bdvkU-HfbVySZD9KElb2zFjxhV1eoE1DdrDT1vk0CPHXQiJa8CutXWvxZposbPVIUo0YqJWnt2DyvZ4D0yQIZk/s400/DSC04184-1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590228404154463778" border="0" /></a>Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04025241488328089376noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283000660063058850.post-56953884904899295092011-03-23T16:08:00.003-05:002011-03-23T16:21:21.066-05:00My Diabolical Plan23 March 2011<br /><br />This afternoon Punk was playing with Pup. Ever the sentimental, expressive, emotional, drama prince, he was gushing about how fun Pup is, how sweet and cute he is, etc. This fountain of love culminated in a plea for another baby ("A GIRL!!!" Pea interjected) soon! This isn't a new request. A few weeks ago Punk and Pea settled on the number of babies it would take to make our family complete: 15. That's 15 new babies. It doesn't include the three children we have now. A family of 20, apparently, is a complete family!<br /><br />But, I digress. In response to Punk's effusions, I decided to unveil a little plan I've been cooking up. I said, "Well, you know, Punk, the more babies there are, the less time Mama has for doing things around the house. And, since they still have to be done, that means that the big kids get to do them." <br /><br />He was excited, "Yay! I get to boss Pea around!"<br /><br />"Well, no, because this still doesn't mean you're the parent. It just means that you'll get to help the family more. In fact, I'm going to teach you both some new chores during Spring Break. We'll do lots of fun things, too. But, each week (they get 3 weeks off because they are in year-round school) I will teach each of you a new job and we'll spend the week learning it. Then, when you go back to school, you'll be experts and you'll be able to do the jobs yourselves!"<br /><br />I didn't get as much flack as I expected (hooray!), but that doesn't stop me from expecting it when we get busy with it! Aa and I will be deciding on some jobs that Punk and Pea can be taught to do and I'll be making a chore chart. I'm actually looking forward to it!<br /><br />Anyone out there got some suggestions for jobs a 5.5 and 6.5 year old can do? They already help set the table, feed and water the dog, take the dog to the yard to do his thing, and put away their own laundry. They've also been helping me wipe down their bathroom and I think they are ready to have that handed over too. So, what do your kids do for chores?Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04025241488328089376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283000660063058850.post-61928069804845132732011-03-15T15:02:00.004-05:002011-03-15T15:23:46.182-05:00Feeling Fraudy15 March 2011<br /><br />(Editor's note: One of these days I'll quit apologizing for being such an infrequent visitor to my own blog. But, not today. I'm sorry I've been away so long again. It's just that I rarely sit at the computer with both hands free these days. And it's hard enough to IM one-handed, much less to type in an entire blog entry!)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirVQsR37xerjtvAgcMGxAIzunUExXUAnjYUwEmG5IdUzwNpwtLGO2KJQzzbQT0B5rBKyJcXDKn7rtfCfLTcxiNbjvUesXLCjmADQVbfAuSeTAtW1FKhruJBFfZ-NAtU9h9NdDd64KvJok/s1600/DSC04155.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirVQsR37xerjtvAgcMGxAIzunUExXUAnjYUwEmG5IdUzwNpwtLGO2KJQzzbQT0B5rBKyJcXDKn7rtfCfLTcxiNbjvUesXLCjmADQVbfAuSeTAtW1FKhruJBFfZ-NAtU9h9NdDd64KvJok/s400/DSC04155.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584404262416778626" border="0" /></a>So, our sweet little Pup has been home over a month now, but there are still times that I feel like a fraud. It washes over me sometimes when I'm just driving around with my thoughts and my baby in the backseat. A feeling that I'm just the babysitter. It's trivial and passes quickly when I have the littlest love of my life in my arms. But, I also feel fraudish when strangers begin to talk to me about my baby. They'll say things like, "Oh where did he get that curly hair!?!" or "My! How can you be so skinny so soon after giving birth?" They are well-intentioned and blissfully ignorant, but since they are strangers, I don't feel any reason to go into all the ins and outs of how Pup came to our family. So, I smile awkwardly and mumble my "thank yous" and feel like a fraud inside.<br /><br />When Pea came home to us, it was obvious to everyone that she was not born of my loins. But, even though Pup is "browning up" some, the logical conclusion <span style="font-style: italic;">is</span> that I birthed him. A friend pointed out (from her experience) that Pup looks a lot like AB, which makes the fact that I'm the chronologically second mom very obvious (to me, at least). And, somehow, being second chronologically can make one feel inferior in other ways too. Also, there are still legal t's to be crossed and i's to be dotted. Living in this limbo certainly contributes to the fraudy feelings.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWiyAiKBgqFFf0OxbOMyI1BHdnp6HBoB-a0sM_sjbMfXriChZ2B85PBs8w-siVj3RBCGFSOCt9qai75c4WSFT4D15PEkPDuBTvUJU9ViDzLnhVBMlU2SbiUgauL_osoolniVeHiRyIJ-8/s1600/DSC04163_edited.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWiyAiKBgqFFf0OxbOMyI1BHdnp6HBoB-a0sM_sjbMfXriChZ2B85PBs8w-siVj3RBCGFSOCt9qai75c4WSFT4D15PEkPDuBTvUJU9ViDzLnhVBMlU2SbiUgauL_osoolniVeHiRyIJ-8/s400/DSC04163_edited.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584404254314963458" border="0" /></a><br />People often say it's the relationship that matters more than the legal definition of it. And, 98% of the time, I do feel like I really am Pup's mama. Bonding is going well in both directions. But, there is something to that little piece of paper that will say he's all mine and I'm all his. I doubt I'll feel fraudish at all after that.<br /><br />Anyway, I was glad my friend shared her experiences with me and let me know I'm not alone. And I thought that there might be someone reading this who would benefit from knowing the same. :)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwa6pKHGmZmwbVRf3_G1sDr-ad1sjXa5cROremfwpUV-s2dahAmjEUu5Xmqj5t8lpU9ejkTv_-0w6eAXbfhYe4-VNB2jVbxVDzY9jLiPT2u3QfEMIDQJDRHxp3b_2mgg9rVDnsxyB6AyI/s1600/DSC04169_edited.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwa6pKHGmZmwbVRf3_G1sDr-ad1sjXa5cROremfwpUV-s2dahAmjEUu5Xmqj5t8lpU9ejkTv_-0w6eAXbfhYe4-VNB2jVbxVDzY9jLiPT2u3QfEMIDQJDRHxp3b_2mgg9rVDnsxyB6AyI/s400/DSC04169_edited.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584404248645172354" border="0" /></a>Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04025241488328089376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283000660063058850.post-89432454747798159242011-02-23T07:44:00.005-06:002011-02-23T15:26:47.998-06:00BB is HOME!!!!!!!!!!23 February 2011<br /><br />Hooray and praise the LORD! BB is home! Actually, he has been home almost 2 weeks now, but if you've ever had a newborn, you know why it has taken me so long to get the blog updated! For one thing, I had to get to know him a little bit so I could give him a proper blog-name. I have decided on Pup. So, from now on BB (baby boy) will be known as Pup here (and occasionally in the real world).<br /><br />So, a lot has happened since the last time I was here. On the Sunday after the last post, I made a fool of myself (privately, thankfully!) getting angry at Aa for not being a good spiritual leader. It was absolutely ridiculous and humiliating. But, talking about it together did help our relationship. I told him that the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yLr6G8Xy5uc">Sanctus Real song "Lead Me"</a> always makes me cry because I live in a tension between realizing that my husband is a super-star in this area in comparison to what many women have versus wishing for more of it. I likened my feelings to the high ropes course I worked on in college. I <span style="font-style: italic;">knew</span> my equipment was strong and safe. I took good care of it, and I examined it each time before I took a group up. But, there was a different level of <span style="font-style: italic;">knowing</span> that came the first moment of each time I led a group when I jumped off the course to demonstrate how reliable my harness really was. I told Aa I felt like our relationship (or his spiritual leadership) hadn't been tested like that in awhile. So, while I knew our relationship was strong and that he is a good spiritual leader, I didn't <span style="font-style: italic;">know</span> it, if you know what I mean.<br /><br />We had some laughs and tears and it really was a galvanizing moment for us. Good thing, too, because the very next day, the agency called again with another delay! Aa swooped in and began to fight for us. Our case worker, poor dear, had all the responsibility of relaying messages from the agency to us and vice versa, but no real power to change anything. But, she went to bat for us with the higher-ups and explained our position. The paperwork was finally cleared (actually, Aa had to track that down too, but that wasn't our agency's fault), but there was still an element of risk coming from the birth father. It's complicated why the placement was still being delayed, but suffice it to say, Aa dove in there and got things moving. (As an aside, we love our agency. We love what they do and the way they do it. Because of that, we have written them a letter explaining how we feel they let us down a bit during this time. We still recommend our agency, but, unfortunately, with a slight reservation.)<br /><br />After some back and forth, the agency finally agreed to do the placement on Feb 10th. Every time the phone rang between then and when we arrived at the placement ceremony, my heart stopped. We had been disappointed and delayed so many times, I had trouble believing it was real this time.<br /><br />We went down the day before the ceremony and Cynthia bent over backwards to make arrangements for the rest of the family to meet Pup for the first time almost as soon as we arrived in town. What sweet, sweet moments those were. Here's our first family photo. And, yes, Punk is pulling his new brother's hair. Game on.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb3WryNstdvES-JGrvSIMRkB-344zRopFg9su_27j8noKWBE9oAwtwm9tpst-kM6PyRAR5v0EY8gy3jqrjV64NUx0puFgJ9KKxXMdDhgPFA6VddbaBUTWoTehf53G1cWG6Hm8nfW7uEyc/s1600/DSC04003_edited.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb3WryNstdvES-JGrvSIMRkB-344zRopFg9su_27j8noKWBE9oAwtwm9tpst-kM6PyRAR5v0EY8gy3jqrjV64NUx0puFgJ9KKxXMdDhgPFA6VddbaBUTWoTehf53G1cWG6Hm8nfW7uEyc/s400/DSC04003_edited.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576996865788076098" border="0" /></a>After visiting for about an hour, we grabbed dinner and then back to the hotel for bedtime. Unfortunately, Pea had a cold and kept us all up all night between her hacking coughs and snoring. Nonetheless, we were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when we arrived at the church for the ceremony at 11. While Aa and I signed sheaves of paperwork, AB (our birthmom) got to hang out with all three of our kids (and Cynthia, and the ICPs). Almost all Covenant Care's placements happen at their main office in Macon, but they made an exception for us and we met in Athens. This allowed a whole slew of people who usually don't get to see this part of the process to witness ours. So, we had our birthmom (unusual) and some representatives from the adoption support group from the church we were meeting in and a bunch of staff and a board member join us! The little church library was jam-packed, but there were really only two people (Pup and AB) that got any of my attention!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeublI0crDLZqLXjccQrxPrKCe7nBBLsMowN2ow2J5xlhXQNAFNP-wOxhkO_iCykJ5JBEjjpgjR8IEmq1LEt-mNt9M3R840KxZI3ya_GhnEsRUmgyfOmJgceXg1ZocDZvPLeAFuf9q9YA/s1600/DSC04007_edited.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeublI0crDLZqLXjccQrxPrKCe7nBBLsMowN2ow2J5xlhXQNAFNP-wOxhkO_iCykJ5JBEjjpgjR8IEmq1LEt-mNt9M3R840KxZI3ya_GhnEsRUmgyfOmJgceXg1ZocDZvPLeAFuf9q9YA/s400/DSC04007_edited.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576996858079050690" border="0" /></a>The ceremony was brief, but very meaningful. Afterward, AB gave me a small New Testament for Pup with a little inscription she had written in it. She told me she wanted her first gift to him to be a Bible. We also got some gifts from the ICPs, including a Georgia Bulldogs tee-shirt! The IC dad video-taped the whole thing and gave us a DVD of it on the spot! Pretty cool!<br /><br />We got everyone bundled and all our things together and headed out. It was hard to grasp that we really had him! That he's ours (almost)! On the way home, I sat next to Pup and couldn't take my eyes off of him. I needed sleep so badly, but I couldn't close my eyes. I just wanted to watch his sweet face and drink him in. I had been carrying a weight of anxiety that was lifted, but it was replaced with a new, heavier weight. Like the radiation apron at the dentist's office, covering my heart. It was the weight of loving this little man. The weight of the gift we had been given by God and by AB.<br /><br />It took us a very long time to get home. Who knew that it takes an hour to consume 4 oz of formula and get your diaper changed? When we finally got here, Dexter (our dog) went bananas. He was so happy to see us, he didn't even notice the covered car-seat carrier. But, when Pup began to squeak, boy, Dexter took on a whole new level of lunacy! For the first couple of days, any sound Pup made sent Dex into a frenzy. And, if we dared to let Pup cry for even an instant, Dexter seemed to beg us to do something for him. We began to think Dex thought Pup really was his puppy!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhztZqD7HenSbvtb1y5pVPvzQoTnCsTFurFd6etnPEjuQPvYAKW_WriHSl-Q7fYSgdxuJW1cbuTTdywYj_8DGYAdnGNrEmBk-Cxa1OCSF1UNDvPkHcqgWZI3YcmEqHN7qi65wyPr7crAtY/s1600/DSC04018.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhztZqD7HenSbvtb1y5pVPvzQoTnCsTFurFd6etnPEjuQPvYAKW_WriHSl-Q7fYSgdxuJW1cbuTTdywYj_8DGYAdnGNrEmBk-Cxa1OCSF1UNDvPkHcqgWZI3YcmEqHN7qi65wyPr7crAtY/s400/DSC04018.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576996854063156210" border="0" /></a>Well, like I said, it's been the five of us for almost two weeks now. We're getting used to each other (Dexter included) and I've discovered I way overestimated myself! It's been six and a half years since we've had a newborn and I simply forgot how demanding he would be. But, precious, oh so precious. I can't get enough of him. Neither can Aa or the bigs. We're all in love, love, love.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc3e7AvSAUgJodHZfRP9OpOk5O2U8DIUart4IC04zkYhKhk9arHigdEqQpY4U9Q6PWTj6pXzYsAjKV55OSbP4u3o3a4QOe8gAH5jhv0gbG3uFyxcGgwxi9Jmn8uWxSuMNDdDQBizUm9ec/s1600/DSC04078_edited.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc3e7AvSAUgJodHZfRP9OpOk5O2U8DIUart4IC04zkYhKhk9arHigdEqQpY4U9Q6PWTj6pXzYsAjKV55OSbP4u3o3a4QOe8gAH5jhv0gbG3uFyxcGgwxi9Jmn8uWxSuMNDdDQBizUm9ec/s400/DSC04078_edited.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576995872205945042" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0uCsdxi5CqCiJgkyxCBWZ3BJDVLz9Ed1uydrhes2EUrbFaZW_IXUSnYEyeeCwVpx2npAHs1Tm15MYX8BlyIgtFnqID26vro0CSrbrhjOIRQpAAjznv0Lo2KXYX9CBSKBVyJbMVzbxvZ4/s1600/DSC04081_edited.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 321px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0uCsdxi5CqCiJgkyxCBWZ3BJDVLz9Ed1uydrhes2EUrbFaZW_IXUSnYEyeeCwVpx2npAHs1Tm15MYX8BlyIgtFnqID26vro0CSrbrhjOIRQpAAjznv0Lo2KXYX9CBSKBVyJbMVzbxvZ4/s400/DSC04081_edited.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576995866673050082" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRk8gOhLFmWplKG6QjTQvqdDnYU69d19lkQZgs8UpAKtuDOxBy_W_eNkGnJyLtciSmbm9Q53eDURJ7bv8CfF3myvOkszd9oN-JH-nC9bvD0BsrF9KwlTgALmdYRdeY4ntpW8xXeTnkxzE/s1600/DSC04103_edited.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRk8gOhLFmWplKG6QjTQvqdDnYU69d19lkQZgs8UpAKtuDOxBy_W_eNkGnJyLtciSmbm9Q53eDURJ7bv8CfF3myvOkszd9oN-JH-nC9bvD0BsrF9KwlTgALmdYRdeY4ntpW8xXeTnkxzE/s400/DSC04103_edited.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576995862028775650" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjspeHH65A47EwYS3120oS2sE6haGtR-xtnIzaisOyXaxeVAxEWUOstnFdakfCkOJvAbKHR9ZjecC4ciu5emQlvLOpmKx_h_YyoFuT92hhH3FrH_UDFKxP80_5BJMGPdStA4VLO8RJrdE0/s1600/DSC04121_edited.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjspeHH65A47EwYS3120oS2sE6haGtR-xtnIzaisOyXaxeVAxEWUOstnFdakfCkOJvAbKHR9ZjecC4ciu5emQlvLOpmKx_h_YyoFuT92hhH3FrH_UDFKxP80_5BJMGPdStA4VLO8RJrdE0/s400/DSC04121_edited.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576995857775301346" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqLJdnRbF6DxLRYITMgd0TY9MLMfGfBLg13N8YHhN7f8hQRLnWNX2ZSxOuCwpKNc9xWYNLCZjBTSzvtBawHiKcET1vzXANgZIKu80R3xxfSbaDatUccCwHQBR1N0bCJVoLAI1rYQJDVbc/s1600/DSC04129_edited.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqLJdnRbF6DxLRYITMgd0TY9MLMfGfBLg13N8YHhN7f8hQRLnWNX2ZSxOuCwpKNc9xWYNLCZjBTSzvtBawHiKcET1vzXANgZIKu80R3xxfSbaDatUccCwHQBR1N0bCJVoLAI1rYQJDVbc/s400/DSC04129_edited.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576995854028810322" border="0" /></a>Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04025241488328089376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283000660063058850.post-27808978334888326602011-01-26T18:18:00.007-06:002011-01-26T19:29:42.349-06:00Why Can't It Ever Be Easy?!26 January 2010<br /><br />Well, friends, I've taken you this far on our adoption journey and I know a lot of you are invested in this right along with us. One of my friends even said she's never had such an intimate look into the heart of adoption. And that is what prompts me to share this post with you today.<br /><br />The reality of adoption is that here we are again, facing a temporary set-back. I really don't want to go into all the details here, but, on Monday (the 24th) we were thinking we'd be having the placement ceremony (where we would take custody, but not a full adoption because there is still more paperwork to be done over the following months) on Thursday or Friday (27th or 28th) of this week. We were all very excited about the possibility of getting in the car on Wednesday to be with our BB. I had spent the morning buying BB's formula, bottles, and diapers since the trip was impending. Pea even made this drawing at school.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxpNtCs3Gnh8w6gUtXQb-DPr9oyQfGbRfTS5lycGbBc1G4nRxTLkh_uK5dZQss1Nv7gfsujvyupjt7-i7VgCpPP_DUPOpj9x9RZampiGwDBwGeH4a25YN4R2I8NsIHdWMFZtcMM7a16wg/s1600/IMG.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 289px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxpNtCs3Gnh8w6gUtXQb-DPr9oyQfGbRfTS5lycGbBc1G4nRxTLkh_uK5dZQss1Nv7gfsujvyupjt7-i7VgCpPP_DUPOpj9x9RZampiGwDBwGeH4a25YN4R2I8NsIHdWMFZtcMM7a16wg/s400/IMG.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566668626721443378" border="0" /></a>It shows the four of us in our van (big purple circle around us), driving to get BB. The kids are wearing their seatbelts (black lines across them) and watching a movie (gumball machine in the middle). The flower next to me is the steering wheel. On the back it says: "I am gown (going) to have a babe (baby) and it is a bow (boy) his nam (name) is (BB) and he is gown (going) to be brown (he's bi-racial)." She even asked if she could read this to the class!<br /><br />All of this joyful preparation was interrupted when I got a call last night saying there was another delay. To say I was disappointed barely scratches the surface. All the gleeful gathering of supplies I had done that day seemed a mockery to me.<br /><br />It was about 5:10 PM when I answered the phone. When I hung up, I fell apart, sobbing from my very toenails on up. I expected Aa home any minute and wanted to pull myself together so he wouldn't walk into the house to discover the puddle that had formerly been his wife. But, as soon as I gained control, I thought about having to tell him and the torrents overtook me again. So, puddle he did find.<br /><br />"What's wrong?"<br />"It's...(sob, sob)...nothing permanent...(sob, sob, sob)... It's just (sob) a delay (sob, sob, sob) but we can't go for BB (sob, sob) until (sob) next week." (Utter dissolution)<br /><br />Having thoroughly besmirched his shirt, I began to tell him the details, well-laden with grief, anger, and disappointment. Feeling the same, he suggested we call back our case worker. She kindly repeated everything she'd told me, answered a few more questions, and complimented us on our sweet spirits. I told her she wouldn't have thought me sweet had she seen the tantrum that filled the space between phone calls. She smiled and then prayed with us and vowed to let us know when she heard any news.<br /><br />After we hung up with her, I recalled a verse that came up in a Bible study I attended Monday morning. Isa 49:25b: "For I will contend with the one who contends with you, And I will save your sons." Now, that's an Old Testament verse and I think it needs to be illuminated by the New Testament. Eph 6:12: "For we are <span class="criteria">not</span> fighting [contending] <span class="criteria">against</span> people made of <span class="criteria">flesh</span> <span class="criteria">and</span> <span class="criteria">blood</span>, but <span class="criteria">against</span> the evil rulers <span class="criteria">and</span> authorities of the unseen world, <span class="criteria">against</span> those mighty powers of darkness who rule this world, <span class="criteria">and</span> <span class="criteria">against</span> wicked spirits in the heavenly realms." My mama-bear proclivities rose to the surface and, boy, did I want to contend with powers of evil! But, mama bears have to tend the cubs already in the den, so I had to hold that thought and feed my hungry family.<br /><br />Today I have had a lot of quiet time to think on all this. I even went to church this mid-day (they have been opening the sanctuary for prayer 11:30-1:30 every weekday) to pray. As I approached the throne of grace, I felt I ought to come contending. But, I found, I really don't know how to contend in the spirit. I'm sadly lacking in spiritual warfare prowess. All I could do was beg. And that seemed all wrong too. Quickly, I felt Him nudging me, whispering (and I don't mean audibly, just speaking to my heart), <span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);">"Daughter, that verse you're clinging to... it says </span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 153);">I </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);">will contend on your behalf. </span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 153);"> I</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);"> will save your son."</span><br />"Oh. Well, then, what am I supposed to do?"<br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);">"Be still and know that I am God.* Remember who I am and what I've already done for you."</span><br />"But I'm afraid! This isn't just about me missing out on a few more days of holding BB. It isn't just about me missing out on his coos and the little ways he changes every day. This is about his DESTINY, God! His whole future is hanging in the balance here. This is BIG!"<br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);">"Yes, my child. It is. Do you remember a few weeks ago, in December, when you thought it looked like none of this would come to pass? Can you not trust me?"</span><br /><br />There was soft worship music playing in the sanctuary and the lyrics were just extolling God. I felt a little abashed. "How could I forget? How could I forget who You are? I'm sorry. I get it. But I'm so weary. This has been almost 2 weeks of the most extreme emotions, from one end of the spectrum to the other, back and forth. I'm overwhelmed and exhausted."<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);">"</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);" class="criteria">Come</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);"> to me, </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);" class="criteria">weary woman, heavy-</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);">burdened, and I will give you rest.** Let me contend for you while you rest. You've borrowed many woes with your 'what-ifs.' Just stay in this moment, resting on My promises, My Word, My character." </span><br /><br />"Oh yeah. I know I have spent many tears on things that may never happen. But, it's scary to think about never being allowed to hold my son again. Help me turn my thoughts to You, though, when they start to carry me away."<br /><br />I sat there a while longer, just reminding myself who He is, and soaking in His presence. When I got home, there was a reply to an email I had sent the night before to AB's case worker for her to pass on to AB for us. My note said:<br /><span><span><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:black;"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:black;"><br />Dear AB,<br /><br />I just wanted to touch base with you while these delays are going on. I know you are very disappointed. I know you know we are too. I don't mind telling you I wept another bucket of tears when I got the call that there would be a delay in getting to be with BB. We are so looking forward to being united as a family. But, I wanted to share with you a verse that is bringing me peace and hope. It is Isaiah 49:25b. It says, "For I will contend with the one who contends with you, And I will save your sons." I know that "the one who contends with you" is no person, but Satan and the forces of evil. God is fighting for what is good and right for BB; He will save our son. I'm confident of that. And, Aa and I are contending in the spiritual realm as well. Just wanted you to know we're disappointed but not discouraged.<br /><br />Faith and hope to you,<br />R and Aa</span></span></span></span><br /><br />The response said: "<span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:black;"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:black;">I called AB and read this to her....She was touched...I was touched....Traci (social work intern) was touched!!! God will Win!" </span></span><br /><br />And that got me to thinking... During the hours I spent at the hospital with AB and BB, I prayed that God would woo her to Him, that all of this adoption experience would strengthen her relationship with Him, that He would continually reveal Himself to AB through BB's story. So, it occurred to me, that maybe, maybe that's what's going on here. This very well may be for God's glory. In fact, I know He will use it to bring glory to His name. And, that's good enough for me! <br /><br />I have said that we gave BB the middle name Immanuel because we know that God has been with us (AB and BB included) through all of this. And, I have said that I believe BB's story will be told widely and that it will bring glory to God's name. So, why was I surprised that it got hard again?! Silly me!<br /><br />Adoption is so close to God's heart, so integral to His plan, indeed to who He is as our Father, that we should just expect it to be opposed. We should just expect the roller coaster to dip a few times. But, the thing is, the dips are what makes the heights glorious. And, when we look back on this time, we will see that God <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">did</span> contend on our behalf and that <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">He</span> saved our son. It will be obvious that God did this thing, that no man or power of darkness can overcome Him. And He will get the glory. Amen.<br /><br />(If you are concerned about the practical side of all this, we are now looking at doing the placement ceremony on Wed, Feb 2.)<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">*Ps. 46:10 "<span class="criteria">Be</span> <span class="criteria">still</span>, and <span class="criteria">know</span> that I am <span class="criteria">God</span>; I will <span class="criteria">be</span> exalted among the nations, I will <span class="criteria">be</span> exalted in the earth." Pretty good stuff right there!<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">**Mat. 11:28 "<span class="criteria">Come</span> to me, all you who are <span class="criteria">weary</span> and burdened, and I will give you rest."</span>Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04025241488328089376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283000660063058850.post-66945244381313697732011-01-18T18:38:00.009-06:002011-01-23T07:34:04.393-06:00Round Two--The Big Weekend18 January 2011 (well, that's when I started writing this, anyway!)<br /><br />Have you ever been on a mission trip, or had any big event in your life, and had someone ask you, "How was it?" There's just no easy way to answer that question because there's soooooooo very much to tell and most of it can't be expressed in words. There's a lot of "you had to be there" mixed in with a lot of "I just can't explain it." So, I'll try to give you a reasonable, readable account of the weekend. But, just know, it's falling far short of the reality.<br /><br />I left on Friday (Jan 14) in a flurry of activity because I had to check into the hospital's guest house by 10 o'clock and Aa had a meeting until 3. With a 6.5 hour drive and possible icy roads and the need to satisfy basic bodily functions, there simply wasn't a moment to spare. I took off flying, after filling up with gas! The roads were mostly clear with only a few scary spots. But, I had prayed that God would send angels to keep the car on the road, and even though I drove on some ice, I never felt the car slip one centimeter.<br /><br />I made it just in time. The hospital's guest house is very economical, which means it isn't luxurious. But being so close was worth the sacrifice of amenities. I do wish I'd brought my own pillow along, though. I took a couple of Tylenol PMs and prayed myself to sleep.<br /><br />My plan for Saturday morning was to be at the hospital at 7 for breakfast. AB (our birth mom) was scheduled to be induced at 7 and she was going to call me in when she was all hooked up to all the gadgets and ready to go. So, I set my alarm before going to bed Friday night. I needn't have bothered! I was awake long before it sounded. Apparently, adrenaline is stronger than TPM! Anyway, although I am not a morning person, I was easily able to keep to the plan.<br /><br />About 8 AM, Cynthia, AB's case worker, called to tell me she was on her way in. She also informed me that AB had gone into labor on her own and had been contracting since 3 AM!!! Not only that, she had progressed to 4 cm when she came in this morning! I was thrilled to know that, even though the induction was a week ahead of the due date, her body was ready to do its thing--and that we might have a baby sooner than later.<br /><br />Cynthia had another surprise for me. AB wasn't alone in the room as we had thought she would be. Her aunt (J) and 13 yr old cousin (D) were already there. I continued to wait for Cynthia so that we could go in together.<br /><br />Cynthia arrived about 8:30, so we headed in. I hadn't seen AB in a month and this was only our second meeting. I gave her a big hug and handed her the gifts I had brought--a fleecy warm robe, woolly slipper-booties, and the box Aaron had made with a few more recent photos in it. She was very pleased--and cold! So, I helped her slip on the booties and the robe. Then I got to meet J and D, who were sitting off to the side. While all this gift-giving and introductions were going on, AB was having contractions every 5-6 minutes. But, no one seemed to be coaching her through them. Since I was right there during the gift-giving, I stepped in to coach. I had tried to prepare as best I could in the week leading up to the big day since I thought I would be the only one there. Throughout the entire labor, I was the only one who ever attempted to help (besides the nurses). I was very glad I had done my little bit of boning up!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL6U7TC6I7ai-Yqmea7qS7u2RCy25wtpXje1WOT1iT1jvW61KQCvKJPPpAC0eP4Fec2VeOCePEkYGnCAO5zRVjkhefBQj_WFsxAPvdHL4Hi5bMER8C9twMfN4dN3MQon7Lyk9DMiRxcT4/s1600/11.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL6U7TC6I7ai-Yqmea7qS7u2RCy25wtpXje1WOT1iT1jvW61KQCvKJPPpAC0eP4Fec2VeOCePEkYGnCAO5zRVjkhefBQj_WFsxAPvdHL4Hi5bMER8C9twMfN4dN3MQon7Lyk9DMiRxcT4/s400/11.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565146548390126050" border="0" /></a>Not long after we arrived, maybe 10 or so, the nurse checked AB's progress. She had dilated another 2 cms! Cynthia encouraged her that this would be the time to get the epidural so that she didn't get too far along. Now, AB has another child--a 22 month old girl--and the epidural procedure didn't go so smoothly the first time. So, she was very fearful about it. Everyone had to clear the room except for me (I am so grateful and in awe that I was the chosen one) and the nurse anesthetist came in. Poor soul. He was trying to talk to AB when a contraction hit. I asked him to hang on until it was over. He went on after that, but it was sorta down hill from there on. AB told him that she'd had a bad experience in the past. I think it made him even more nervous. He got her into position and started trying to get the needle between the vertebrae, but hers are very tightly joined. He struggled for probably 45 minutes, in two different places and finally got so upset that he sorta threw his instruments on the bed and raised his hands and said, "I give up."<br /><br />AB was in a lot of pain from the contractions by this point and she was very afraid of going through the hardest parts of labor without the epidural. The nurse called the anesthesiologist (dr.) to come. When he showed up a few minutes later, he tried to talk her out of having the procedure. She was very upset. Cynthia had said before she left, "I'm all for epidurals for adoptions. There is enough pain involved that whatever we can get rid of, I feel we should." I also felt that AB was not confident and neither one of us was truly prepared to get her through without the epidural. So, I asked the doctor if he would try just one time, just once. He capitulated.<br /><br />Now, almost the whole time the nurse anesthetist was trying, I was praying silently that God would open up the space in her vertebrae. And, most of that time, I felt an urge to pray out loud. But, I was embarrassed. I barely know the girl, although she does have faith, and I certainly didn't know the nurse or the anesthetist. But, with only one more try, I sucked it up, leaned into AB's ear and prayed, "Lord God, you can do this. Open up AB's vertebrae so that the needle can go in and she can get the help she needs to get through this." Then I helped her breathe through the contraction.<br /><br />In no time at all, the dr. had the epidural in place. He said it was difficult, but compared with the nurse anesthetist, he made it look easy! And, as soon as it was in, AB said, "Oh, praise Jesus!" And we had a little moment of worship and thanks before the next contraction came on.<br /><br />J and D came back into the room and then D's phone rang. It was "Granny." D rolled her eyes a lot while talking to her and J and AB seemed very surprised she had called. Then there was a tap on my shoulder. D held the phone out to me with a quizzical/worried look on her face, and said "She wants to talk to you." So, I got to talk to Granny a bit. Not knowing what to expect, but not getting good vibes from the ones who did, I took a positive stance. I told her she would be so proud of her girl who was doing such a great job. Granny said, "Well, she comes from good stock!" Hee hee! She was kind to me and said she was grateful for me and my family. Then she asked for D again. A few minutes later, she talked to AB. At one point in the conversation, I heard AB tell Granny, "You would love her if you met her. I know I made the right choice and that this is the right family." I was overwhelmed with gratitude to hear AB speak about me and my family that way.<br /><br />After she got off the phone, she told me that Granny hadn't spoken to her since she found out "about all this." I asked if they had been close before, and she said, "Yeah. I think so." Then J said "Granny's just Granny." And that was the end of that.<br /><br />Then, AB's best friend--a friend she's had for 14 years--came. She was very sweet and supportive. She brought a lightness and a happy atmosphere to the room. I wasn't sure how happy I should be around AB. Plus, I was pretty focused on making sure AB was comfortable and doing well. We'll call this friend K. I liked having K there. She made an effort to get to know me and also to make sure AB was doing well.<br /><br />At about noon, I think, the epidural wasn't doing its job very well any more. So, the nurse came in and checked AB. She was now 8 cm! The contractions were monstrous on the monitor--tall, wide, and right on top of one another. AB was crying through the contractions and not handling them very well. So, the nurse called for the anesthetist to come back and give a boost (I forgot the technical term). After he left, she sort of giggled and said, "That's the biggest boost I've ever seen!" I think we sorta scared him the first time he saw us!<br /><br />The nurse glanced back at the screen and said, "I'm just gonna check you again." Her face registered surprise and she said she could feel the baby's head! She said he had dropped about 5 cm since the last check about 20 minutes back! She called the OB and told AB that if she sat her up and AB started pushing, we'd have the baby before the dr. could arrive!<br /><br />We all started buzzing, and the everyone pulled out their cell phones! The nurse was busy getting everything in place and minutes later, just after I'd asked how long the dr would take to arrive, he came in! He explained a few things, AB shifted positions, and everything began happening so fast! She was afraid she wouldn't be able to push because the giant boost had made her numb from her ribs to her toes. She couldn't feel a thing. And, she had pushed for 2 1/2 hours in her first delivery, so she was afraid because of that too. I was able to help calm her down and she did so wonderfully! Even without being able to feel, I think it was only five contractions later that his head was out! And then his body.<br /><br />I began to sob with emotions I can't name even now. There is nothing like that moment in all the world. Nothing to compare it to. Nothing. I've never participated in any birth besides Punk's and it was very different being an observer. And, yet, not just an observer. The mother of the child too! My heart swelled and I lost my breath and I just heaved tears all over the place.<br /><br />The cord was around his neck and there was meconium in the water, so I didn't get to cut the cord as planned. They whisked the baby to the side of the room and began working on him. Everyone else followed the baby, but I stayed with AB. After the placenta was out and she was a little more calm and comfortable, I left her side for just a moment to snap one quick photo of him.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnT-kYre4ZbeIsEFUGsi4dOoAt2eylDM-H3z7sUHvlZcG4bQUASNnXs6d4kqv_GkEz2hfgioW_St8Wec6AuNhUEGjctCS6LPwZUKRVxuB-4qlkPgviCQphf4fdbRs1-5OekRqsGLUB3rI/s1600/DSC03961.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnT-kYre4ZbeIsEFUGsi4dOoAt2eylDM-H3z7sUHvlZcG4bQUASNnXs6d4kqv_GkEz2hfgioW_St8Wec6AuNhUEGjctCS6LPwZUKRVxuB-4qlkPgviCQphf4fdbRs1-5OekRqsGLUB3rI/s400/DSC03961.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565146541580417298" border="0" /></a>They were able to stabilize BB (Baby Boy, until I can gift him a blog name) and brought him over. AB held him first for a few minutes, then me. Someone else asked to hold him and he got passed around like a communion tray for a little while. Finally, the nurses said he needed to go to the nursery and I could come along. So I did. I really hope SOMEONE took care of AB while I was gone.<br /><br />After they messed with my little boy for a while, and gave him his first bath, I was able to take him to a little room and give him his first feeding. It was a precious time. He is so very tiny. So, so, so tiny. After he ate, I took a few pictures of him. And then we went to AB's room and hung out with her for a while.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDzzCmj6DPs2xCeu5a2x-0m7sECQbgtDJETtFiyEixAyILdlrbeT24qaKD20WgM_JmTd4NhhaQgh9uvTbKX_V2LIJaBpuyRTk15q2iwZ3s_RrubWJqSKxQgun0olvUVAAFWoFycqK9lbI/s1600/13.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 297px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDzzCmj6DPs2xCeu5a2x-0m7sECQbgtDJETtFiyEixAyILdlrbeT24qaKD20WgM_JmTd4NhhaQgh9uvTbKX_V2LIJaBpuyRTk15q2iwZ3s_RrubWJqSKxQgun0olvUVAAFWoFycqK9lbI/s400/13.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565146532130826850" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBgKgc-aIlmCUF2BafAZ1HVJTCeFbE30Et2y-ledKE9GKo7ND-6kMqZ4ASTTh_hn66Qsd_o95GbWb-QGZMkcJhvuU5VgIhQFdY2tcc8SFrz_pIFJ-iHpblotusfSDq2LRNJmOjjoQaNQc/s1600/12.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBgKgc-aIlmCUF2BafAZ1HVJTCeFbE30Et2y-ledKE9GKo7ND-6kMqZ4ASTTh_hn66Qsd_o95GbWb-QGZMkcJhvuU5VgIhQFdY2tcc8SFrz_pIFJ-iHpblotusfSDq2LRNJmOjjoQaNQc/s400/12.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565145746893369266" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9tsqIc4exayhXDK3dDKOUFJ9hHTse0cjjHWZ9GnkSpnxg1V5ST6lNrb0zl_X-CLHSQ9GFJ0H811SleOG6hV1drWCkIJbQLtgGCzu9wjnvtDrs6z_8rcszn55G7rCYDjMEZN9Eh5Uhc-Y/s1600/5.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9tsqIc4exayhXDK3dDKOUFJ9hHTse0cjjHWZ9GnkSpnxg1V5ST6lNrb0zl_X-CLHSQ9GFJ0H811SleOG6hV1drWCkIJbQLtgGCzu9wjnvtDrs6z_8rcszn55G7rCYDjMEZN9Eh5Uhc-Y/s400/5.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565145739320363202" border="0" /></a>I went to get some dinner and when I came back up the elevator, J was standing there waiting. There was another woman waiting also. I didn't want to make them miss the elevator, but I asked J, "How's she doing?"<br /><br />She said, "She's fine. Just resting."<br /><br />"Oh, okay, I'll see you later." And, we went our separate ways. When I got to AB's room, I mentioned having seen J.<br /><br />She said, "Yeah, and that was my mother with her." I was shocked that J hadn't introduced us!<br /><br />I said, "Oh, will she be coming back?"<br /><br />"Yeah, they just went to get something to eat."<br /><br />"Are you glad your mother is here?"<br /><br />"Yeah, but she doesn't like this."<br /><br />"Did she try to talk you out of it?" I realize looking back that this sounded to AB like I was concerned she might change her mind. I'm sorry for that because I was really asking a question more akin to "How's your heart? Do you need ministry?"<br /><br />"No one can talk me out of this," she said defensively. "I know this is the right thing. I know all the facts. I know God has put all this together and no one can say any differently."<br /><br />We talked a little about her relationship with her mom, but she wasn't very forthcoming. When J and L (AB's mom) came back, AB introduced us. She asked me to tell her mom about the baby's name and it's meaning. His middle name is Immanuel, which means "God with us." We chose it because we feel it is very clear that God has been with us--with this family, with AB, and with BB--through all of this. And, that He will continue to our constant companion.<br /><br />We all three chatted a bit more, and took turns holding BB. I think it was good for L and even J and AB to see me with BB. I also think it was really good for L and J to see me continuing to care for AB and build relationship.<br /><br />When I finally pulled away that night, I felt like I was suspended between two worlds--one of total and complete exhaustion and one of extreme emotion. Even though I took some more TPM, I slept restlessly. I woke up early Sunday morning trying to scheme ways to stay during the interim until the rest of the family could come and we could bring BB home. I phoned Aa at 6:30 AM begging to stay. In the end, we decided I should stay one more night. It seemed like a better transition for me to leave when the others were discharged from the hospital and I just wasn't ready to leave either AB or BB just yet. But, I really missed the rest of my family, and I knew they needed me too.<br /><br />After breakfast Sunday morning, I was right on time for BB's first feeding of the morning. AB wasn't up yet, so I just held him and looked at him and loved him some more.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp3UDR-sdnBAlsk2Sh1WCkBXV1lUtrTpdkpK3ayGiVu9OIUrpqmgW23gjj6rG5eGUf2jJ7ZSCEe7FzgrY6M_h8SDVcIaWuqfRV0nHlwAkfGU5R0IcXzVdcKfRc3A1SrS22hKKW53HZsjY/s1600/7.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp3UDR-sdnBAlsk2Sh1WCkBXV1lUtrTpdkpK3ayGiVu9OIUrpqmgW23gjj6rG5eGUf2jJ7ZSCEe7FzgrY6M_h8SDVcIaWuqfRV0nHlwAkfGU5R0IcXzVdcKfRc3A1SrS22hKKW53HZsjY/s400/7.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565145737823794050" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnSjIDXfWWsoqe6r-TN6s0pSSfEQSYCRAc5Swr0mua9RND9sp5CDsbfUuKtTLNGLz6JIXbvvVvUjtuGkE01E8rb2v0sdSYJT8umJ-2TGTXW8MjrFrQeMeR_uyd0d_eDD4UV-K9EHYCCTc/s1600/9.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 336px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnSjIDXfWWsoqe6r-TN6s0pSSfEQSYCRAc5Swr0mua9RND9sp5CDsbfUuKtTLNGLz6JIXbvvVvUjtuGkE01E8rb2v0sdSYJT8umJ-2TGTXW8MjrFrQeMeR_uyd0d_eDD4UV-K9EHYCCTc/s400/9.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565145734592728994" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvlhT4nml0uKgS4Jf5m4QEf2FxHvOmBWQEC2YmkoRklBOgViWKvsfF2JOdfJEdeynKboaSNsGohxAJ4rQu7UU4bZYsKdJ-k47eDDUqmHSyBOhzU0SMxkarHVnnXMQzV6Z7t218eCEVbM8/s1600/10.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvlhT4nml0uKgS4Jf5m4QEf2FxHvOmBWQEC2YmkoRklBOgViWKvsfF2JOdfJEdeynKboaSNsGohxAJ4rQu7UU4bZYsKdJ-k47eDDUqmHSyBOhzU0SMxkarHVnnXMQzV6Z7t218eCEVbM8/s400/10.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565145731868717010" border="0" /></a>L had spent the night with AB and was still there when I brought BB to her room. We all just hung out for a while. They were both really glad that I was able to stay another day, as was Cynthia. Cynthia had set an appointment with AB to sign the relinquishment papers at 4 PM Sunday. So, as the hours passed, AB started to draw into herself. I stuck around, but the focus changed from she and I spending time together to watching tv. I understand this natural defense mechanism, but I hadn't thought ahead to expect it, and I admit, it did hurt me a little bit.<br /><br />L left mid-day, so AB and I were alone for a while leading up to the meeting. She never turned off the tv, but did decide to try to nap. I stayed nearby, with BB, and read a book. Around 3, I needed to change BB's diaper. He doesn't like that! So, he began to cry, and disturbed AB. When I had him all fixed up, she asked to hold him. At 3:45 Cynthia brought the interim care parents to meet us. The plan was to spend a few minutes together and then I would go with the baby and the ICPs to another room for awhile while Cynthia did the paperwork with AB. The ICPs were not what either AB nor I were expecting and they didn't go over well with AB, so Cynthia sent us on our way. But, before I left the room, I asked AB if I could hug her. She said yes, so I did. I said a few words to her and we cried a little bit, and then I left as Cynthia stepped back in.<br /><br />I truly have never been in such a desperate situation that I have ever had to consider making such a choice as AB had made. I couldn't come close to comprehending what she must be feeling as she faced the moment of finalizing the adoption plan by relinquishing her rights to her son. As I walked out of that room, my heart was so heavy. I was pushing the rolling bassinet with BB in it, but not one of my thoughts was on him. My heart felt as heavy as lead but as fragile as the thinnest glass, and about 10 steps down the hall, I collapsed (emotionally) under the weight of it. I began to sob loudly and the ICPs turned around. The IC mother held me for a few moments while I collected myself (and the people in the room whose door I was in front of peeked out to see what was the matter). I continued to weep as we walked the corridor to the little room.<br /><br />I wish this was an ideal world where adoption was unnecessary--on both sides of the coin. I wish babies were only born into situations where they would flourish and that every mother had all the myriad resources and support it takes to parent successfully. I wish that every mother who has those resources and support and who desires to parent could give birth to the children she longs for. But, that's not this world. And, adoption is necessary. And, I believe that this instance, this child, this birth mother, this adoptive family were all created for each other and that this is one of the cases where adoption is truly the best option for everyone. But, the fact of the matter remains, there is much grief woven into the picture--for AB, for BB, and for me.<br /><br />When we sat down in the little room, I scooped up BB and kissed his precious face with sloppy, teary-wet kisses. And as I held him, I grieved for my son, for this moment in his one-day old life was not a happy one. Then I dried my tears and turned my attention to the ICPs and we chatted about the rest of my family and the rest of theirs. They took pictures of me and BB on their IPhones and we sent them home to Aa and the kiddinkidinks, along with a video of me and BB.<br /><br />For my part, I liked the ICPs. They are a retired couple and she is quiet and sweet and nurturing and her presence is a soothing, peaceful one. He is a mountain of a man and his presence would overwhelm even a large room. But, he is obviously very loving also--even with his quirks.<br /><br />After some time, Cynthia came in and said that J was with AB and that she was handling it well. She dismissed the ICPs and I took BB to the nursery. Then, Cynthia and I went out to dinner--the first time I had been off the hospital grounds since arriving Friday night. We talked about what happens from here on out, and made the 18-year plan of letters, photos, and visits. I told her about God's promise to exceed my expectations with this adoption and the many ways I saw Him fulfilling the promise. I told her that we will be pursuing foster-parenting as soon as we feel up to it (I'm thinking this will be a mostly-up-to-it feeling--100% may never come!). And, she enlightened me on a few things from her 16 years' experience working with birth mothers.<br /><br />I relaxed back at the guest house for a little while, calling my husband, my mom, and my sister in turn to update them. Then, I went back up to the hospital to say goodnight. It was a very short visit, and slightly awkward. J was there, but she was very removed (emotionally). AB didn't seem to know what to say to me, nor I to her. So I just said good night to them both and to BB.<br /><br />Monday morning came and I didn't know if it was too soon or too late. I hadn't slept well again but I was anxious to see BB and AB again. I was planning to leave at 11 AM and the hours til then seemed too short. The pediatrician had decided BB needed a bili-bed for his jaundice on Sunday, so we weren't supposed to be holding him on Monday, except to feed and change him. Well, how can a mother--either one of us--say good-bye to her baby while he's lying in a blue-lighted bassinet. It simply wasn't possible.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinvlOrmYslto_s1VwE4_JZZEQCwmUlTEfUKu1N_y0Sbvy8O8pyVSiqylqS4T3cJCaTJCk9gpUsDxKR1KjIbehaxSC4O2rBHPQgLRMUzZXFpYnR1_kpKsp3RgDoKZ0zEopsM9oDkCTI-_U/s1600/3.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 336px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinvlOrmYslto_s1VwE4_JZZEQCwmUlTEfUKu1N_y0Sbvy8O8pyVSiqylqS4T3cJCaTJCk9gpUsDxKR1KjIbehaxSC4O2rBHPQgLRMUzZXFpYnR1_kpKsp3RgDoKZ0zEopsM9oDkCTI-_U/s400/3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565143465084086258" border="0" /></a>The nurse came in to AB's room where we were both preparing to depart and told us that she understood the situation but that he really needed to be in the bed. In fact, he was being transferred to Pediatrics and would have to stay another night because he wasn't improving. She asked who would be staying with him. I said I needed to get home to the rest of my family, but that the agency had provided for an interim family to care for him, and that the IC mother would the one to stay the night. As the nurse was asking how to contact her, AB said, "I want to stay with him." I said, "Well, we need to talk with the social worker about that." So, AB called Cynthia and explained. She said she would come on over.<br /><br />When she arrived, I took BB to the other little room to say good-bye. Cynthia said a few words to AB and then came to see me. I bawled, "Cynthia, I have some really ugly feelings about AB staying with BB tonight." She held me and said, "I know you do." I said, "I'm jealous and angry and fearful." So, she began to pray. When she finished, I thanked her and said, "I know there's no reason to be afraid. I know in my head that AB is solid in her decision and that she is not going to change her mind, but heart just can't seem to grasp it."<br /><br />Cynthia said, "I can't convince your heart, but I can tell you that AB has never wavered, never so much as swayed since I first met her. And, I do not see this as movement on her part. She really hasn't had much time alone with BB and perhaps she needs that; perhaps this is God's way of meeting that need for her."<br /><br />I said, "Okay, I can see that, but... All this time, I have been here with them, but when I leave, there is no one left to protect my interests and I can't convince my heart to be okay with that."<br /><br />She squeezed me and said, "Oh, but there is. And He will never let you down. He knows better than us what is needed in this situation and He will take care of you and BB and AB."<br /><br />"You're right," I said. "You're right. My heart can't grasp that now, but I think I can get there while I drive home."<br /><br />I went on to explain that I thought that part of AB's wish to stay was born out of her dislike of the ICPs because her first impression had been askew. Cynthia said she would work on that.<br /><br />I said good-bye to my tiny boy-o, checked out of the guest house, and started on my way. About an hour later, Cynthia called to say that she had talked with J and they felt AB should go home and rest. Would I pray that AB would do what was best for her? I said of course I would. Later I found out that AB had gone home and that the IC mother would be staying the night. And, that they redoubled the lights on BB so that he could recover quickly. I was glad the IC mother would be staying with him because I knew that she could bear to leave him in that funny contraption!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Rtf3Tq9NaFDOyXGhmEjyLj6xFcGzdjO6M1FM80KyTKi0I1lMReSsW2U5_OQSAs0YPErq2el5siC9zP9rqNaLH5JCUXIyjaUEXznYLbjkbgLvZhdVwgE3xJ6SM6gS9Zh9kv_h6wn3M34/s1600/bili-bed.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Rtf3Tq9NaFDOyXGhmEjyLj6xFcGzdjO6M1FM80KyTKi0I1lMReSsW2U5_OQSAs0YPErq2el5siC9zP9rqNaLH5JCUXIyjaUEXznYLbjkbgLvZhdVwgE3xJ6SM6gS9Zh9kv_h6wn3M34/s400/bili-bed.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565143466012542386" border="0" /></a>As I drove home, I sensed my thoughts and emotions detaching a little from AB and BB and turning toward Aa, Punk, and Pea. For the last two hours of my drive, I just prayed and prayed (not solidly) that God would refill my completely drained cup so that I would have something to give my precious family when I arrived home. The kiddinkies were getting ready for bed and I had the sweet privilege of snuggling them while reading their books and then tucking them in. Once they were settled in bed, I practically sat on Aa's lap on the couch. I wanted as much of me to touch as much of him as possible. I felt like I had to soak him in, love and be loved by osmosis! We talked a little as we snuggled. I told him I felt as though I had spent every emotion and every emotional reserve I ever had. It was so good to just be, just be, together.<br /><br />So, now we wait. All the paperwork has to be processed by both the state of GA where he was born and the state of NC where he will live. It was all sent to GA on Wednesday (overnight) and we have not yet heard whether they have passed it on to NC. Please keep praying for a smooth process and that our family will be together again soon.Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04025241488328089376noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283000660063058850.post-70981108082664939032011-01-12T13:45:00.007-06:002011-01-12T17:49:49.405-06:00Round Two--The Never-Ending Story12 January 2011<br /><br />I guess I've been neglecting you blog-followers again. I'm so sorry. It's just that a lot has been going on here. I know, all the more reason to blog. But, it has been hard for me to sort out what to make public when. I tend to be an all-or-nothing kind of gal, and that is certainly true in the realm of blathering (tending much more toward the "all" than the "nothing" even though the blog belies me). Anyhow, blah, blah, blah, this is not the reason you read this blog (if any of you still do). So, let's get to the heart of the matter, shall we? But, first, do you have a box of tissues handy? This is about to get emotional.<br /><br />For about six months Aa and I have been considering that our home study would be expiring in January. If you've been reading for a long time, you remember that God gave me a promise that He would exceed my expectations about this adoption. However, Aa has had to take my word for that this very long time as God has not given him his own revelation. Granted, Aa felt that we were on the right track, that God led us to domestic adoption, etc., etc., etc. But, he was kinda living on bread alone (and the Word of God second-hand through me). So, this issue of renewing our home study (read "spending several hundred dollars more on this seemingly endless process") was a source of stress and even, I'll admit, division between us. I just couldn't see how we could let go of that promise from God (i.e., not renew our home study so we would be ready for anything) and he just couldn't see pouring more money into the adoption abyss. So, we prayed and prayed, and asked others to pray for us. And, we heard nothing.<br /><br />Meanwhile, several friends had mentioned that we might look into foster parenting. Well, we always shut them down. I felt strongly that God's promise had to do with birth parents (one of the main reasons we chose domestic over international adoption this time around) and, frankly, I was afraid of the sort of birth parents I assumed we'd be dealing with in the foster system. I also thought there would be no way I could get these aching-for-an-infant hand around a bitty baby through the system. So, we politely said, "No, that's not for us." Until... I suppose their prayers tipped the balance of our fears and the window opened and we peeked in. We began asking questions to these fostering-touting friends and eventually called DSS to find out more from the horse's mouth. Funny how knowledge makes fears seem so silly! When we got our questions answered, we found that we could probably be pretty good foster parents after all!<br /><br />So, on November 30 (see timeline to the right), a social worker from DSS came to our house and answered more questions and gave us reams of paperwork to fill out. After she left, Aa and I looked at each other and decided to go ahead and apply. BUT, there was still a hurdle for me, an emotional reining in. I had expected to feel definitely one way or the other about fostering after the meeting, but I didn't. I felt more like, "there's no reason not to" than excited or afraid. Still, I figured, we'll learn lots more at the classes we need to attend and maybe then the feelings will come.<br /><br />Then, ninety minutes after the DSS sw left, I was driving to the school to pick up the kids and my phone rang. It was our adoption agency in GA. I was sure she was calling to tell me our paperwork was expiring and that we needed to make a decision about whether to renew or not. But, she told me she was actually calling because another birth mom had chosen our family for her baby! You could have knocked me over with a feather (except that the seat in the car is pretty supportive). It was the last thing I had expected. I think I had really given up on that route. Of course, I cried and sputtered and tried to take in the details of the situation. Then I called Aa and cried and sputtered and tried to tell him some of the details.<br /><br />And, then, reality sunk in. Because of certain aspects of this situation, the adoption fees would be higher than we were anticipating. Plus, we would certainly have to renew our home study since the baby's due date was the same as our home study's expiration date! The financial pressure, right as Christmas was coming on full-steam, and just as Aa got himself a hernia that needed to be operated on right away, well, let's just say it was a little overwhelming. I'm usually the one who has all the faith in the world in financial things and I need Aa's realism to temper me. I was very afraid, though, that this time he would be wrong, that he would say, "We can't afford this; let's just pursue the foster thing." But, one day, he called me from work and said, "I would regret for the rest of my life if we passed up this opportunity just because of money. We'll make it happen. Whatever it takes, we'll make it happen." I'm crying again recounting this to you. And I just have to say on the public record that I know I am blessed beyond measure with this man of mine. There's no one else I'd rather have at the helm of my family.<br /><br />Now that we had made our decision, Satan decided it was time to really mess things up. Our agency then called to tell us there may be a problem with getting our state to agree to our taking custody of the child. The baby is in what they call a "legal risk" situation where the birth father hasn't signed relinquishment and the courts will have to terminate rights in his absence after the birth. This means there is a window of opportunity for him to come forward and claim the baby and we would have to surrender him to the father. Another family from our state was having trouble over that issue and until it was resolved, we couldn't proceed with our match. So, we began to pray and we asked many others to pray, and I know that other family was praying and gathering others to pray.<br /><br />It was touch-and-go for a few weeks, but finally the word came back that the other family had been approved and that we could go ahead with our plans to meet the birth mother on December 21st. My parents came to town for Christmas the weekend before that, so they took Punk and Pea to see a movie (in 3-D!!!) and to the indoor playground, while we traveled to GA and back in a day! As we drove up to the restaurant where we had planned to meet our birth mom and her case worker, the butterflies in my stomach took flight. Touch up the lipstick, stroke down the fly-away hairs, straighten the sweater, and... go! We walked in and two women were sitting there waiting, one middle-aged and one in her 20's with a darling baby bump. The latter woman stood up and came right to me with her arms open wide (oh, here comes an ugly cry--I'm glad y'all can't see me as I type this!). She wrapped herself around me in what can only be called an embrace and put her head on my chest and silently cried. She held on for what seemed like minutes. I have no idea how long it really was. But, if that was all that had happened that day, it would have been more than worth the 14 hours of driving. It was truly one of the most precious, salient moments of my life.<br /><br />We wound up talking for almost two hours, during which all four of us shed tears. She seemed to fully grasp how hard it would be to live without this baby in her arms, while at the same time recognizing the hope she was giving him. She showed us ultra-sound pictures, and despite US pics being what they are, I can confidently say this is the gol-darndest cutest baby being born in 2011! We asked her how she came to choose adoption for her son and she said that she'd made an appointment at the abortion clinic. But, when she went in there, she just couldn't do it. She said, "I can't do this to this baby; it's not the baby's fault." So, thank you to all of you who pray for women who plan to have abortions. Our baby's is one life you've been instrumental in saving.<br /><br />Also, she asked if I could be there for her while she labors and delivers the baby! I am so humbled and honored. I am very much looking forward to getting to know her better and to starting our relationship by serving her. No service could be sweeter to me. She is being induced THIS SATURDAY!!!! So, I am driving down Friday afternoon/evening so I'll be on hand in the morning. If you pray, please cover this incredible day (or two?!) in prayers.<br /><br />Aa made this beautiful memory box for our birth mom. I'll give it to her this weekend before the birth. It's sized perfectly to hold the photos and letters we will send about the baby.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi74W3ppUYUpRdbr7Ucq5jeyLvi0Ry1x0hPHs6qb2Dy_ne6dEwqwvuDpZ-Kzk6ppooAyqXRkivm34Egt6JnGqOOU3y_7bePwFQNVd6XHTQfjSx-vuxI-y01C4ZJ0Ks8JVRXVwxbLY6SKU8/s1600/DSC03953.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi74W3ppUYUpRdbr7Ucq5jeyLvi0Ry1x0hPHs6qb2Dy_ne6dEwqwvuDpZ-Kzk6ppooAyqXRkivm34Egt6JnGqOOU3y_7bePwFQNVd6XHTQfjSx-vuxI-y01C4ZJ0Ks8JVRXVwxbLY6SKU8/s400/DSC03953.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561405388128317474" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjy9Xs9nkFCiUorfcAdkEPVu2hQvUsNhk9nHQcjNlqCXvxiuabyyKfvsz4Jqs7AgEAryVP6bIqcf1-O2gNTnwQNKW9ZygVo0A4-U4TyCmMcoVU5Vzm2bKoO6-16b8P4tblw0HzsdD9f74/s1600/DSC03954_edited.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 379px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjy9Xs9nkFCiUorfcAdkEPVu2hQvUsNhk9nHQcjNlqCXvxiuabyyKfvsz4Jqs7AgEAryVP6bIqcf1-O2gNTnwQNKW9ZygVo0A4-U4TyCmMcoVU5Vzm2bKoO6-16b8P4tblw0HzsdD9f74/s400/DSC03954_edited.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561405380932857730" border="0" /></a>Now you're up to date! So, what happens next? Well, I'll have to come home and baby will go into interim care for about 10 days. Then, we'll go to GA, sign some papers, and bring our baby boy home! It's still hard for me to believe, even with the pack-n-play set up in our room and his drawers starting to fill with itty-bitty socks and such! It's been six and a half years since I've had a newborn!<br /><br />Oh, and we haven't closed the door on fostering either. It's plain to us that God drove us in that direction for a reason. So, at some point, maybe as soon as the fall, we will go ahead and begin fostering as well!<br /><br />And, I have a little homework for YOU! Birth mom and baby both need blog-names. Hit the "Comment" button to make suggestions! Thanks!Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04025241488328089376noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283000660063058850.post-43018273668472641622010-12-14T12:00:00.003-06:002010-12-14T18:52:31.709-06:00Hair stuff14 December 2010<br /><br />I was having a conversation with Pea's teacher on Friday about her hair and it inspired me to record a few things here.<br /><br />First of all, in the fall I put in yarn extensions, as usual. Well, it seems Pea has made friends with one of the lunchroom attendants--an African American man named Sam. When she showed up with her extensions, he commented how beautiful they were. Mrs. B (Pea's teacher) said, "Her mom put them in." To which Sam replied, "No way a white woman did that!" :) Can't ask for any higher praise than that!<br /><br />So, last weekend it was time to take them out. Her hair was so beautiful! I could hardly believe how long and full it has gotten since she first came home. Anyway, we all loved the look of the "braid out" so I let her wear it that way to church Sunday and school Monday. <br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><blockquote><span style="font-size:85%;">This first pic is a little blurry, sorry about that. I included it because it's a little truer to how her hair really looked than the second shot.</span></blockquote><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8LIAQ51JA0lIG5Kuh7MrdXMtF3TkHREOk9MYJQceWKZEIlrZBXai8zOm5IeHE7lUr9VwTJAMhJCMnM91nA2Mgnrfyj0mAgLO9Adeijuq53yI9nEYsxGXUVFFhLI8m7PgdYTGx36t4XLE/s1600/DSC03859_edited.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 388px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8LIAQ51JA0lIG5Kuh7MrdXMtF3TkHREOk9MYJQceWKZEIlrZBXai8zOm5IeHE7lUr9VwTJAMhJCMnM91nA2Mgnrfyj0mAgLO9Adeijuq53yI9nEYsxGXUVFFhLI8m7PgdYTGx36t4XLE/s400/DSC03859_edited.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5550704646110971266" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSeIYZzfXe2DVNc5pGecl5CyDatjSbQL6L8wnptWdyh0AlUaMlYX5_YzH7nDV2gtnfOBAxw6fHg29IuCceEMcU8_9xq4b7y1T9vw5TzhF-QDdNirPbcTSZPJJRNGuz2xZK-epsebNUDII/s1600/DSC03860_edited.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 312px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSeIYZzfXe2DVNc5pGecl5CyDatjSbQL6L8wnptWdyh0AlUaMlYX5_YzH7nDV2gtnfOBAxw6fHg29IuCceEMcU8_9xq4b7y1T9vw5TzhF-QDdNirPbcTSZPJJRNGuz2xZK-epsebNUDII/s400/DSC03860_edited.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5550704647486036402" border="0" /></a><br />But, I couldn't figure out how to keep it looking like this. (If you know, please tell me!) Monday evening I put in some simple box twists. And, for a little festive flair, we added jingle bells to each one. I was worried about it being annoying. But, if you don't mind the sound of beads, you won't mind the bells. They are pretty quiet.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Cx7SyqN8GSXg-R5JA8wSC5fsfc7-CdIbjoShyphenhyphengz0q-jGMD9HKVux3OsdnPgZ-ycMSF-JLRyMA9UYnCOg6e-9Gzz-0dSWJDS5QCZKyddw7fF_uDVFc2lmWzmn-F12RvTznHuoFOSKqWI/s1600/DSC03868.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Cx7SyqN8GSXg-R5JA8wSC5fsfc7-CdIbjoShyphenhyphengz0q-jGMD9HKVux3OsdnPgZ-ycMSF-JLRyMA9UYnCOg6e-9Gzz-0dSWJDS5QCZKyddw7fF_uDVFc2lmWzmn-F12RvTznHuoFOSKqWI/s400/DSC03868.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5550704638989582098" border="0" /></a><br />I really want to get her into microbraids that will become locs. But, since locs are permanent and all, I'm waiting till I can take her to a salon to have it done. It'll be a fun way to kick off 2011!Raehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04025241488328089376noreply@blogger.com0