The temptation to try and recreate my Albuquerque life here in Cleveland has been almost overwhelming at times. Of course we'll have to find a doctor and dentist (if we ever get insurance cards...), and a church goes without saying, but I spent a fair amount of time trying to figure out the right search terms to find a nice library stitching group, a great home school art class for Katie, and a church with an adoption ministry. Although we definitely wanted to move closer to family and felt like it was the right time, I liked my life in Albuquerque.
Instead, we are looking at a monumental life change, and I don't mean moving to Cleveland (that ship has sailed). When I first knew we might move to Cleveland, I searched for a Mandarin immersion program. I've always said I would home school unless the kids had the chance to do a language program, and lo and behold, Ohio's only Mandarin immersion school is in Cleveland...on the West Side...10 minutes from our house. When I thought we were moving to the East Side, it was out, and when we moved here in July, I thought it was out because we'd missed the lottery. I still clicked on the website one day, and I was quite surprised to discover it is not out of the question. They are enrolling K-2nd grade in the Mandarin program, and it starts August 9.
I was home schooled all the way through, so I have absolutely ZERO experience with public school. Katie is a bit outside the optimal window for an immersion program, so it would probably be a pretty challenging year for her. With everyone in transition and no support group, part of me thinks I'm crazy for changing things up so much. At the same time, MANDARIN IMMERSION!! How can I pass this up for our family, with all the China connections, and our desire to live there some day! And Luke/Liz/Titus would be in on the ground floor, learning Mandarin during the optimal time.
I am trying to remember that although moving closer to family was the original impetus for moving, maybe God brought us to Cleveland for more than just a shorter drive and a closer relationship with them. As the strangeness of it all presses in, I want the familiar around me--knitters and a home school group and my adoption people and everything else I had back home. Instead, I get a totally new experience to help me remember to be open to God's plans...which right now, look like an immersion public school!
Showing posts with label musings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label musings. Show all posts
Sunday, July 23, 2017
Monday, June 13, 2016
Summer of Four
I had great plans for this summer. After all, it's the first summer I've had four kids, and the thought of all of them trashing my house every day was a little scary. I was going to have a schedule for the week, with special time for each child, and lots of fun activities out of the house like using our zoo membership or going to the splash park. I imagined all these when we were about a month out from finishing preschool. Then one day I woke up with a sore throat, and the next day I started running a fever, and 24 days later I'm finally better.
Frankly, it's such a novelty to have energy for activities besides subsistence, I think I could take on the world right now. Unfortunately, I'm not sure I have time between everything that has come up this summer. Piano lessons, speech therapy, a VBS week here and there, summer travel--I think we'll hit Titus's last surgery (August 15) before I can catch my breath. And then school starts. Boom.
Not to mention ALL the things that piled up when I took a hit for 24 days. Nothing with imminent deadlines (thankfully), but still...my long term to-do list was quite neglected.
The post I wrote about plans has come to mind a lot in the last few days, and not just because that was my last thought before surgery + illness derailed everything. I am still thinking about that same tension between order and real life, but it'll be a good summer to practice being a little more relaxed about it too. We can definitely take this summer one day at a time, and have fun doing whatever happens to come up that day. Like a picnic at the playground during piano lessons. Or playing house in the bedroom while Titus has speech therapy. Or improptu outdoor dinners with after dinner gymnastics entertainment. This summer, we will pursue memories instead of plans.
Frankly, it's such a novelty to have energy for activities besides subsistence, I think I could take on the world right now. Unfortunately, I'm not sure I have time between everything that has come up this summer. Piano lessons, speech therapy, a VBS week here and there, summer travel--I think we'll hit Titus's last surgery (August 15) before I can catch my breath. And then school starts. Boom.
Not to mention ALL the things that piled up when I took a hit for 24 days. Nothing with imminent deadlines (thankfully), but still...my long term to-do list was quite neglected.
The post I wrote about plans has come to mind a lot in the last few days, and not just because that was my last thought before surgery + illness derailed everything. I am still thinking about that same tension between order and real life, but it'll be a good summer to practice being a little more relaxed about it too. We can definitely take this summer one day at a time, and have fun doing whatever happens to come up that day. Like a picnic at the playground during piano lessons. Or playing house in the bedroom while Titus has speech therapy. Or improptu outdoor dinners with after dinner gymnastics entertainment. This summer, we will pursue memories instead of plans.
Sunday, May 8, 2016
Baby Dedications with a Toddler
This morning our church held a baby dedication, and based on these pictures, someone felt perfectly fine with standing up in front of everyone.
They are a bit blurry, but you can see Titus attempting to make a run for it and doing his best Sumo wrestler impersonation. Of course, he was not interested in being held AT ALL, and based on all the tugging, what he really wanted to do was run around the stage.
Titus has been doing well, aside from the diet restrictions (liquids till Monday, then soft foods like yogurt and purees until Wednesday). His "Mama" already sounds more clear, and I'm excited to see what kind of progress he will make in speech once everything is healed up.
Of course the baby dedication was held to coincide with Mothers Day. Maybe I have a lot more adoption friends in my facebook feed, or maybe it's because I know of some people who have lost mothers in the last year (although, I'm sure that happens every year), but this time, it's a little bittersweet. I keep thinking about the mothers who will not be celebrating with their sweet child today, especially the ones who have contributed to my motherhood. How do you celebrate something so full of both joy and sorrow? It's a hard lesson to teach my kids, and one that will probably be taught sooner rather than later, thanks to our conspicuous family.
But there is always hope. Our service this morning began with Joy of the Lord by Rend Collective. That's how we manage to make it through this whole life, fraught with pain but filled with joy too. And I will teach my kids to look to the One who will, one day, make all things right.
They are a bit blurry, but you can see Titus attempting to make a run for it and doing his best Sumo wrestler impersonation. Of course, he was not interested in being held AT ALL, and based on all the tugging, what he really wanted to do was run around the stage.
Titus has been doing well, aside from the diet restrictions (liquids till Monday, then soft foods like yogurt and purees until Wednesday). His "Mama" already sounds more clear, and I'm excited to see what kind of progress he will make in speech once everything is healed up.
Of course the baby dedication was held to coincide with Mothers Day. Maybe I have a lot more adoption friends in my facebook feed, or maybe it's because I know of some people who have lost mothers in the last year (although, I'm sure that happens every year), but this time, it's a little bittersweet. I keep thinking about the mothers who will not be celebrating with their sweet child today, especially the ones who have contributed to my motherhood. How do you celebrate something so full of both joy and sorrow? It's a hard lesson to teach my kids, and one that will probably be taught sooner rather than later, thanks to our conspicuous family.
But there is always hope. Our service this morning began with Joy of the Lord by Rend Collective. That's how we manage to make it through this whole life, fraught with pain but filled with joy too. And I will teach my kids to look to the One who will, one day, make all things right.
Sunday, November 29, 2015
Thanksgiving Day
Every year we write out what we are thankful for on Thanksgiving Day. Of course, given my family, it's not as easy as it sounds. We have to make everything fit in our acrostic...it's definitely interesting to hear what everyone comes up with for two "I" words. Of course there are many, many things to be thankful for, but here are the highlights, fit to "Thanksgiving Day."
The Art of Celebration by Rend Collective
Hearing Lizzie talk and laugh
Another year with Susie near
Nights out with new friends and old
Katie learning new things
Symphony of chemistry*
God’s voice and direction
Incredible husband who is perfect for me
Voyages, safe and fun
Imbibing coffee every day
New son and nephew
God’s family around us (the church)
Delicious preserved foods
A little boy who loves to read (Luke)
Yarn relaxation
*I remember my mom saying people would ask my dad if he ever got tired of teaching the same chemistry classes every year. If anyone ever asked me that question, I'd respond by asking if they think musicians get tired of playing Beethoven's 5th symphony. Every time I teach through the chapter on electron configuration, I'm amazed again at the incredible beauty and order in atomic structure. Teaching chemistry is like rehearsing the symphony God has written into creation.
Thursday, November 19, 2015
Still Waiting
Although not ideal, mornings seem to be the best time to blog. It's not ideal because morning is also a) the best time to do everything else, and b) I am surrounded by loud little people. Oh well.
But every morning for the last week, when I've thought about writing, I've also thought to myself, "If I wait until 9AM (when our agency opens), maybe I can report that we've received TA!" And every morning, 9AM has come and gone with no news. It's an interesting dynamic to be on China time here in the US, because our TA will be (has been?) issued in the middle of the night for us. It's the same dynamic that makes you sad when Friday rolls around (China offices are closed), and happy when it's Sunday night (they are open!).
So maybe today we'll hear, since I've finally sat down to write. :)
I'm also hoping to get some new pictures (and maybe even video) of Titus. I'm excited but also a tiny bit apprehensive about getting them. When you do the training for adoption, there's a section on processing grief. Although there is joy in creating a new family, adoption doesn't happen without loss first...loss of birth family, birth country, other things...it can be a lifelong process for adopted kids to fully process all that.
But the training talks about some potential sources for grief on the side of adoptive parents too, like missing out on the first 18 months of your baby's life. With Liz, I didn't feel that as much--maybe because we'd just experienced all the baby stuff with Luke (for the second time). This time, though, I keep noticing all these babies in different stages and feeling really sad that I'm missing that stage with Titus. I know he's grown (a lot, I hope!) since the last pictures and videos, but I think it'll be hard to see how much we've missed too.
But every morning for the last week, when I've thought about writing, I've also thought to myself, "If I wait until 9AM (when our agency opens), maybe I can report that we've received TA!" And every morning, 9AM has come and gone with no news. It's an interesting dynamic to be on China time here in the US, because our TA will be (has been?) issued in the middle of the night for us. It's the same dynamic that makes you sad when Friday rolls around (China offices are closed), and happy when it's Sunday night (they are open!).
So maybe today we'll hear, since I've finally sat down to write. :)
I'm also hoping to get some new pictures (and maybe even video) of Titus. I'm excited but also a tiny bit apprehensive about getting them. When you do the training for adoption, there's a section on processing grief. Although there is joy in creating a new family, adoption doesn't happen without loss first...loss of birth family, birth country, other things...it can be a lifelong process for adopted kids to fully process all that.
But the training talks about some potential sources for grief on the side of adoptive parents too, like missing out on the first 18 months of your baby's life. With Liz, I didn't feel that as much--maybe because we'd just experienced all the baby stuff with Luke (for the second time). This time, though, I keep noticing all these babies in different stages and feeling really sad that I'm missing that stage with Titus. I know he's grown (a lot, I hope!) since the last pictures and videos, but I think it'll be hard to see how much we've missed too.
Monday, October 26, 2015
The Art of Celebration
There was a time when I got in the habit of reviewing at the end of each day. I would analyze what I accomplished, how the kids behaved, how I behaved, my energy level...the metrics are endless. By those metrics, some days were worth
celebrating, and some days, not so much:
In truth, these are the little things…the results of a three-ring circus living at my house (soon to be four!)
--My head pounding from equal
measures of reining it in and blowing my top (all before 9 in the morning!).
--Every time I had turned around that
morning, Luke and Liz had been at each the other's throat (probably because I
tried to get too much done instead of spending time with them).
--David came home to every single toy
strewn across the floor.
In truth, these are the little things…the results of a three-ring circus living at my house (soon to be four!)
There are other days that are even
harder to celebrate: the day you get the
phone call, the diagnosis, the news.
Earthquakes and fires and hurricanes.
Violence in the streets again. Hearing Liz cry out my name during the night, and
wishing I had been there to comfort her earlier; wondering why we live in a
world where adoption is necessary.
These evaluations colored my
days—good days, bad days—and it was a struggle until I listened to my favorite CD again. One of my favorite songs on
it is Boldly I Approach, and this is what I figured out from listening to it:
I'm doing it all wrong.
(Surprise, surprise) There is an art to
celebration, and the art lies in choosing what to celebrate. When I seek
to celebrate myself and my accomplishments, or my kids and their
accomplishments, guess what? There will always be days with nothing to
celebrate. And if my celebrations depend
on things ‘going well,’ what will I do when they don’t?
But there is someone whose
accomplishments are worth celebrating.
Someone who never fails to do what He set out to do. The One who made the day good in the first
place.
When we choose to celebrate all
that God has done, we can celebrate every day from now through eternity.
Now, these are the things I try to celebrate:
God has won the victory already.
His mercies are new every morning.
He loves me no matter what happens.
He has made me free from
condemnation.
He has made an end to all my sin
(even though some days it doesn't feel like it, it's still TRUE)
I stand blameless before Him
through Jesus Christ.
These are the celebrations that
carry us through our failures, the celebrations that comfort us during times of distress. These are the celebrations we will continue
in heaven, when we reach the shore.
This is the art of celebration
Knowing we're free from condemnation
Oh praise the One, praise the One
Who made an end to all my sin
[x2]
Knowing we're free from condemnation
Oh praise the One, praise the One
Who made an end to all my sin
[x2]
Saturday, October 17, 2015
The Antidote to Fear
A year ago, I was not sure I wanted to adopt again.
I was in the middle of a rough semester--a new class I didn't enjoy teaching (with a larger work load than I was used to), some other things going on that were anxiety-inducing, and parenting a two, three, and four year old. The pace was relentless, but each day felt endless.
I knew we'd always planned to have four kids (at least), and we wanted to adopt a little boy from China the next time. My heart had been there, but I just wasn't really feeling it. After all, toddler is not my absolute favorite stage thus far, and don't even get me started on potty training for the fourth time.
Maybe three was enough.
The truth is, I was afraid. Afraid that four kids would be too much for me (whatever that means), that I'd discover new depths of frustration and impatience, and that I'd take it out on them. Despite how difficult I'd found things to be, Liz's adoption had so many things that went well! She bonded, she was barely delayed developmentally, we didn't have to worry about much medical stuff at all...surely doing this again would only be harder. Surely God would make it harder this time.
And there is the insidious nature of fear. In my case, my fear led me to cast God as the adversary. He would lead us into another adoption, and then make it even harder, even more challenging. Surely He had already given us all the blessings, all the answered prayers in Liz's adoption. I just didn't feel up for the fight to do it right, to learn from Liz's adoption, and to be the kind of parent I knew I should be for another child.
My thoughts traveled around and around these ideas until we drove home for Christmas: twenty hours driving there, and eighteen hours driving back, not to mention the six hours in between homes. I do most of the driving on these trips, so I actually had some time to think and listen to a lot of music. We got Rend Collective's "The Art of Celebration" and although I'd listened to their music, I was really able to concentrate on the words during the long drive home.
These songs finally made me realize how messed up my thinking had become. God wouldn't give me a challenge and then sit back to watch how I handled it. No, He would be there fighting with me and for me. Why would He dole out His blessing in small measures...the delight I feel in giving to my children is nothing compared to what He feels about me! While I felt like these experiences tore me down, He was actually shaping me to be more like Him. It hurts to have the dross burned out. But I know He is glorified through it.
The antidote to fear is to speak (or sing) the truth about God:
I was in the middle of a rough semester--a new class I didn't enjoy teaching (with a larger work load than I was used to), some other things going on that were anxiety-inducing, and parenting a two, three, and four year old. The pace was relentless, but each day felt endless.
I knew we'd always planned to have four kids (at least), and we wanted to adopt a little boy from China the next time. My heart had been there, but I just wasn't really feeling it. After all, toddler is not my absolute favorite stage thus far, and don't even get me started on potty training for the fourth time.
Maybe three was enough.
The truth is, I was afraid. Afraid that four kids would be too much for me (whatever that means), that I'd discover new depths of frustration and impatience, and that I'd take it out on them. Despite how difficult I'd found things to be, Liz's adoption had so many things that went well! She bonded, she was barely delayed developmentally, we didn't have to worry about much medical stuff at all...surely doing this again would only be harder. Surely God would make it harder this time.
And there is the insidious nature of fear. In my case, my fear led me to cast God as the adversary. He would lead us into another adoption, and then make it even harder, even more challenging. Surely He had already given us all the blessings, all the answered prayers in Liz's adoption. I just didn't feel up for the fight to do it right, to learn from Liz's adoption, and to be the kind of parent I knew I should be for another child.
My thoughts traveled around and around these ideas until we drove home for Christmas: twenty hours driving there, and eighteen hours driving back, not to mention the six hours in between homes. I do most of the driving on these trips, so I actually had some time to think and listen to a lot of music. We got Rend Collective's "The Art of Celebration" and although I'd listened to their music, I was really able to concentrate on the words during the long drive home.
These songs finally made me realize how messed up my thinking had become. God wouldn't give me a challenge and then sit back to watch how I handled it. No, He would be there fighting with me and for me. Why would He dole out His blessing in small measures...the delight I feel in giving to my children is nothing compared to what He feels about me! While I felt like these experiences tore me down, He was actually shaping me to be more like Him. It hurts to have the dross burned out. But I know He is glorified through it.
The antidote to fear is to speak (or sing) the truth about God:
We were born for greater things, We were born to chase Your dreams
Your great love will lead me through
In view of Your matchless sacrifice, Take every treasure, take this life
Yeah, you lift me when I'm sinking
Like the swell of mighty oceans
The power of redemption
Yeah, it gives me wings to soar
Like the swell of mighty oceans
The power of redemption
Yeah, it gives me wings to soar
You're not finished with me yet
By Your power I can change, I can change
'Cause You're not finished with me yet
By Your power I can change, I can change
'Cause You're not finished with me yet
Jesus, my soul is fearless
For You are with us
Fighting for us
In the valley of shadows
You are still with us
Fighting for us
For You are with us
Fighting for us
In the valley of shadows
You are still with us
Fighting for us
Oh praise the One who fights for me
And shields my soul eternally
And shields my soul eternally
Of course, you know it took a few more months to come around, but that drive was the beginning of my thaw...to turn away from the fear and seek the path God wanted for me and for our family. At the moment, I'm getting a little nervous at how little time I'll have between finishing my class and leaving for China (and don't get me started on my 'little' church project), but I can honestly say I don't feel afraid any more.
Tuesday, July 28, 2015
The Peace of God in a Very Loud House
As I chopped the butternut squash and carrots for dinner (a from-scratch one!), I marveled at how quietly Luke and Katie played together (Liz was still napping). When Liz plays, whatever I'm doing is punctuated by high volume communication, breaks to remind someone to use words instead of loud noises, and rhetorical questions/answers (no, you may not play with buttons...what is this library book doing on the floor?!).
(this is what happened in the last two minutes of trying to write the above paragraph...add in "she just kicked me" to the sound of whining and screams)
So, back to the squash and carrots...
Along with thoughts of how quietly they played, I thought how this (quietly preparing dinner) could be my life if we hadn't adopted Liz. It's not a very practical train of thought, since a) we have Liz, b) we're doing this again, and c) a lot of this is just life with a 2-year-old. But after dallying in that moment, I realized a few things.
At first I thought, "Wow, my life would be so peaceful if this was it!" And without Liz, my life would certainly have less noise in it. And a lot less of the following phrase: "Use your words!" I might even like cooking again.
But then I realized, that's not a peaceful life...it would be a comfortable life. We'd still have a little car, I'd be done potty-training kids, we'd be on our way to jet-setting vacations (maybe).
And I realized we do have peace in our life. It's just the "peace that passes understanding" kind, not the quiet days kind.
The peace of knowing God makes His call clear to us.
The peace of seeing how He provides for us.
The peace of living in answered prayers.
The peace of trusting He will carry us through the next adoption too.
And every time I say to David, "I can't believe we're doing this again," I try to remember that 2-year-old volume levels don't last forever, and that without Liz, there would be less laughter too.
(this is what happened in the last two minutes of trying to write the above paragraph...add in "she just kicked me" to the sound of whining and screams)
So, back to the squash and carrots...
Along with thoughts of how quietly they played, I thought how this (quietly preparing dinner) could be my life if we hadn't adopted Liz. It's not a very practical train of thought, since a) we have Liz, b) we're doing this again, and c) a lot of this is just life with a 2-year-old. But after dallying in that moment, I realized a few things.
At first I thought, "Wow, my life would be so peaceful if this was it!" And without Liz, my life would certainly have less noise in it. And a lot less of the following phrase: "Use your words!" I might even like cooking again.
But then I realized, that's not a peaceful life...it would be a comfortable life. We'd still have a little car, I'd be done potty-training kids, we'd be on our way to jet-setting vacations (maybe).
And I realized we do have peace in our life. It's just the "peace that passes understanding" kind, not the quiet days kind.
The peace of knowing God makes His call clear to us.
The peace of seeing how He provides for us.
The peace of living in answered prayers.
The peace of trusting He will carry us through the next adoption too.
And every time I say to David, "I can't believe we're doing this again," I try to remember that 2-year-old volume levels don't last forever, and that without Liz, there would be less laughter too.
Sunday, May 31, 2015
Summer Waters
Fantasy novels often use the construct of the four elements (fire, water, earth, air) in their world-building efforts. As a kid I knew that a) I could totally nail whatever fantasy world I was sent to if it ever happened to me, and b) if I had to choose an element, it'd be water. The whole "I don't really like swimming" doesn't fit, but if I could control it, then maybe I'd like it more. And there are many aspects of water that I do like. As I studied chemistry, it sealed the deal for me. (Water is very cool from a molecular standpoint)
Perhaps this is why water metaphors seem to fit well in my life. Last fall really felt like I was going down a raging river, trying to keep my head above the water (one of the reasons it was hard to sit down and blog). Still getting used to three kids, teaching a class for the first time, back to our regular schedule...I may have tried to do a little too much. :)
My Christmas break was a bit of calm, and you know, kids do eventually get older, stop yelling at each other all the time, and start playing together in a somewhat cute fashion. So our spring semester was a bit less underwater and more like riding down the river in a raft. Still raging, still rapids, but at least I had a paddle and could do a little navigating. We enjoyed a few family visits, had some people over for dinner, and I got to take a trip (by myself!!) to a friend's wedding.
But having something(s) every single day of the week is relentless, and we have finally reached the end of the rapids. As I lean back in the raft and breathe a sigh of relief, I'm looking forward to a summer with very few outside responsibilities. Teaching is done, preschool is done, sunday school is done...which is fine, since I have quite a few projects planned before #4 shows up.
And blogging is up there--there was a good chance my next post would be a picture of our little guy, but like many things, it's not hard to begin again if you just sit down and do it.
Perhaps this is why water metaphors seem to fit well in my life. Last fall really felt like I was going down a raging river, trying to keep my head above the water (one of the reasons it was hard to sit down and blog). Still getting used to three kids, teaching a class for the first time, back to our regular schedule...I may have tried to do a little too much. :)
My Christmas break was a bit of calm, and you know, kids do eventually get older, stop yelling at each other all the time, and start playing together in a somewhat cute fashion. So our spring semester was a bit less underwater and more like riding down the river in a raft. Still raging, still rapids, but at least I had a paddle and could do a little navigating. We enjoyed a few family visits, had some people over for dinner, and I got to take a trip (by myself!!) to a friend's wedding.
But having something(s) every single day of the week is relentless, and we have finally reached the end of the rapids. As I lean back in the raft and breathe a sigh of relief, I'm looking forward to a summer with very few outside responsibilities. Teaching is done, preschool is done, sunday school is done...which is fine, since I have quite a few projects planned before #4 shows up.
And blogging is up there--there was a good chance my next post would be a picture of our little guy, but like many things, it's not hard to begin again if you just sit down and do it.
Monday, January 12, 2015
The Midst of the Storm
I wrote last fall about hearing Lighthouse on the radio at a point when I was feeling pretty overwhelmed. Here are some of the lyrics to the song:
In my wrestling and in my doubts
In my failures You won't walk out
Your great love will lead me through
You are the peace in my troubled sea
You are the peace in my troubled sea
My Lighthouse, my lighthouse
Shining in the darkness, I will follow You
My Lighthouse, my Lighthouse
I will trust the promise,
You will carry me safe to shore (Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)
Safe to shore (Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)
Safe to shore (Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)
Safe to shore
When I heard that song, I felt encouraged that the storm I was in (transitioning to 3 children, adjusting to life with Liz) would end at some point, and I'd reach a nice, calm shore where things were 'better.'
I wish I could say I've reached that shore, but as I listened to the song during our long drive home, I kind of realized that the storm I'm in is probably life on this earth. Even if things became absolutely perfect with Liz (what does that even mean?), something else would happen. All three of my children will be a challenge to me at every stage of their lives, I'm sure. Even if they aren't, I'm still an imperfect work-in-progress. Some of the deaths we've experienced over the last six months show that even when things are relatively calm, trouble can strike at any moment.
So the promise is not so much that the seas will calm, but that there will be peace in the MIDST of the storm. Peace found not in our circumstances or our behavior, but in God's promises to us. And of course, one of those promises is that someday, the storm really will end, and we will find perfect peace in His actual presence.
So the last verse makes a little more sense now. We don't fear the storm, not because it's not there, or because it'll end soon, but because God's love brings peace in the midst of it.
I won't fear what tomorrow brings
With each morning I'll rise and sing
My God's love will lead me through
You are the peace in my troubled sea
You are the peace in my troubled sea
In my wrestling and in my doubts
In my failures You won't walk out
Your great love will lead me through
You are the peace in my troubled sea
You are the peace in my troubled sea
My Lighthouse, my lighthouse
Shining in the darkness, I will follow You
My Lighthouse, my Lighthouse
I will trust the promise,
You will carry me safe to shore (Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)
Safe to shore (Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)
Safe to shore (Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)
Safe to shore
When I heard that song, I felt encouraged that the storm I was in (transitioning to 3 children, adjusting to life with Liz) would end at some point, and I'd reach a nice, calm shore where things were 'better.'
I wish I could say I've reached that shore, but as I listened to the song during our long drive home, I kind of realized that the storm I'm in is probably life on this earth. Even if things became absolutely perfect with Liz (what does that even mean?), something else would happen. All three of my children will be a challenge to me at every stage of their lives, I'm sure. Even if they aren't, I'm still an imperfect work-in-progress. Some of the deaths we've experienced over the last six months show that even when things are relatively calm, trouble can strike at any moment.
So the promise is not so much that the seas will calm, but that there will be peace in the MIDST of the storm. Peace found not in our circumstances or our behavior, but in God's promises to us. And of course, one of those promises is that someday, the storm really will end, and we will find perfect peace in His actual presence.
So the last verse makes a little more sense now. We don't fear the storm, not because it's not there, or because it'll end soon, but because God's love brings peace in the midst of it.
I won't fear what tomorrow brings
With each morning I'll rise and sing
My God's love will lead me through
You are the peace in my troubled sea
You are the peace in my troubled sea
Friday, October 10, 2014
October? What?
Oh, hello there, October...where did you come from? We've already completed an awesome weekend trip to Chicago (Wheaton 10 year reunion!), and Luke's birthday has come and gone. Now I can say I have a 4, 3, and 2 year old, instead of the longer "Luke will be 3 in October, and Liz turned 2 in August." (Wait for it...why yes, I did have two 2-year-olds)
Our life is still crazy. It's very hard not to consider all the things I should have done differently, or ponder what I did not know when I made our schedule, like the fact that my class has twice the grading compared to what I've taught in the past. All these little things have added up to what feels like a crazy juggling act on my part.
Instead, I'm trying really hard to work with what I have, right now, and make it a little less crazy. We've rearranged Katie's preschool schedule to free up one morning, and I'm starting to say no (instead of yes) to everything again. Sorry, choir, maybe next semester.
It boils down to this really challenging attempt to live and love each day for what it is. My constant temptation is to 'get through it' until things get better, but I'm reminded of the old woman's gift--a top that speeds up life. As the young man uses it to get through the 'bad' parts of life, he finds that all of sudden, he has reached the end of life without actually living it.
These days of high-pitched loud noises are the days God wants me to live right now, and why would I give up this lovely opportunity to practice patience and grace towards my children? Ha ha. More like a reminder of how God's mercies are new every morning, and we all get to try again tomorrow.
Our life is still crazy. It's very hard not to consider all the things I should have done differently, or ponder what I did not know when I made our schedule, like the fact that my class has twice the grading compared to what I've taught in the past. All these little things have added up to what feels like a crazy juggling act on my part.
Instead, I'm trying really hard to work with what I have, right now, and make it a little less crazy. We've rearranged Katie's preschool schedule to free up one morning, and I'm starting to say no (instead of yes) to everything again. Sorry, choir, maybe next semester.
It boils down to this really challenging attempt to live and love each day for what it is. My constant temptation is to 'get through it' until things get better, but I'm reminded of the old woman's gift--a top that speeds up life. As the young man uses it to get through the 'bad' parts of life, he finds that all of sudden, he has reached the end of life without actually living it.
These days of high-pitched loud noises are the days God wants me to live right now, and why would I give up this lovely opportunity to practice patience and grace towards my children? Ha ha. More like a reminder of how God's mercies are new every morning, and we all get to try again tomorrow.
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
The Blogging Convergance
I knew if I didn't start writing about the last six months, it would never happen, and that interesting chapter of my life would fade away into confused memories. But, I also kind of forgot that my life is crazy right now. The whole kids/husband/house/cooking/teaching/knitting-so-I-don't-go-crazy-and-maybe-I'll-post-what-I've-knit-on-my-shop/oh-and-sleep mix is still quite in flux.
Last Wednesday a friend and I were commiserating over our inability to even find time to sit down and think about how to make our lives less crazy. We are doing a study based on Ann Voskamps' book, "One Thousand Gifts," and last week was specifically about getting off the crazy train and enjoying every moment as they come. Hah.
For the next post in the story line to happen, I need the convergence of time, energy, and coherent thought. That last one seems to be in short supply and high demand when you have three kids. What am I saying...they all are. :)
While I ponder (and try to remember what happened next), I'll leave you with this song. My sister got me a ticket to see Keith and Kristin Getty in concert over the weekend. It was incredible (if you have the chance to see them, do not hesitate), and this is one of the songs they sang.
My day-to-day functions feel deeply mired in the mundane...the minutiae of caring for small children, or a house, or a job, or whatever fills your life can be overwhelming. It is a challenge to remember that woven through and in the mundane is the profound truth of God. It is stunning to consider this: the worth of something is measured in the price that was paid, and the price paid for my little life was the blood of Jesus Christ.
Friday, September 12, 2014
Tell the Stories, Part 2: Mistakes
I'm looking at Liz right now. She's gotten her baby set up so she can 'read' a book to her. She's babbling away, and just grabbed her baby's hand to point at a picture. What a change from 6 months ago, when she had no idea what to do with books or babies.
I definitely made some mistakes that contributed to my malaise. In hindsight, I want to go back and shake myself. :)
1. We cleared our whole schedule in preparation for Liz coming, and that was the first mistake. We didn't want to take Liz a lot of places at the beginning, so I was home most days. We also didn't want to put her in childcare for at least a few months, so no Bible study for me, and every other week I had her in the cry room for the sermon. I think most people wanted to give us space, which is good and what the books say to do, but that meant I was home alone in a challenging situation with three kids most of the time. Don't do that! You'll go crazy!
David had plenty of vacation. He easily could have stayed home on Wednesday mornings so I could go to Bible study. I also should have asked more people to come over and hang out with me. And, you know, I wasn't blogging as an outlet either. :)
2. I wanted to be open and flexible to how Liz would react and behave when we go home, but I should have made a schedule for our days. This is classic new baby, I'm out of ideas and going crazy 101, but when you're sleep deprived and actually feel crazy, you forget these things. So I'd just hang out with the kids and by 10, I'd be thinking, "it's only 10?!" A basic schedule would have been helpful for all of us.
3. I was between knitting projects, and I stopped working out because I didn't know how to run with three kids, and I was tired. I tried to run, once, but it didn't work very well. Here are two things that make me happier and less stressed, and I wasn't doing them. I should have had a big, mindless knitting project ready for when I get home. If I'd had a schedule that included "Go for a walk," that would have taken care of the exercising.
So I basically removed from my life all the things that would help me stay sane. Why would you do that?! We'd have good days and bad days. When I was at a loss for what to do, or feeling crazy, I ended up drifting over to the iPad and binge reading books or finding something to play. Not that reading is bad (obviously), and candy crush in moderation is fine, but escapism wasn't addressing the problems at all.
I remember getting in the car one night to drive to choir, and "My Lighthouse" was playing. It really struck a chord--I was out to sea, but I was NOT alone.
Wednesday, September 10, 2014
Tell the Stories, Part 1
...continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill his good purpose.
Phil. 2:12b-13
This is a long story, hence the "Part 1." It's basically the story of the first few months that Liz came home (which is a big gap in this blog!), but it's also an ongoing story. I mean, it's really the story of my life, in that verse right there, which tends to come to the fore from time to time.
But every story has to start to be told, so here's the start of it...
When we got home with Liz, I remember telling people at church how everything was going amazingly well, considering all that could go wrong. And it really was--Liz had already bonded well with us, the kids were doing great with her, and her development was so much farther along that we expected. I know so many people prayed for us and for Liz, and all those prayers were answered.
I think by the end of the first month home, the glow had worn off and I was beginning to feel pretty overwhelmed. Looking back, I can definitely see some of the mistakes I made in terms of how I spent my time (or didn't spend my time). I think a lot of people would agree with me that the transition from two to three kids is hard, and I jumped in with the whole international adoption thing too.
Here's the thing...it wasn't that bad. In the grand scheme of things, I would step back and think, "things could be so much worse." And in that perspective, I felt like I was really failing, because if I was so overwhelmed and struggling with such an 'easy' adoption, what would it be like if we'd had a really hard one?
I wondered if maybe God gave me a simple adoption because he knew I wouldn't be able to handle anything more complicated. I wanted to feel like I could walk on water, but instead I felt like I was drowning and there was no strength to pull me up.
And I wanted it all fixed. I wanted the second half of that verse up there. I wanted God to do His thing, give me the joy, make it all better. After all, that was the deal. We do this crazy thing, and God gives us the strength to deal with everything that goes down.
Of course, I kind of ignored the first part of the verse...
Monday, August 25, 2014
Only the beginning
On Saturday, we went to a friend's birthday party. They had some little games for the kids, and the winners received prizes. Katie did not win, and I definitely noticed how well she handled herself at the party. There was no fussing or complaining; as far as I could tell, she didn't even notice that she didn't win anything. I kind of forgot about it, but as she was getting ready for bath, the tears started coming.
"Mommy, I didn't win a special treat!" "I wish I were (the little girl who did win)" Copious tears, grief, pain...breaking my heart.
It was such a little thing, and no, we don't really need more coloring books at our house. My first thought, of course, was "I can fix this!" But the teachable moment won out, and we had a chance to talk about what happens when things don't go your way.
Because all I could think, as she cried in my lap, was how this is probably the first in a long line of endless disappointments for her. Sometimes, it will be because mentally or physically, she didn't cut it (like the games at the party). There will always be someone smarter or faster. But at least as many times, if not more, it will be no fault of hers at all. She will simply not be what they are looking for in a role, in a job, in a spouse.
When Katie said she wanted to be the other little girl who won, my first thought was to compare. "Well, she doesn't have a little sister, and you do." But comparison is not the answer, because you're putting someone down to feel better. Susan pointed out later that if I can teach Katie to find her worth in the fact that God created her just the way she is, it'll help with the "not cutting it" situation. But that wasn't on my mind on Saturday.
As she sat on my lap, I told Katie that in the end, God had a better plan for her.
Whatever plans she makes in her life, God knows the one that will best for her, and He'll guide her down that path. Sometimes it'll be smooth, and sometimes it'll be a slammed door in her face. I wish with all my heart Katie would learn now to accept that, because it would save her so much grief and heartache. But I think that's one of those lessons that's best learned the hard way, and the long way.
Since I can't make her learn this lesson, I suppose my job as the parent is to tell the stories, over and over again, of how God brought His plan to fruition in my life, sometimes against my wishes, and how it ended up being the very best plan. And to hold Katie when she cries.
"Mommy, I didn't win a special treat!" "I wish I were (the little girl who did win)" Copious tears, grief, pain...breaking my heart.
It was such a little thing, and no, we don't really need more coloring books at our house. My first thought, of course, was "I can fix this!" But the teachable moment won out, and we had a chance to talk about what happens when things don't go your way.
Because all I could think, as she cried in my lap, was how this is probably the first in a long line of endless disappointments for her. Sometimes, it will be because mentally or physically, she didn't cut it (like the games at the party). There will always be someone smarter or faster. But at least as many times, if not more, it will be no fault of hers at all. She will simply not be what they are looking for in a role, in a job, in a spouse.
When Katie said she wanted to be the other little girl who won, my first thought was to compare. "Well, she doesn't have a little sister, and you do." But comparison is not the answer, because you're putting someone down to feel better. Susan pointed out later that if I can teach Katie to find her worth in the fact that God created her just the way she is, it'll help with the "not cutting it" situation. But that wasn't on my mind on Saturday.
As she sat on my lap, I told Katie that in the end, God had a better plan for her.
Whatever plans she makes in her life, God knows the one that will best for her, and He'll guide her down that path. Sometimes it'll be smooth, and sometimes it'll be a slammed door in her face. I wish with all my heart Katie would learn now to accept that, because it would save her so much grief and heartache. But I think that's one of those lessons that's best learned the hard way, and the long way.
Since I can't make her learn this lesson, I suppose my job as the parent is to tell the stories, over and over again, of how God brought His plan to fruition in my life, sometimes against my wishes, and how it ended up being the very best plan. And to hold Katie when she cries.
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
Peaches and Christian Community
"You need a critical mass to start canning, and we're definitely not there yet."
Famous last words. We processed 120 peaches over the weekend--lots of canning and a big crockpot of peach butter, and there are three bags of peaches still ripening and a bunch more on the counter. And we have barely begun on the tree.
I'm also in the middle of figuring out how to deal with the low-acidity aspect of white peaches...now I know why I've never canned our peach butter. Unlike yellow peaches, white peaches are on the border of being high-acidity, safe-to-water-bath-can. So yellow peach canning recipes may not be safe for white peaches, and I'm not sure how much lemon juice to add to our peach butter (which we usually don't add) to make it safe to can. The solution, of course, is to get into pressure canning. Yikes. Or making jam, I guess. David doesn't like jam, but I think other people do?
I've been thinking a lot about Christian community recently. Pop quiz: what book did I order to read up on it? We attend a pretty big church, and I feel like our experience with this church is/will be different from the previous churches we've attended in two ways.
First, this is a church that could potentially be long-term for us. In Arizona, we knew we'd be leaving after graduate school. Even when we started attending our first church here in NM, I knew it wasn't the church we could stay in forever, at least not in its current manifestation. In other words, it'd be changing a whole lot or we'd be leaving it eventually. But this is the church we could stay in our whole lives, if God doesn't call us to move. It's established, it's not going anywhere, as far as 'religious goods and services' go, it's got everything.
Second, this is the biggest church we've attended. It's got two services, 500+ attendees total, and I'm coming to terms with the fact that we just won't know people the way we would at a church 1/5 the size. I mean, our last church had about 30 attendees, and we could all hang out in the 'sanctuary' (there was really just one room) and let our kids roam while we chatted. Just can't do that at this church.
For some people, the size might not affect how they invest at all. But David and I are never going to have a huge circle of friends and be super involved in a bunch of things. That's not how God made us. I also bought "Introverts in the Church" and "A Quiet Faith" as part of these ponderings, because David and I are definitely on that side of the personality spectrum. And I'm trying to figure out how to serve from our strengths, in the way that God created us, not in the way an extrovert-oriented culture thinks we should.
Which brings me back to Christian community. How do we (David and I) invest in the Christian community in a way that works with our personalities in a church this size? And what kind of community are we building around us?
But another, equally important question is, how do we balance involvement in the Christian community with our call to be salt and light in the world? Because we need to be involved in a way that supports and encourages that, rather than one that becomes insular and all-consuming. And that's a whole other set of questions to wrestle with...
...which is why I bought "Life Together" by Dietrich Bonhoeffer. I figure that's a good place to start wrestling.
Famous last words. We processed 120 peaches over the weekend--lots of canning and a big crockpot of peach butter, and there are three bags of peaches still ripening and a bunch more on the counter. And we have barely begun on the tree.
I'm also in the middle of figuring out how to deal with the low-acidity aspect of white peaches...now I know why I've never canned our peach butter. Unlike yellow peaches, white peaches are on the border of being high-acidity, safe-to-water-bath-can. So yellow peach canning recipes may not be safe for white peaches, and I'm not sure how much lemon juice to add to our peach butter (which we usually don't add) to make it safe to can. The solution, of course, is to get into pressure canning. Yikes. Or making jam, I guess. David doesn't like jam, but I think other people do?
I've been thinking a lot about Christian community recently. Pop quiz: what book did I order to read up on it? We attend a pretty big church, and I feel like our experience with this church is/will be different from the previous churches we've attended in two ways.
First, this is a church that could potentially be long-term for us. In Arizona, we knew we'd be leaving after graduate school. Even when we started attending our first church here in NM, I knew it wasn't the church we could stay in forever, at least not in its current manifestation. In other words, it'd be changing a whole lot or we'd be leaving it eventually. But this is the church we could stay in our whole lives, if God doesn't call us to move. It's established, it's not going anywhere, as far as 'religious goods and services' go, it's got everything.
Second, this is the biggest church we've attended. It's got two services, 500+ attendees total, and I'm coming to terms with the fact that we just won't know people the way we would at a church 1/5 the size. I mean, our last church had about 30 attendees, and we could all hang out in the 'sanctuary' (there was really just one room) and let our kids roam while we chatted. Just can't do that at this church.
For some people, the size might not affect how they invest at all. But David and I are never going to have a huge circle of friends and be super involved in a bunch of things. That's not how God made us. I also bought "Introverts in the Church" and "A Quiet Faith" as part of these ponderings, because David and I are definitely on that side of the personality spectrum. And I'm trying to figure out how to serve from our strengths, in the way that God created us, not in the way an extrovert-oriented culture thinks we should.
Which brings me back to Christian community. How do we (David and I) invest in the Christian community in a way that works with our personalities in a church this size? And what kind of community are we building around us?
But another, equally important question is, how do we balance involvement in the Christian community with our call to be salt and light in the world? Because we need to be involved in a way that supports and encourages that, rather than one that becomes insular and all-consuming. And that's a whole other set of questions to wrestle with...
...which is why I bought "Life Together" by Dietrich Bonhoeffer. I figure that's a good place to start wrestling.
Saturday, August 9, 2014
5 months
But first, the peach report:
I have been obsessively checking the peaches, but they are still mostly hard or not quite ripe. It's hard to gear up for the game and then have to wait and wait. You need a critical mass to start canning, and we're definitely not there yet. But I did start freezing some of the windfalls, and there's a crockpot of peach butter going right now.
My goal was to count peaches this year, and although I've already processed a bit, I'll try to keep track. I always say we have tons of peaches, but the scientist in me wants to quantify.
Okay, 5 months--what's new?
It's feeling more and more like we have an almost two-year-old rather than a newly adopted child. There's still a lot of toddler issues to deal with, of course, but I feel like they are mostly the ones that come with the territory. She understands most of what we say to her (where she wants to is another story, of course), and the day-to-day operations seem to be getting a little easier. For example, instead of coming to me and crying at my feet when it's time for a meal, I can say "if it's time to eat, where do you go?" and she says, "chair" and runs to her chair. She's getting a bit pickier about eating, which is both encouraging and annoying. At least she trusts that there will be more food and she can afford to turn up her nose at that delicious chicken shawarma. Now we're getting into no pushing and trying to share, but like I said, normal toddler stuff. :)
One potential issue for cleft lip and palate is speech. It has been a little hard for me to judge Liz's speech, partly because she's learning a new language, partly because it's been a while since I had an almost two-year-old, and partly because our kids were both pretty early talkers. So we made an appointment for an evaluation with a speech-language pathologist who specializes in CL/CP. Within a few minutes of arriving, the SLP said she could tell Liz was perfectly fine. Yay! By the end of the evaluation, she placed Liz in the 'advanced' category and said just keep doing what we're doing. I guess that's lots of reading and talking. We talk a lot in this family. :)
A friend was reminding me how nice it is to be able to look back on 5 months and see how much progress Liz has made, rather than looking forward and focusing on what is still challenging. I was reminded again of how gracious God has been in Liz's life. We (and others) prayed and prayed for all these things, and I know God must have delighted in saying, "Yes!"
I have been obsessively checking the peaches, but they are still mostly hard or not quite ripe. It's hard to gear up for the game and then have to wait and wait. You need a critical mass to start canning, and we're definitely not there yet. But I did start freezing some of the windfalls, and there's a crockpot of peach butter going right now.
My goal was to count peaches this year, and although I've already processed a bit, I'll try to keep track. I always say we have tons of peaches, but the scientist in me wants to quantify.
Okay, 5 months--what's new?
It's feeling more and more like we have an almost two-year-old rather than a newly adopted child. There's still a lot of toddler issues to deal with, of course, but I feel like they are mostly the ones that come with the territory. She understands most of what we say to her (where she wants to is another story, of course), and the day-to-day operations seem to be getting a little easier. For example, instead of coming to me and crying at my feet when it's time for a meal, I can say "if it's time to eat, where do you go?" and she says, "chair" and runs to her chair. She's getting a bit pickier about eating, which is both encouraging and annoying. At least she trusts that there will be more food and she can afford to turn up her nose at that delicious chicken shawarma. Now we're getting into no pushing and trying to share, but like I said, normal toddler stuff. :)
One potential issue for cleft lip and palate is speech. It has been a little hard for me to judge Liz's speech, partly because she's learning a new language, partly because it's been a while since I had an almost two-year-old, and partly because our kids were both pretty early talkers. So we made an appointment for an evaluation with a speech-language pathologist who specializes in CL/CP. Within a few minutes of arriving, the SLP said she could tell Liz was perfectly fine. Yay! By the end of the evaluation, she placed Liz in the 'advanced' category and said just keep doing what we're doing. I guess that's lots of reading and talking. We talk a lot in this family. :)
A friend was reminding me how nice it is to be able to look back on 5 months and see how much progress Liz has made, rather than looking forward and focusing on what is still challenging. I was reminded again of how gracious God has been in Liz's life. We (and others) prayed and prayed for all these things, and I know God must have delighted in saying, "Yes!"
"Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory..." Eph. 3:20-21a
All done with ear tube surgery! Bear got a mask and hair cover. :)
I like to help out
Monday, August 4, 2014
Back to Blogging
So, I took a break from blogging. This blog was a great outlet for processing all the waiting that went into adopting, but once we finished the waiting period, it was a) more crazy at our house, and b) harder to choose what to write about.
First of all, crazier...you know, with these guys:
b) what to write about...I never intended this blog to be about my kids. Although it may be a losing battle in this day and age, I want to respect their privacy to grow up without all their foibles, mistakes, and challenges spread across the internet. Like when Luke decided he wanted to sit in big church with us this week...and then threw an absolute fit because I drank all the juice (failed to prep him for communion). Oops. Granted, I feel like that was my mistake, not his, but still. And there is so much going on with Liz, it's hard to know what to share and what to keep private. I'm dealing a lot with my kids right now, so if I've chosen not to write about them, what do I write about?
Truthfully, it's not like I haven't gone through a lot in this transition from two to three kids, from biological to adopted, but it's been messy. I've figured some things out, realized I didn't quite have it together, understood what I need to be doing, faced the fact that knowing doesn't make it easier to do...but it hasn't been a nice, logical, easily documented progression.
We were talking in my Bible study about times of spiritual growth, and I immediately thought of the last year...the process of adopting really stretches you, and I do feel like I grew spiritually through it. As I considered it, though, I also realized that blogging helped me process and document that time of spiritual growth. In some ways it feels like the last five months have been a little stagnant in that department, but as I look back and examine it, that's not true at all. I just haven't been processing and thinking about it the way I did before Liz arrived.
So I'm going to try and do this regularly again, partly to examine and document how God is working in our lives, partly to work through some things, and partly to write some letters to my future self, because we might be getting on the adoption train again...
Finally, I really have some cute kids here, and I guess it wouldn't be a problem to post a few more pictures of them. :)
First of all, crazier...you know, with these guys:
b) what to write about...I never intended this blog to be about my kids. Although it may be a losing battle in this day and age, I want to respect their privacy to grow up without all their foibles, mistakes, and challenges spread across the internet. Like when Luke decided he wanted to sit in big church with us this week...and then threw an absolute fit because I drank all the juice (failed to prep him for communion). Oops. Granted, I feel like that was my mistake, not his, but still. And there is so much going on with Liz, it's hard to know what to share and what to keep private. I'm dealing a lot with my kids right now, so if I've chosen not to write about them, what do I write about?
Truthfully, it's not like I haven't gone through a lot in this transition from two to three kids, from biological to adopted, but it's been messy. I've figured some things out, realized I didn't quite have it together, understood what I need to be doing, faced the fact that knowing doesn't make it easier to do...but it hasn't been a nice, logical, easily documented progression.
We were talking in my Bible study about times of spiritual growth, and I immediately thought of the last year...the process of adopting really stretches you, and I do feel like I grew spiritually through it. As I considered it, though, I also realized that blogging helped me process and document that time of spiritual growth. In some ways it feels like the last five months have been a little stagnant in that department, but as I look back and examine it, that's not true at all. I just haven't been processing and thinking about it the way I did before Liz arrived.
So I'm going to try and do this regularly again, partly to examine and document how God is working in our lives, partly to work through some things, and partly to write some letters to my future self, because we might be getting on the adoption train again...
Finally, I really have some cute kids here, and I guess it wouldn't be a problem to post a few more pictures of them. :)
She has since learned to climb up the slide...yay for older sibling examples.
Katie made a game called "Monster" that involves trying to run from one side of the yard to the other. Of course you have to avoid the monster.
No idea what's going on here. Possibly Liz is upset because the popcorn is not IN HER MOUTH.
My friend threw a shower for us, and her gift to Liz was this little red bench. She didn't even know how much Liz loves little chairs.
Sisters!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)