Looking Back

Last summer our sweet little baby girl was struggling just to stay alive. As a newborn she had faced incredible hardship in the first few weeks of her life. Once she was in the arms of Holt Care Center staff, they worked tirelessly to heal her little body. She was so tiny and weak that the doctor thought that every day could be her last on this earth. But God kept on giving her another day.

Before we even knew she was waiting across the ocean for us, God knew her. In a place where clean water and safe food are hard to come by, God sustained her. When she faced great danger and disease and starvation and loneliness, God protected her. While we prayed for her, worked for her, and waited for her, God tenderly held her.

And then, when were finally able to touch her, kiss her, and bring her home, God filled our hearts to overflowing with love for her, and He moved her tender heart to trust us. What an amazing Heavenly Father we have.

"God sets the lonely in families..." Psalm 68:6

My Girls

These two bless my socks off!

Snuggle Time

Apparently four children is my tipping point~ the point at which I must run a more organized household in order to stay on top of things everyday. It can't be blamed on the baby, because she is absolutely the easiest baby in the world. Nope, it's just me.

So, I've been working hard the past few weeks trying to get the house in shape so we can implement this. I read the whole book, did the homework, and then realized that we lacked something fundamental: a place for everything so everything can be in its place. Anyone else ever have that situation?

I began to feverishly pare down, cull out, toss, donate, pass along, and otherwise discard everything for which our home has no place. Wowsers ~ What a task. I'm still working on it, but I am determined.

As a reward to myself for working so hard toward my decluttering goal, two nights ago I started putting together our personalized schedule just as the book instructed. I stuck on the pretty colored squares and had dear hubby look it over and I prayed about it and moved the squares around some more. Then I decided to let it rest a day and tweak it a bit more before we implement it. Good thing I did that, because I left out something vitally important to my daily schedule.

My almost 7-year-old son comes to me a couple of times each day and asks, "Mama, do you want to snuggle?"

Now, what would your answer be when this face asks you that question?

I make other mistakes, but that is one mistake I do not make. I never want to lament how fast the time flew by, and how I wish I'd spent more time doing fun stuff with my children. I already know better. I do stop to smell the flowers they picked, and I do stop to see the rainbow, and I do stop to rock the baby, and I do stop to sing a silly song. I do those things because I am fully aware that this wonderful, exhausting, exhilarating, challenging, adorable, and fun stage in my young children's lives is fleeting. And I know that if I don't stop, I will miss some pretty awesome stuff God sends my way. So when my oldest son asks if I want to snuggle, I'm not about to miss it.

For this child, "snuggling" is an Olympic sport. First, he must drag all, and I do mean all, of his bedding onto hubby's and my bed. It is the best place to snuggle, because it is the biggest bed in the house. And I think there is a certain joy in dragging all the bedding down the hallway.

Snuggling supplies include one large tiger, 3 pillows, one construction theme comforter, one chair pillow, assorted sheets, 2 Thomas blankets, 2 giraffes, a dog, a teddy bear, a black panther, and two frogs. At least.

Once the proper materials are on my bed, he begins the serious task of molding said bedding into a beaver lodge. This takes considerable skill, as he has no mud to plaster pillows to each other. I try to help as I can, but he is the architect.

Once the lodge is properly constructed, we both snuggle up inside, where there is a lot of whispering and giggling due to random bears, badgers, and the like that come to scratch around our beaver lodge. There is also a lot of sweaty little boy under all that bedding. I love every minute.

After hiding in the lodge listening for predators, making necessary repairs to the lodge, and stifling in the lodge, my little man is ready to run off and play something else. But he always asks, "Mama, do you want to snuggle again later?"

You bet I do.

So back to my my big, colorful schedule I go. I'm not sure what squares I'll remove~ perhaps the "Do laundry" square, or the "Take a bath" square, since I already know how to do without those things. But one way or the other, a couple of very important squares are finding a space on my schedule. Because "Snuggle Time" won't wait.

The Many Faces

Here's what happened when I left the 11-year old in charge of her baby sister for a few minutes while I was on the phone. I love every one, but I saved the best for last!

Amazing

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

A LOVE STORY ~ by Six-Year-Old Boys

" But his mother treasured all these things in her heart."

Luke 2:51

Big News!

Psalm 68:4-5a

"Sing to God, sing praise to His name,

extol Him who rides on the clouds

His name is the Lord--

and rejoice before him.

A father to the fatherless,

 a defender of widows,

is God in His holy dwelling.

God sets the lonely in families..."

I told you our family was up to something again,

 and that you wouldn't want to miss it!

Drum roll please.........

We are adopting a child from Ethiopia!

HOW'S THAT FOR BIG NEWS?

The Good Lord willing, soon a sweet baby girl will finally feel the warmth and love of her very own forever family. And once again, we will experience all the blessings of folding one of God's precious little ones into our family.

Please rejoice with us and join us in prayer that our journey to this child is smooth and quick~so she doesn't have to wait much longer.

Praise God for allowing us to be a part of His amazing plan

 for one of His precious little children.

I Almost Missed It

I was in the bathroom unloading laundry from the hamper. I finished that task just as my youngest was finishing up on the potty. While he pulled his pants up in the way that 5-year-old boys do (simultaneously tugging on the waistband while standing on the legs of the pants) he chattered away at me about things he'd been measuring this morning with the measuring tape.

"Hmmm. That's nice," I answered absentmindedly.

As he was struggling with his pants and chatting happily, my home manager's brain thought, "If I hurry, I can get my hands washed before he gets ready to wash his hands. Then I won't be stuck doing the whole hand-washing song and routine he still likes to do with me. That way I'll have time to start a load of laundry before I get lunch on the table..."  

Can you believe I almost missed singing "This is the Way We Wash Our Hands" with my sweet son ~ for laundry?

I almost missed those precious little soapy hands in mine, sharing the cool water from the faucet, our faces almost touching above the sink. I almost missed hearing his high voice singing along, and his soft, slippery hands cupping the water till they are full, then sloshing it onto mine to rinse. I almost missed the last verse that helps us remember to dry on the towel together. I almost missed the kiss I get every time we finish that song. Can you believe I almost gave that up?

I almost missed it, but I didn't. Thankfully, God tugged at my mother's heart just in time and I felt a catch in my throat when I realized what I'd almost done. I'm so grateful He did that for me. I kicked the laundry aside for later. Then I savored those few precious moments together, just the two of us, bent over the bathroom sink singing and soaping.

But I almost missed it.  For laundry.

Curiosity killed... the conversation

We took a field trip to the Mayborn Museum this week.

 Our Family Pass to the museum is our all-time favorite, and most-used gift.

The kids were playing nicely

 with some new friends, then it happened.

 Again.

 A total stranger saw my family,

 put on her dunce cap,

 and approached us.

 With a determined look,

 she began her mission.

I smiled and said hello.

"Your boys are adorable. Are they from China?" she asked. "We have some friends with a daughter from China."

"Oh, thank you." I replied. "No, they were born in Korea."

She looked more closely at the boys. "Are they twins?"

"No. How old is your son?" I asked, hoping against all hope that I could steer this conversation away from where I thought it was headed. She didn't take the bait, ignored my question about her child, and I could see the wheels turning in her head. People are so predictable.

Here is where I wanted to use my super-powers to freeze time and remove the dunce cap from the woman's head so she would have sense enough to taste her words before speaking them. I hoped she and I might continue our conversation and talk about one of my favorite topics in the world~ adoption. I wished we could chat and I could share information and tell her about the blessings our family has experienced through adoption. Or we could talk about the beauty of Korea, or how wonderful big sisters are. Or gardening. Or the newest museum exhibit. Or the weather. Or shoelaces. I'm up for just about anything.

But instead I get a familiar knot in my stomach while she studies my sons. Unfortunately, I know exactly what's coming.

"Well, are they real brothers?" she asks,

 and my sons turn and look at me. 

"Yes," I answer with a practiced smile.

 Then I move away from her, toward my children.

 This conversation is over for me.

When my sons were toddlers they didn't pay much attention when people asked if they are "real brothers", but they certainly pay attention now.  And do you know why I split as soon as I've decisively answered the "real brothers" question? Because that is just the beginning. I've seen where this conversation goes if I stick around for more.

"They aren't twins?" they inevitably ask.

"No."

"Well, how far apart in age are they?" they ask.

"Two months," I answer,

 silently willing the curious person to shut up

 before they blurt out what comes next.

 It rarely works.

"Oh, so they are NOT real brothers, then." 

The stranger is now satisfied.

 They've confirmed for themselves

 and everyone within earshot

 that my children don't share DNA.

 They always seem so pleased

 to have us all figured out.

I just smile,

 look over my shoulder

 and leave them with a parting shot.

"They are now."

I pray I will never be so insensitive to a child, about anything. I pray I will never ask things that are none of my business. I pray I won't ever be so desperately and stubbornly curious, that I won't pause to give my brain one-half of a second to analyze exactly how my questions or comments might sound to someone else.

And I pray I will be a good example to my children when people around us continue to speak while their brains, and hearts, are disconnected from their mouths.

Learn

"Come forth into the light of things. Let nature be your teacher."

William Wordsworth

Kids

Of both varieties! We love to see new baby goat kids at our place, and this is an especially cute little one. Sometimes a baby goat comes into the world to a mother that just doesn't get it. She steps on the baby while trying to get to the corn. She walks away and leaves the baby shivering in the cold. She doesn't recognize when her baby is weak and sick. She lets other goats bully him. She won't stand still while he tries valiantly to stand up on wobbly legs and nurse. We end up bottle feeding those poor little ones until they are stronger. Sometimes they make it and sometimes they don't.

But this kid  belongs to a nanny that really knows how to mother. Her entire life is wrapped up in taking care of her little one. She instinctively knows that her baby needs her like he needs air to breathe. She does whatever she must, to make sure her baby is safe and happy at every moment. She fretted over him for hours after he was born, licking and nudging and encouraging him. When we let the rest of the heard out to green pastures later that day, she stayed in the pen with him so he could nurse. Now that he is a few days old, she still hurries while she grazes so she won't be far from him for long. And she watches him while she eats, as he rests in a bed of grass. She's obsessed.

He's doing great, of course. Thriving under the tender care of his obsessed mama. Wish every kid had a mama like that.

Beautiful book

An all-time favorite in our home is God's Wisdom for Little Girls by Elizabeth George.

My daughter and I have enjoyed reading it together for years, since she was very small. Now that she is ten years old and becoming a young lady, we still like to snuggle up with it and read it together. What could be better?

The rich paintings by Judy Luenebrink sweetly illustrate the rhyming text and help the book capture the essence of Proverbs 31. Inspiring us both to the lovely virtues of a Godly woman as we grow in the Lord, this book is truly a treasure!

Make A Difference

While walking along a beach,

a man saw someone in the distance leaning down,

picking something up and throwing it into the ocean.

As he came closer, he saw thousands of starfish

the tide had thrown onto the beach.

Unable to return to the ocean during low tide,

the starfish were dying.

He observed a young man picking up the starfish one by one

 and throwing them back into the water.

After watching the seemingly futile effort, the observer said,

 "There must be thousands of starfish on this beach.

It would be impossible for you to get to all of them.

There are simply too many.

You can't possibly save enough to make a difference."

The young man smiled as he continue to pick up

another starfish and toss it back into the ocean. 

"It made a difference to that one," he replied.

Author Unkown

As each one has received a special gift,

 employ it in serving one another

 as good stewards of the manifold grace of God.

 1 Peter 4:10

Miracle

I stood back and watched my miracle boy as he crossed the creek in front of me. We'd picked a shallow spot , but it was still too wide to jump all the way across. He stepped quickly and confidently over slippery rocks, without even looking down or getting his boots wet. Then he was off, scrambling up the other bank after his brother and sister, leaving me to slosh across with much less grace.

My mind wandered back to those confusing days after he came home to us from Korea as a toddler. The doctors did tests to find out why the muscle tone was so poor in his neck and upper body. The MRI explained the muscle weakness, but it also discovered some surprising brain abnormalities. Big ones. With sad faces they gave us the grim prognosis:

He will likely never walk. He will have terrible balance. He may never speak. His intelligence will be very low. He will be autistic.

But praise be to the Lord God, they were wrong. Really, really wrong. And there is no medical explanation for it.

Our 5 year old dynamo talks so much we wish he came with a mute button. He can jump off the couch, onto the mini tramp, then onto the floor where he sticks the landing like an Olympic gymnast. He taught himself to read at age 2, and now he is so far ahead in math and reading and geography skills that I just stopped keeping track. He is joyful and loving. He laughs and jokes and tickles and snuggles and writes funny notes and digs in the sand. He is a normal five-year-old, and then some.

Our very own miracle.