Questions?

I don't know why I bother keeping a blog. I don't really like it. I love, love reading blogs. I just don't enjoy writing them. I don't know why, it seems too personal. Yet, three times in the past few months, I went to delete it but couldn't. I guess I don't really know my purpose. It is not a diary of everyday events. It is not share my thoughts/ideas with the world. Maybe I just thought it would be cool and gave into peer pressure. Several people have asked if I have an adoption blog. No, I don't. Several people have asked me recently if I have a "my journey through homeschooling" blog. Umm, NO. So, I just have a random, hodge podge of a blog; nothing personal, no deep thoughts, no adoption news and/or timelines, no homeschooling journey. Actually, it sort of fits my hodge podge of a life!


I have decided recently that having four kids is hard. I mean hard, hard. I suppose if I was a more laid back sort of mom, it wouldn't be as hard. Here is the thing, for every child we have a different stage and we also have to deal with how that stage affects everyone else and how they are going to respond. For example, Emily has graduated and is about to go off to college. I have several stages going on here: Emily - her stage is preparing to leave home 2)How everyone else responds & reacts to her leaving home. I am always afraid that I am not giving someone something they need. The more clingy they get, the more suffocated I feel. Alexa is in a needy, needy stage. Yesterday, we were in Sam's club and I think she touched me, rubbed me, patted me at least 50 times. I know this because every time she did, she shocked me. Literally. Alexa's touch limit is 5,000, mine is 2. Now, I came home exhausted and ready to be alone. Yet, the minute I sit down, two more are sitting nearly on my head. I am not naive. I know that I am blessed beyond measure. I also know, firsthand, that these stages are not going to last forever. Pouring yourself out day after day, is hard. Yet, I know that is what I am called to do. I am reminded time & time again of the first women's bible study I went to as a stay-at-home mom. The first day she had us make aprons so that we could remember whom it was we truly served. That I serve Him by serving my family. I often have trouble turning my brain off when it is time to go to sleep. I read somewhere that if you read one verse and meditate on that while trying to sleep, it would help keep my brain more focused. I loaded this nifty tool on my "smart" phone to help me. Last night, my verse was Matthew 20: 26 - 27: "But among you it will be different. Whoever wants to be a leader among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first among you must become your slave." Coincidence? I think not.

Mother's Day

The Girl I Used to Be
by Rowena K. Lewis Copyright 1997.
She came tonight as I sat alone, the girl I used to be.
And she gazed at me with her earnest eye, and questioned reproachfully:
Have you forgotten the many plans and hopes that I had for you?
The great career, the splendid fame, all the wonderful things to do?
Where it the mansion of stately height, with all of its gardens rare?
The silken robes that I dreamed for you, and the jewels in your hair?
And as she spoke, I was very sad, for I wanted her pleased with me.
This slender girl from the shadowy past, the girl that I used to be.
So gently rising, I took her hand, and guided her up the stair
Where peacefully sleeping, my babies lay, innocent, sweet, and fair.
And I told her that these are my only gems, and precious they are to me;
That silken robe is my motherhood, of costly simplicity.
And my mansion of stately height is love, and the only career I know
Is serving each day in these sheltered walls, for the dear ones who come and go.
And as I spoke to my shadowy guest, she smiled through her tears at me.
And I saw that the woman that I am now, pleased the girl that I used to be.
I read this poem on earlier today and I been reflecting on it all evening. I don't know very many women whose childhood career aspirations were to be a "mommy". While I don't doubt that motherhood may have been in the back of their minds, it was to be a "mommy" AND a ... For most of my childhood, I never had a clear "this is what I want to be". Sure like every other girl, I wanted to be a ballerina, a lawyer, circus performer but never a mother. Then God changed my plans (and thankfully my heart)and allowed me the blessing of children. Being a mother is hard. Being a "good" mother is even harder. I know that there will be woman all throughout my life who do not understand the choices I have made. Investing all I have in the lives of my children could not compare with any material things the world or workforce could ever have to offer. Listening to my youngest, most reluctant reader read aloud the Christmas story on Christmas Eve to a roomfull of people, having a person compliment on the character in which your child competed - without knowing he was being watched, having one child with the most tender-heart reach out to those less fortunate around her, having my first born confidently leaving the nest, poising her wings to soar high are gifts that only a mother could truly treasure. While I may not change the world, I know that the world is a better place because my four are in it. I know that the girl I used to be is so grateful that God's plan for me was perfect; better than anything I could have asked for or dreamed about.

Given up

I have to say that I have been thinking a lot about blogging lately. Since my last post was December of 2010, there is proof that I have been thinking and not DOING. I don't know, I have conflicting emotions. I love reading blogs. It gives me an up-close & personal feeling about people I don't even know. My problem is I love reading blogs, not sharing blogs. I think it is a malfunction in my brain. Even as a child, I would write a journal entry, then rip it out and throw it away. I was unsure of my purpose in blogging. I was intimidated by blogs that were affecting the world, that were interactive with people, that had purpose, meaning. However, I still felt I had something to say, to share. While my blog may not be very consistent, while the topics may be scattered to the wind, while it will most likely be full of grammatical and punctuation errors, it is still mine. So, I am not going to give up, I am going to just keep on keeping on.

Merry Christmas

Anybody who knows me knows that I can be bossy, controlling and, at times, an over-achiever. Adoption doesn't care that I am any of those things. We are coming up on our one year anniversary marking the beginning of our whole adoption process. I have 4 children and I didn't have to wait or want any of them for one full year before they arrived - until now. The crazy thing is, I have read all of the statistics that say there are 147 million orphans in the world. I would really like to make it 147 million minus one! I am to the point to where I physically ache for him/her. They haunt my dreams and occupy many of my thoughts and prayers. We have all our stockings "hung with care" - all 7 of them.

I heard this song earlier this evening and thought it beautifully written. You can tell by the lyrics that it was written from a personal point of view. Enjoy.



There's a little girl trembling on a cold December morn
Crying for momma's arms
At an orphanage just outside a little China town
There the forgotten are

But half a world away I hang the stockings by the fire
And dream about the day when I can finally call you mine

It's Christmas time again but you're not home
Your family is here and yet you're somewhere else alone
And so tonight I pray that God will come and hold you in his arms
And tell you from my heart I wish you Merry Christmas

As I hang the tinsel on the tree and watch the twinkling lights
I'm warmed by the fire's glow
Outside the children tumble in a wonderland of white,
Make angels in the snow

But half a world away you try your best to fight the tears
And hope that heaven's angels come to carry you here

It's Christmas time again but you're not home
Your family is here and yet you're somewhere else alone
And so tonight I pray that God will come and hold you in his arms
And tell you from my heart I wish you Merry Christmas

Christmas is a time to celebrate the holy child
And we celebrate his perfect gift of love
He came to earth to give his life
And prepare a place for us
So we could have a home with him above

It's Christmas time again and now you're home
Your family is here so you will never be alone
So tonight before you go to sleep, I'll hold you in my arms
And I'll tell you from my heart, and I'll you from my heart
I wish you Merry Christmas

Big Hearts

I am going to take a minute and brag on my children. It constantly amazes me at how great they are. Now, let's face facts, they are sinful children raised by sinful parents, I get that. However, I love that they love to give. Once they invest in a person, they are loyal, they are caring, they are giving, they are prayerful. I have seen it time and time again. Way back before Alexa was born, we had a baby come and stay a long weekend with us. Owen prayed for that baby for years! My sister came to live with us a while, the kids loved having her here - even if it was due to tough circumstances. Henry came to live with us, even though it was very, very hard, my kids love him. I knew this but didn't really realize how much until we got to talk to him. He called on Thanksgiving and each child got to talk to him. All of them were excited and loved catching up with him. I watched my kids take in a boy for the weekend and again, he has been in every prayer we've prayed. Several times one of the kids have said they missed him. One tonight questioned if I thought he would really call us if he needed us. I am amazed at how willing they are to love and to help and to care. Genuinely. I love that they spend as much time looking through and circling items in the World Vision catalog just as much as they do the Target wish book. I love that they would love to each have a child to sponsor. I love that they care for others. I love that they pray for our baby and wish that tomorrow we could go get him/her and bring them here. I was telling all of this to a friend over the weekend and she gave me this crazy look and said "I don't really see why you should be all that suprised. I would be surprised if they acted any differently." Yet, I am still surprised and grateful. I am grateful for their hearts. I am grateful to be their mother. I am grateful for God's provision and protection. It is a character trait that I pray each of them keep as they continue to grow into adulthood and beyond.

Happy Thanksgiving

So, I have arrived. This is my first Thanksgiving,ever, to have to get up at the crack of dawn to put a turkey in the oven. I would like to say it was a beautiful experience, one that I will fight for in years to come. However, that was not exactly the case. Raw meat is not something my eyes, nose and hands can handle very well. I can definitely see why handling it makes some turn to a vegetarian life style. Anyway, my dear knight (who was already up in order to go in search of my After-Thanksgiving sales ads) so lovingly helped me stuff it into the bag and into the oven. With that chore accomplished, I was able to just sit in the quiet and observe the morning. I can see why some are such advocates of the early morning stillness. It was beautifully breath-taking as the sun was just peeking above the trees. I was reminded of an overwhelming sense of thankfulness. Thankful that I have parents who have always loved and supported me, thankful that I have never experienced true hunger, thankful that I have a Savior that loves me despite my many flaws and failures, thankful that I have a wonderful husband, thankful that I have beautiful, healthy, intelligent children who are growing in the Lord, thankful that I have the privilege to homeschool those children, thankful for the opportunities we have in America, thankful for my beautiful home and the comfort and safety it provides. Just so thankful that if feels as though my heart could burst. Yet, at the same time there is such a longing and burden. A longing for the sweet, young man that sat at my dinner table last night and got choked up that it was his first family meal in 4 months, a longing at the realization that if he were to die tonight - he would be forever separated from Christ, a longing for my baby on another continent - what are he/she doing today; are they born, is there anyone there hugging and kissing them and singing quiet lullabies, feeding them, loving them. A longing for all the other children that may never know what it like to have that forever family. It is crazy how in one moment there can be such a rush of thankfulness and fullness and then such a strong current of burdens and sadness. At the same time as having these whirlwind of thoughts, my quiet morning was interrupted by my knight screaming at the dog for pooping on the floor. I am silently screaming and waving my arms begging him to not wake the kids. Then, I realize it is because we live in a fallen world that we have such a span of emotions. We are blessed and comfortable but we are called to be burdened, the things we are burdened over are the things we are called to strive to change. We are called to be set apart. Sometimes, that being set apart, sets us up for ridicule and isolation, sometimes it makes people think we are crazy, and sometimes that being set apart gives us that quiet, gentle prodding of a whisper of the 'well done' I so long to hear. Happy Thanksgiving!

What were they thinking?

Last Friday night everybody had a crazy schedule. Emily was at AnchorSoul, Alexa had a sleepover birthday party, Owen had a Halloween party at the gym. It was just Ryan, Ian and myself. Sort of at the last minute we decided to let Ian invite a friend and we would go out in Raleigh while we waited for Owen. Owen needed to be picked up at 10:00. We decided we would like to go bowling. Bowling is an activity we love to do together as a family but due to budget constraints and the rise of bowling costs, we haven't gone as much in the past couple of years. Anyway, we go to the bowling alley and we all play the first game. The second game I decided to sit out in case we didn't get done in time so that I could go pick up Owen. As I was sitting there, I noticed the family in the lanes beside us. You could tell they were "official" bowlers. There was a mom on one lane, then a dad (in his airbrushed 'I love bowling' t-shirt on one lane and then, what I assume to be their teen aged son in the next lane. The thing I noticed right off was that both the dad and son had their ipod earbuds in. I thought that seemed sort of odd that you would go bowling as a family with earphones. Then, I noticed the shrill, high-pitch nastiness coming out of the mother's mouth. She was screaming at them (the son in particular) over how they were doing things. I looked up at the score board expecting to see her score WAY above the others. However, that was not the case. I thought, that woman is missing the point. She is missing that young man's heart. I am not sure if I felt worse for the young man or the mother. It did cause me to stop and wonder about how many times my kids wished they could just put on their earphones and tune me out. Now, I don't scream obscenities at them - ever. But how often I am just barking words at them rather than tending to and reaching their hearts. We all want the best for our kids and want them to be/do their best. However, as my kids get older and older, I would pick being the best in character, integrity and honesty EVERY time over anything else.

"She Ain't Right"

I know it has been a while. I have been in a terrible funk. It seems as though so many things are changing in my world, yet so much is still the same. I had sort of giving up on blogging because I had decided that "if I couldn't do it right I just wasn't going to do it." That has sort of become my mantra over the past couple of weeks. At the same time of being so frustrated with myself - I am overwhelmed with the blessings I have been given. In all of those blessings, Ryan is one of my greatest. He is forgetful, he procrastinates, he loves football (a little too much) but hands-down he is the best, most hard-working, caring, husband and father. I couldn't have asked for a better role model for my kids.

A few weeks ago, I heard a song by the same person in the Dollar General. I asked the cashier (who was singing along at the top of her lungs) the name of the artist. We discovered this song - it has become Ryan's mantra to me. I think maybe I should be insulted, but I am not, It fits. And as I am often heard saying: "well if the shoe fits"

I am not always glad to be "not right" but I am eternally grateful for being "just right for him".




Lyrics:
She got her daddy's tongue and temper (not really - its my mothers)
Sometimes her mouth could use a filter (not for dirty words - just sometimes unkind words)
God shook his head the day he built her
Oh, but I bet he smiled.
She loves and lives her life unruly
Tears up that dirt road up in a dualy
Dangerous, absolutely. (Not really dangerous - just always have a plan)
And in a little while...
She'll be roundin' that corner on three wheels (not really - they just say I drive everything like a go-cart)Ain't slowin down, yellin "Come on, jump in"
Always up to somethin, crazy got nothin' on her

Chorus:
She ain't right, she ain't right
She ain't right, but she's just right for me


She says she wants to meet my momma
I said, I don't think you oughta
Be like mixin' oil and water
But by midnight she had
momma on the coffee table dancin'
Comin' unwound
Good God I swear, can't take her anywhere
What's the girl gonna do next

Chorus:
She ain't right, she ain't right
She ain't right, but she's just right for me

Every once in a while she'll give me that smile and say,
I just don't see somebody like you lovin' somebody like me
She ain't right, naw she ain't right
She ain't right

She ain't right, she ain't right
She's just right, she's just right,
She's just right for me
Mhhmmm she's just right, she's just right.
She ain't right, she's just right for me.

Once is all it takes

I have lived in my house for four years. I have used my garage door nearly everyday for each of those four years - until recently. Back in the spring, we were headed out and a black snake was coming through the crack in the door. A few weeks after that, a mouse ran behind some tables when I opened the door. Then, we had a lizard that came to live in the same spot and would dash away when the door was opened. I told Ryan that I had had it and I was never using that door again. He dutififully put steel wool in the crack and all was well. However, this past week, the steel wool fell out. I have found myself fearful of the door again. A couple of nights ago, we came in and the light was off (it normally cuts on when you come in) and I wouldn't reach my hand to the switch because I was afraid of some varmin that would be there waiting to bite me. Here is the point of this story - it bothers me that out of the approxiamate 1,460 days I have lived in this house - because of 4 "mishaps" I don't want to use the door. What about the 1,456 days when NOTHING happened? Why is it true in our lives that the bad WAY outweighs the good? I took it for granted that I could walk out the door free of anything "getting" me until the day that reality caused me to doubt. It made me start to think of my children and the people around me - how we could say 1,456 nice things and 4 negative but the negative would be what we would always remember. I want to be an encourager, I want people around me to know that it is my intention to build up - not tear down. I don't want people stepping around me in fear like I now have to do in my garage. I'm working on it, I'm working on it! :)

Nothing to Fear but Fear itself

I am sorry to say but I freak out nearly every year this time of year. I am the worst type of homeschooling mother - a homeschooling mother with a public school mentality. I have tried very hard to overcome it - some years I do okay others I fail miserably. I have spent this week working on Emily's high school transcript. I have long confessed to being a perfectionist overachiever. I have NEVER hit a brick wall quite like this transcript thing. I called a dear friend, begging for help. This friend has three grown, collegially successful children. You see, when she was where I am, I had a 5/6th grader. Transcripts were NO WHERE on my radar. In fact, until Emily reached the 8th grade - my "high school plan" had consisted of praying for the rapture. My friend so sweetly kept reassuring me that I could do this. I have a list of all the courses she has taken, the grade she was given, we have a school name, we have done everything we needed to do, why was this so difficult? It all boils down to this : FEAR. I am afraid. I am afraid that I would have done something (or not done something) that would keep her from x,y,z (we aren't even really sure what that is). I have been rereading Seasons of a Mother's Heart by Sally Clarkson. It is my fallback study before school starting during my struggle years. (I have read it 3-4 times). I always learn something different - because my situation and my struggles are different. Yesterday, I was on the chapter about guilt (fitting, huh?) This is what she said "If homeschooling is indeed God's will for our lives (Ryan and I firmly believe that for us - it is), then it is good, acceptable and perfect (Romans 12:1-2) Homeschooling should be a blessing to us, not an unbearable burden(or the cause of severe, middle of the night anxiety attacks). If it is such a burden, then perhaps we have required things of ourselves that the Lord never asked us to do. Perhaps the standards we are trying to follow are not God's standards, but man's. Perhaps we are living by formula than by faith." Here is what I know: 1) Our homeschooling was not a mistake - although, I don't feel it is the right choice for everyone - it is the right choice for us - good, bad, and/or ugly 2) Nothing I could do (or not do) could stop the plan GOD has for Emily's life. - I am just not that important. 3) "Success" (and I am VERY guilty of this) is often measured in very worldly terms - especially during the high school years. I would like to say that tonight I will not go to bed with a rice sock over my shoulders and a pounding over my right eye, but that would most likely be a lie. All I know is I can keep reminding myself that God did not create me to be in bondage to fear. We have raised Emily to be an intelligent, God-fearing, light-shining disciple of Christ - no matter where or how she decides to shine it, "we" will be a success.