Chosen

Moving is never easy. The endless piles of things to put away, boxes yet to be unpacked, trash to deal with from empty boxes, painting, cleaning, arranging and rearranging...and all while regular life must go on. Moving to an entirely different state, AND away from everyone you've ever known, has it's own unique challenges on top of the regular ones. The excitement of the new and uncharted territory, of starting over, beginning again--has its ups and downs.

I absolutely LOVE where we live. I love our neighbors, I love our home, I love our oldest's new school and I love our new homeschool group for the younger 3. Although I was hesitant to look for another church home, I've fallen deeply in love with the one we've found here. And, as I'd mentioned to both of my brothers a while back, there is something easier about being in a new place altogether--one where I don't turn every corner and have a memory of daddy staring me in the face. I don't have to remember him sitting in my living room, laughing at my poker table, bowling with the boys on the Wii, or coloring in the dining room with my daughter. A new place is a new beginning--a starting over in a new normal.

Don't get me wrong. I WANT to remember. I WANT to picture him with us, doing things we love. But I NEED to do it on my own time, in my own way. I already have little things that sneak up on me and tear me apart on the inside without a moments notice. I don't want or need to be in a place where it's almost an hourly guarantee. Call it denial if you must. I call it self-preservation. I call it survival for the sake of holding it together and keeping the little shred of sanity I manage to maintain most days.

I know we serve a loving God. I know that He has my best interests in mind and that, although I cannot see the bigger picture, His ways are better than my own. And yet, for this last 16 months, I have felt so distant...struggling to convince my heart what I know in my head...that God is good, that He knows all my hurt, all my pain. I can tell myself and believe with all my head that daddy went when it was time, that he no longer suffers, that he is better off--that there is a bigger picture I cannot see, a bigger reason for my loss. I know in my head that God only takes us when our work is done, and not a moment sooner. But convincing my heart has been another matter altogether. I could not fathom for one moment that, while I knew God was with me, that He was truly beside me, seeing my pain and longing to bring me closer to Him through it.

And then I knew. I knew in that moment that He is here...truly HERE, in the thick of it with me. He not only sees my pain, He feels it. What burdens me, also burdens the heart of the living God. I cannot begin to explain to you how I knew or what changed. All I know is that in that moment of worship, my walls were torn down and my eyes were opened. He broke the barrier I'd created around my broken heart, took hold of me and held me like no other. He picked up the pieces of my broken world and is ever so gently, ever so graciously putting them back together, one by one.

My relationship with my Jesus, is in a new place. I no longer have a God who I turn to in times of trouble or times of joy. I no longer have a God who is out there somewhere waiting for me to grab hold of him in my time of need. Instead, He is my Healer, my Redeemer, my Confidant, my Wonderful Counselor. Before anyone else, my husband included, He is the one I turn to with my pain, my joy and also my every day, my every moment. What I knew with my head before I now know more than ever with my HEART. I am CHOSEN. He loves me more than I could ever possibly comprehend and He's not somewhere waiting for me to reach out for him. He's right beside me, simply waiting for me to trust Him with the details, waiting for me to lean on Him, and not my own understanding. I cannot put into words the difference that heart-knowledge has made in my life.

I don't know where you are, I don't know what you're struggling with, I don't know your pain. I don't know the trials you face, the temptations you fight, or the fear or anxiety or hurt you are going through. I don't know your thoughts or all the secrets you hide. But I know the One who does. Whether you believe it or not, whether you can fathom the reality or want to deny it altogether, THERE IS A GOD WHO KNOWS YOUR NAME, WHO KNOWS YOUR PAIN, WHO KNOWS YOU BETTER THAN YOU KNOW YOURSELF. And He LOVES you, sweet friend. I wish you knew that, deep in your heart...just how desperately, deeply, unconditionally he loves YOU. Because you see, you are also chosen...

1 Thess. 1:4 "For we know, brothers and sisters loved by God, that He has chosen you.."

I pray, sincerely, that one day soon you will see it too...

(Not My) Lessons Learned

It seems as though I have an over abundance of opportunities lately to learn life lessons. Between moving to another state and having to make friends all over again, losing my dad 15 months ago, surviving our first year of homeschooling, and still maintaining this adoption process, I have weekly if not daily lessons I'm learning. It's a good, albeit exhausting, thing to go through.

However, I think the lessons that resonate with me the most, that leave me pondering the longest, aren't even my own. They are the things my daddy learned--many the hard way--that I am realizing more and more the longer he's gone. I'll be honest (because he would've said so himself), he wasn't always a good man. Of course, none of us are ALWAYS good...and he was no exception. Like anyone, he could be mean, short-sighted, and make poor choices, some big some small. But the closer he came to the end of his life, the better perspective he had and the more he lived life intentionally. There are many things I want to emulate about the man I called "Daddy". There are others I don't. The following list encompasses the lessons he learned that are becoming apparent to me more and more each day...

1. Life is short. It ends unexpectedly and we all wish for more time.

2. The choices we make on a daily basis can have lasting effects over a lifetime. For example, until he realized his health was in jeopardy, he didn't put a lot of thought into what he ate and how he cared for his body. We have ONE life and only ONE body--we must treat it with the utmost care.

3. Relationships are what YOU make them. You can't control other people, but you are most definitely responsible for your own actions. You get out what you put in. My daddy chose to not put the effort into his marriage to my mom as he should've (for whatever reason). It cost him both his marriage AND time with us kids. Obviously it's not all one sided, but he could've done more on his part--he later said so himself.

4. Time is the one thing you can never get back. You MUST make the most of every day. If there are places you hope to see one day, NOW is the time. If there are things you need to say, NOW is the time. There is no guarantee that you will get the opportunity if you don't do it now. My father had always wanted to go see Vegas. It never happened. He'd also planned to make a video that chronicled his opportunities to share Jesus with others because he said he had some amazing stories. He never got around to it. Oh how I would've loved to hear those stories.

5. You can spend your life working to have THINGS and end up neglecting those most precious to you. Early on in his marriage to my mom, Daddy was focused on working hard and having nice things and, as he later put it, "chasing the almighty dollar". If he thought he could get wealthy doing something, he tried it--many times to the detriment of his marriage and his finances. And he was miserable doing it. Later on in life, he was content to have a roof over his head, food on the table, and time with us kids. And he was utterly happy. Things will never make you happy--but time with those you love will.

6. How does the saying go? "To the world you may be just one person, but to one person you may be the world"--or something like that. I think too often we get caught up (especially in today's get-famous-quick society) in being known or being famous or doing something big--rather than realizing that sometimes the most important thing we can do is to be known in the lives of those around us. My daddy didn't make any major contributions to society, but to his grandkids, he was an incredible source for Godly instruction and encouragement. To this day, the one thing that sticks out to my middle son about his Papa was that he was "always telling him about Jesus"--and he loved that about him. Many times it's in the everyday moments that our lives have the biggest impact.

Obviously, none of these things constitute rocket science. In fact, they are things we are told from many different sources, many different times throughout our lives. But when you're faced with looking back on the life of someone you've lost, these lessons take on new meaning. There are soooooo many things about my dad that I hope to develop within myself as a parent, a friend, a neighbor--so many good qualities I hope to have. But sadly, there are things I hope to take to heart, from these lessons I saw him learn the hard way--so that I will not make the mistake of repeating them myself. As parents, we always want better for our kids. We want them to have more, do more, experience more and be more than we ever had, did, or were. So while there are things I know he would've done differently if he had life to live over, I pray these are things I never forget, so that I can at least learn from the lessons life taught my daddy.

If I Never Hold Her

I think the day or two following the list release are the hardest. It's the let-down after the anticipation, the utter crash after being hopeful. It's the questions, the longing, the struggle, the pain...

Last night I awoke at about 4am gasping for air, sobs wracking my body. But they were sobs of joy. I'd just received an email telling me we had it, we had her file, we were finally, officially, legitimately going to be a family...I was so completely overwhelmed with emotion that my body simply convulsed in sobs of joy.

But then I woke up. It wasn't real. It wasn't true. Everything wasn't alright. I was back in the middle of life as it actually is--in the middle of this roller coaster ride of an adoption, with seemingly no end in sight. So I tossed and turned and attempted to go back to sleep, eventually succumbing to my exhaustion.

I don't know how this all ends. I can't see the light at the end of the tunnel today. I can't give reassuring words of hope to my kids who continue to ask when their sister is coming home and what is taking so long. Today it feels as though I'm at the end of my rope, wrought with exhaustion, questions without answers, frustration, confusion and pain.

And yet I know...I know that if I never hold her, He still does. If I never come face to face with her in this life, He knows her name and His plan for her is great. If I never hear the name "Mama" uttered from her lips, He will not leave her orphaned...for He has a home for her, a family with a hole only she can fill. For He cares for her more than I could possibly imagine...and although I cannot see it now, His plan is perfect.

So I attempt to rest in the shadow of the Almighty, trusting Him with her, with us, with the future. I breathe in, breathe out, and keep going...

'But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.'                      --2 Cor. 12:9


I know His grace IS sufficient.

All The Things

**Please understand this post is completely serious and spoken from the heart. I'm not being fake or trying to come off in any way other than completely honest. If you don't believe me well, then you don't know me--and you're welcome to get to know me or just move along.**

Some days I look at my life and I just don't get it. I don't believe it's real. I don't understand why we are where we are. As I've mentioned before, as recently as yesterday, life is not always a bowl of cherries 'round here. It can be hectic. It can be downright crazy (um, hello?? I have FOUR kids). It can be hard and sad and just plain stinky--which I firmly believe is pretty much everyone's life everywhere on any given day, because we are normal people trying to navigate this thing called life. But it's also beautiful, unbelievable, and 100% paradise (as my beautiful Aunt Kendra likes to say). It's filled with people I love, in a place I love, doing what I love. Paradise.

I've been told I'm "spoiled". (Sadly, I let that bother me simply because the person who said it doesn't have a clue who I am and simply made a judgment call based on material observation I suppose.) The truth is, yes I love my life. But I don't in anyway deserve it. And to be honest, I could give it all up tomorrow without a second thought. Because it's just ALL THE THINGS. It's stuff. It's material possessions. It's not who I am, it does not determine my value, it does not make me a better or worse person. It's just stuff. Give me the people that I love and I have all that I need. I can make do with way less and be perfectly content. How do I know? Because I've been there. I've lived with next to nothing. I've stood with my mom in the commodities line waiting for our turn at free groceries. I've flushed a toilet with a bucket of water because my dad's electricity was shut off for lack of money to pay the bill. I learned early on that happiness doesn't come from things--it comes from within--how you CHOOSE to feel. I've been perfectly content with nothing and I'm content now, having all the things...at least to some degree.

The thing is, I'm actually less content now than I was when we had nothing. It's not that I NEED anything. Quite the contrary--I struggle with the idea that I have things I don't need. **Again--please understand this just me being honest, sharing my heart--I truly truly feel very undeserving of the life I currently have and that is precisely why I'm sharing all of this.** At the heart of the matter, I just don't want to be a consumer. I don't want to go through life comfortable with having all the things and being content within my own walls, within my own life. I want to be used. I want to be able to bless others. I want to be uncomfortable with the idea that there are those around me who struggle every day just to find food and shelter, rather than being content to live as though they don't exist, like it's not my problem. I want to use what I've been given, what I've been entrusted with, to give back, to make a difference.

So I'm starting where I can--with our home. I've decided that my unstructured nature will just have to deal with the fact that I'm going to keep my home in such a manner that it can be used at any moment, to bless those God brings in our path. We will have an open door policy and when God says "help them, host them, feed them, etc" we will. It may be neighborhood children who need a positive environment where they can relax and be themselves. It may be teenagers from our son's school, looking for a place to get away and escape the stress of home. It may be friends, co-workers, or others who need a place to stay. I have no idea. But I do know this home was not given to us for our own comfort, for our own enjoyment. I firmly believe God has blessed us for the sole purpose of being a blessing to others. So that's where we will start--at home.

Here's the catch--I don't think this "idea" was given to me alone. I believe it applies to all of us, no matter where we are in life, no matter if we have a little or have much. As Jesus said in Matthew 25:35

"For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in..." (NIV)

It wasn't a command for the rich or for the poor...it was a command for us all. Won't you join me? How can YOU give back? Can you open your home? Do you have time you can spare to serve somewhere? Do you have items you can donate to a local shelter? Each of us can give, somehow. And for some reason, I believe the biggest blessing will come in the giving...  

Being His Mom, Her Mom & Finding Joy in the Journey

So there's not a lot to update on the adoption front. Still waiting. Still hoping. Still frustrated by systems that seem to fail those they seek to serve. You'd think that after more than 23 "list nights" where we wait...refreshing the email button...hoping for good news and a file attached--HER file--only to be disappointed month after month, list after list...that we'd be used to it by now. In some ways, yes, we are. Most days I find myself fairly numb...almost as if I'm in a dream world where I THOUGHT we were going to adopt, but in reality it's just never going to happen. That's most days. Then there are days when I can hardly drag myself out of bed. I put a smile on, keep the peace, shove it deeper inside...because I know that if I allow myself to feel all of the anger and frustration that lies beneath the surface, I may never come up for air. I may be swallowed up whole...some days. I can tell my head a hundred different ways that "His timing is not MY timing" and "God's still in control". And I know that I know that I KNOW that is the truth. But some days, convincing my heart of that is another story altogether. So when people ask how it's going, where are we at in the process, I don't say "It totally sucks. I just wanna fly over and get my daughter already. I'm over the wait and anxiety and the sleepless nights. I'm just done. I plan to leave tomorrow." Instead, I simply say, "Oh, it's coming along. Still waiting and hoping it works out the way we'd like. But we're good." Because that's the easier thing to say. And that's the easier thing to hear. And frankly, maybe if I say it enough, I'll start to believe it too. Some days...

But there are other days...when I have a glimmer of hope, when I see just a glimpse of the bigger picture, and by His grace alone, I'm able to keep going. Because I'm her mom. And I will wait til the day I die if I have to. I will continue to fight for her no matter how long, no matter the road, because that's what moms do. And I'm her mom.

I'm also his mom. My teenager who is struggling to figure out his identity...who is questioning everything he believes...what is right and wrong. My son who is trying to determine his place in this world, and who does so facing pressures and obstacles...even some I've never faced myself. So I need to be HERE--fully present. He needs me to be HIS mom, in this moment, in his time of (so far) his greatest need. I need to walk this road with my son, completely engaged in his trials and triumphs, guiding him where I can, and praying he trusts God to lead him where I can't. Some days that road with him really sucks...I mean REALLY sucks. It's hard and it's painful and it's ugly and it's sooooo not my son...not the young man I know...not the man God created him to be. Other days that road is so incredible I can't begin to describe it. The amount of love and pride I have in being his mom goes beyond words. He is talented, he is dedicated, he is amazing and kind and thoughtful and he has a heart the size of Texas (which I've come to learn is very VERY large!). And I get front row seats to watch him grow--both in the good times and the bad--and I wouldn't trade it for anything. Not one single thing.

And somewhere deep inside, I'm realizing I'm also a very lost little girl who misses her daddy in ways no words can express. In fact, I was holding it together until that very sentence. Because that's what I do. I have to keep going. I have responsibilities. I have people who depend on me. And until recently, going with the flow was easy. We've had a whole lotta crazy up in here for the last 14 1/2 months since my daddy died. I've literally been going from one thing to the next, funeral then his belongings then his estate then starting to homeschool then selling a house then moving then moving again then getting settled in a new state surrounded by new people. So I didn't have to think, or feel. I could just shove it all deep inside to be dealt with another day. But that day has come and I'm finding I'm completely unprepared for the waves of emotion that are fighting to take over within me. I fight on a near daily basis, just to keep my head above water. And sleep, which was once my safe haven, my refuge from the day, has eluded me in these months since daddy has been gone. I'm beginning to realize I need time to heal. I need time to let myself feel all of these things I've trapped inside. I just need more time.

And God, in His infinite wisdom, is giving me just that. Time to heal, time to find my new normal, time to get settled in our new surroundings, time to be his mom, the way he needs me--completely focused on his needs...and I need to deal with all of this, to be fully HERE, before I can be fully THERE with her, getting to know her, letting her get to know me, being HER mom the way she needs me--completely focused on her needs.

So I try to find joy in this journey, in this uphill-downhill-good day-bad day-journey. I'm learning what it is to grieve, to raise a teenager with all of his successes and failures, to make new friends all over again, to become accustomed to new places and things, and to help my family settle into this new phase of life. Little by little I'm surviving, and some days I see the light at the end of the very long tunnel. Just when I need it most, God gives me the clarity I need to see just far enough into that light to keep going, to know without a doubt He is VERY much in control. And He has my best interests at heart...even when I can't see the big picture from here.

(Somewhat) Short and Sweet

17 1/2 years ago, I fell in love with the man of my dreams (I know, GAG, but it's true!!). 15 years ago today, I married that man. It's crazy to think about, really, because it doesn't feel like it's been nearly that long and yet I feel like I've known him my whole life. It's almost hard to remember life before him. I like it that way.

We've had our really low points, like nearly going bankrupt, losing two babies early in my pregnancy with each of them, Sean having a horrible reaction to medication after surgery that had us (and the doctors) questioning if something was seriously wrong, losing my dad only a year ago. We've never questioned, even once, if our marriage would make it. But there were times when we wondered how we'd get by--financially, emotionally, physically.

We've also had our really great moments--I've given birth to 4 beautiful children, we're in the process of adopting a 5th, Sean has been blessed in business, receiving 4 different promotions at work in just a 5 year time frame! We are now living in a beautiful city that we are growing to love and we are steadily building the life we've always dreamed of. It's been an incredible ride so far!

I say all of this, not to brag by any means, because although we've made mistakes, learned from them, moved on and worked really hard along the way, we deserve none of it. We are humbled DAILY as we look back on the life we've had so far and how bright the future looks.

Instead, I share this all to say--none of it matters. All of our "success" by the world's standards could be gone tomorrow. Sean could lose his job, we could lose our home, our health could fail. We are not promised tomorrow. So in reality, none of it matters. And as far as I'm concerned, with Sean by my side, I can get through anything.

I have an incredible husband. He is hard-working, God fearing, full of integrity. He is smart, he is an amazing dad--he has been actively involved in our kids' lives from day one. He is a leader, a man of character. He reaches out to those around him, aiming to build them up, to encourage them. He believes in the strength he finds in other people, and he never expects more from someone else than he does of himself. He protects me, he values me, he knows all of my deepest darkest secrets, sees all of my sin, yet loves me unconditionally. He is my soul mate, the love of my life, a man for whom I have the utmost respect. He never ceases to amaze me with how he loves me, how he loves our family. He is more than I could've hoped for, everything I dreamed of, and so much more than I could ever deserve.

I made the best decision of my life when I said "yes" 16 years ago, and I do it all again in a heartbeat. I love you to the moon and back, Sean, and I look forward to sharing many more tomorrows with you by my side.

So Many Times...

So many times I've sat down to start this post. So many times I've laid in bed at night, ideas running through my head on what to say, how to say it. And yet now, when I finally sit down to write, they all escape me...

We've had a lot of life changes in the last 6 months, in the last year, really. I honestly don't know how it's been a whole year. My daddy died...a year and 6 days ago. I've lost track of time since then. In some ways it feels like it was just yesterday. In others, it seems like a lifetime ago. And yet, some days, I have to convince myself he's really gone. I still catch myself preparing to call or text him to share part of my day. I no longer physically reach for the phone, but my mind still starts to think of it.

Grief is a strange thing. You can hear about it, learn about it, read all you can to fully understand how it works. But when it's you, when it's your grief, it's different. It's never what they say it will be. Sure, it follows a basic pattern that experts have dubbed the "cycle of grief", but only in its basic form. And, at least for me, there's not just one trip around that cycle. For me, I believe I've been around it at least 3 times in the last year. And I don't see it stopping anytime soon. I think of it as a grief bicycle. I keep going and going and going.

Don't get me wrong, overall, it's getting easier...overall, I cry less often...overall, it doesn't sting as frequently...overall, I'm finding a new normal and moving on. But there are days...horrible, gut-wrenching days when I don't even want to get out of bed, I don't want to face this reality, I don't want it to be real. There are days when everything is going smoothly and out of nowhere I'm blindsided by wave after wave of grief for absolutely no reason. There are days when it's all I can do to hold it together, to force myself to keep moving, so as not to freak out my kids with the meltdown I feel just beneath the surface.

But there are other days too. Days when I can see something that reminds me of my childhood, of a story my Daddy once told me, of something we once did together...and I can smile. I can be in the moment and think to myself, "Daddy would love seeing this" or "Dad would crack up laughing right now", and truly, thoroughly, bask in the moment, and be happy. There are times when I watch my kids, when I listen to them, and my heart is so happy because I KNOW how proud their Papa would be if he could see them in that moment. And most days, when those moments come, I'm able to tell them just that--and not break down.

We've had a lot of changes in the past year, but especially in the past 6 months. Due to a job promotion, we moved from Oklahoma to South Texas only 6 weeks after finding out. It was also the middle of the school year, so we had a house to sell, new schools to look into, temporary housing to locate in a city we knew nothing about. We had to leave our church home and all of our dear friends, and move to a place where we only knew people Sean worked with. We are now 12 hours or more from our nearest family, except for one aunt and uncle. We finally found a new home after 4 months of being in an apartment, so we've spent the last 2 months moving and getting settled, as well as updating all of our adoption paperwork after the move. And after 5 months, we've finally managed to find a new church home.

We are beginning to find our new normal. We are starting to settle in. And now, as things are finally starting to slow down after this year of changes, I'm finally being forced to deal with all of the emotions that I've crammed down deep inside. I'm finally having to face reality, to go through day to day life with some time to myself once again. And I'm realizing how much of the emotion and grief I've suppressed. It's easy to ignore when your life is chaotic and busy. But once you slow down, when you find time to breathe, it all comes back to the surface and you're forced to deal with it head-on.

So we are working our way to normalcy...or some form of it. I must say, I don't write all of this for you to feel bad for me. I am hurt, I am changed, but I will be fine. And I am truly, utterly blessed. This move has been so good for us in so many ways and it's already beginning to feel like home. And I know one day, the pain won't be as strong, the waves of grief won't wash over me as frequently or with the same intensity. This is my struggle, my issue, and so many others have so much more to deal with than I can even begin to imagine. So please don't feel bad for me.

My purpose in sharing is just to shed light. To show anyone reading this that this is what grief looks like for me. And hopefully, to help someone understand that everyone's grief is different. And everyone's grief is their own--it's a journey only they can take. No one else needs to understand it; no one truly can. There is no right or wrong and as much as psychologists study, they will still never pinpoint exactly what you should feel and when. So if you're struggling today, if you've lost someone, if you're going through a difficult time, please know that what you're feeling is OK. Take as much time as you need to get through it to the other side.

Above all, know that as I walk through this new phase of life and it's unique-to-me challenges, I am praying for you...for all of you that struggle today as I do. I may not know your name, but I know the God who does. So I ask Him to comfort you, to heal you, to give you peace, to bring you to the other side of this struggle stronger than you were before, and closer to Him than you've ever been.

When We Hurt For Our Children

Parenting is hard. It's hard and sometimes ugly. You don't get an owner's manual when you have a child. There are no "do this and your kid will respond this way" instructions. Oh there are plenty of parent help books. And Lord knows you get oodles of advice from everyone around you--whether they have kids of their own or not. The problem is, children are not made from cookie cutters. They have thoughts, feelings, experiences, struggles that are unique to them. No one else has been exactly where they are. So you're on your own, essentially, trying to weed your way through all of the advice and the experience of others. You try a million different things for your given situation, hoping and praying that something, anything will stick. That somehow you'll come out on the other side a little wiser, with a child who's issue has been resolved, both of you no worse for the wear.

Our oldest is struggling. He has the normal 13 year old issues--kids at school picking on him, trying to figure out who he is, not a child yet not quite an adult, trying to fit in and stand out all at the same time, hormonal changes. And to top it all off, he's the oldest. So he's trying to navigate all of this while WE try to navigate all of this, for the first time, with our first born.

My heart hurts for him. He is such an amazing kid. He's kind, helpful, outgoing, creative, structured, precise, loving, and giving. He's an awesome big brother, most of the time. He has great ideas and a huge heart and I love him more than words can begin to describe. So my heart hurts for him when I see him going through the exact same things I did at 13. He can't see past the here and now. He can't fully understand that it's okay to be yourself and that it doesn't matter AT ALL what other people think or say. He doesn't yet have the self-confidence to stand on his own two feet against the world, even on the small scale of middle school. I can't fight this battle for him. We are no longer at a point where Mommy can rush in, scoop him up, kiss his boo-boos and make it all better.

So instead I get to love him, encourage him, be patient with him. Even as he lashes out in anger and frustration at me, his dad, his siblings--I have to extend grace, knowing that it comes from a deeper place, a hurting place. It comes from growing up.

I am so amazed at the young man he is becoming. He's so thoughtful, so willing to give of himself. He's incredibly smart and already stands taller than me. He's no longer a child, but he will always be my baby, the child who made me a mom for the first time. So I do all that I can do myself. Then I turn to the One who loves my son more than I could ever comprehend, the One who can help him, heal him and make him whole. My Jesus. And I trust Him to do the things I cannot do myself. I trust Him with my son.

I believe when we hurt for our children, we are, quite possibly, as close as we could be to understanding the love of God. We are His children, after all. He loves us so much more than we realize, He hurts so much deeper as He watches us struggle. He sees our pain, our doubts, our fears, our failure. Yet He allows us to learn, to grow, to become the men and women He created us to be through these experiences--all the while loving, guiding, encouraging us and being patient with us. He extends His grace, because He knows that our sinful nature thrives on the hurt found deep within us. And He patiently waits, comforting us in our struggles, until the day we turn to Him, trust Him, and allow Him to heal us and make us whole.

Just some food for thought.

Homemade Taco Seasoning

I've been waiting to share this recipe for months now. As I've said before, I only want to pass along recipes, routines, and ideas that I've personally tried and found to be better than the norm. This recipe is simply amazing. My husband noticed immediately the first time I used it and absolutely loved it. My kids didn't notice specifically what had changed, but ALL of them commented on how good dinner was that night. I think that alone makes this praiseworthy! LOL

This recipe makes enough seasoning for 1 POUND of meat. If you were to make it in multiple so as to have it on hand, it will take either a little more measuring (to figure out how much to pull out of a bulk batch for each time) OR you could put it in individual baggies to store for later use. Personally, since it only takes a few minutes to make, I just make it while the hamburger/ground turkey browns. As I usually buy my ground turkey in bulk, I most often brown all of it at once, doubling or tripling the seasoning recipe and then saving the leftover taco meat, freezing it for later use. It's a great, easy way to have some on hand for a quick meal in the future!


Homemade Taco Seasoning:

1 T. chili powder
1/4 t. garlic powder
1/4 t. onion powder
1/4 t/ crushed red pepper
1/4 t. dried oregano
1/2 t. paprika
1 1/2 t. ground cumin
1 t. salt
1 t. pepper

Mix together well. Add to already browned meat. Then add 1/3 c of water, stir, and let simmer for a few minutes! Super easy.

We have found this to be a truly yummy recipe, one that is not too spicy and not too bland. Plus, it has no preservatives or other additives--just seasoning, just good for you! I hope you love it as much as we do!

Enjoy!

13 Weeks

It's been 13 weeks today. 13 weeks since I learned my daddy was gone. 13 weeks since my world changed in ways I still don't fully comprehend. 13 weeks. In so many ways, it feels like yesterday. In so many ways, I still don't believe it's real. It's gone from gut wrenching, ugly cry pain to...well...odd really. It just feels weird. I know the reality is my dad is gone. But in so many ways, I just don't feel he is.

I remember the events of that weekend so vividly. We were busy planning for my husband's graduation and incoming family. Due to a change in the date of the graduation itself, we were spending one weekend having the graduation and the following weekend having his celebration party. We had family coming in both weekends. We were busy trying to figure out who all was coming on which weekend and where we'd put everyone to sleep.

My mom and step-dad had decided to come in on Sunday morning in time for an early lunch to celebrate Mother's Day and would stay through the graduation Monday night before heading back to KS.  My husband's mom and step-dad were coming in on Monday afternoon and would be staying for the graduation that night and leaving Tuesday morning. Daddy had decided it was most important for him to be there for the graduation itself. We thought he'd be riding with one of my brothers when one of them came in. We'd been texting back and forth about it all week, trying to solidify plans.

I spoke with him on Wednesday on my way to pick up our daughter from preschool. I was so excited to tell him about how we'd decided to home school the two younger boys. We talked for a while about our plans for school and how we were all anticipating a great year ahead. I also let him know about the commercial my husband had been asked to shoot. He was so very happy and told me to make sure I told Sean how proud he was of him. I told him I had to run in to get our daughter so I'd talk to him later. We each said "I love you bunches" and hung up the phone. That was the last time I talked to my daddy...

Two days later I texted him to let him know neither of my brothers would be able to come down for the graduation, gave him the times our moms were both coming in and told him I hoped he'd still be able to make it. Around the same time my brother also texted him to let him know he wasn't able to go. Around 4:30 that afternoon we all got a group text from daddy. It simply said "I WILL NOT BE ABLE TO ATTEND SEAN'S GRADUATION, MUCH TO MY REGRET."

It was clear from the "all caps" message that he was upset. Was he angry? Was he disappointed? Did he, dear God, did he think there wouldn't be room? That he wouldn't be wanted there? That he was insignificant enough that he wouldn't be missed??? These are the horrible, heart wrenching things running through my mind every.single.day since May 12th.

You see, after he sent that text that day, he turned off his phone. He never turned it back on. I have no idea what he did for the 41 hours between the time he sent that last text message until he breathed his last breath. I have no idea what he was thinking or feeling. I know that he was likely disappointed he wouldn't make it. I know he was probably frustrated.

I just wish that wasn't how things ended. I wish...well...I don't know what I wish. I wish I knew how to handle this better. I wish I knew how to move on easier. I wish I knew how to let myself grieve. Unfortunately, I've kind of put myself on auto-pilot, going through the motions of every day life, the dealings of a family of 6, wife, mother, sister, daughter, friend. I've been going going going, moving from one thing to another, afraid that if I stop long enough to allow myself to feel anything, that I may never recover...

You see, I'm a daddy's girl. Always have been. And I just don't know how to keep going without him in my life. I keep wanting to text him, to call him, to check on him to see how he's feeling, to see what he's up to, to tell him something funny or awesome about one of the kids. I just want more time. I want more.

As hard as this is, as impossible as it seems to get through, one thing I know for certain. I have no idea how I would even be doing as well as I am if I didn't have the peace of knowing I'll see my daddy again. I can't imagine not resting in the assurance of his salvation. Even though I cannot see it now, I know in my heart this too shall pass. I know that little by little, day by day, I will begin to feel like myself again. I know that, some day, while a piece of my heart will still be missing, it won't hurt as badly as it does now. I know that someday I'll be able to look at my children, my nieces and nephews, my siblings and my husband, and smile...knowing how daddy would've loved to be there.

For now, I cling to the hope I have in Christ, the future I will have with my daddy in heaven one day. And although the majority of me is still just trying to hold it together, trying not to lose it, trying to get by, a small part of me is rejoicing as I picture my daddy, fully enjoying his new found time in the presence of our Savior. That helps me smile.

When I Nearly Threw in the Towel

I can't believe it's been over a month since I've blogged. In fact, I'm not even sure what happened to the month of July. We've had a lot going on...we've traveled some, had some company, had some down time, had some work time. I can tell you every thing we've done for the last month...but I still can't believe it's already August! One of these days maybe I'll catch you up on some of our adventures, but today, I want to give you an adoption update!

Honestly, it's been rough. When we started this journey 16 months ago, I truly, naively believed we'd be home from China by now, holding our daughter and learning how to add another member to our family. In fact, in all of the scenarios I played in my head, having us still waiting to even be matched with a child at this point was never one of them. But I'm realizing that life is a journey, and God's plans are not our plans. I may never understand, this side of heaven, why this is playing out the way it is, but one thing I do know: no matter what I think is best, His ways are better than I ever imagined.

That being said, believing something in your head and feeling it at the core of who you are, many times, can be two different things. The last few months, waiting and waiting and waiting some more, not really knowing the process just knowing our daughter's file wasn't ready...it began to wear on me. I began to doubt. I began to wonder if, while waiting for her, we should just "run over and get a second child" so at least we'd be doing something, able to love on someone, while we wait for her. I even began emailing my husband pics of other children who are waiting, suggesting we go over now for one of them, thinking maybe we should just adopt two while we are over there (you know, save on airline fees of two trips, lol), etc. I'm pretty sure he thought I was almost certifiable. But, loving husband that he is, he was patient, he was kind. He just reassured me that he was confident in where we are.

(On a somewhat side note, I believe I've mentioned on here that faith is my spiritual gift. It most definitely is. However, I'm learning the one area where this gifting is not as strong is when it comes to my children! Definitely something to work on...)

There have been so many road blocks, so many times where we just.didn't.know. what we needed to. We've been in this waiting phase for so long, while I "watch" others in my adoption groups online come in after me, get matched, go get their child and come home. It's a blessing to watch their stories unfold and share in their joy and learn from their journeys. But it is also so heart-wrenchingly difficult. I just keep thinking, "We are here, ready for this child. She is there, ready for parents. WHY is this so difficult to accomplish?!?!" And that is where my faith grew weak, my questions grew stronger, and the doubt crept in. I began to wonder if I was ready to throw in the towel and just ask our agency to look for another referral...

Instead, I emailed our contact, who is gradually becoming a friend, to see if there was something, anything she knew about our little girl's paperwork process. She emailed back with what is possibly the best news we've had outside of finding out her name and DOB! Not only did her paperwork head off to the Provincial headquarters in June (which likely means it's at the main headquarters, file complete, ready to be handed out!!) BUT she also told us that in the last few months, the other agency, the one who has a partnership with our daughter's area, who could likely get her file, who was our BIGGEST hurdle (bc if they did, it was over, we'd never get her file, as they don't transfer them to other agencies)...THEY NO LONGER HAVE THAT PARTNERSHIP!!!! They no longer receive the majority of referrals from that area!!!! Our chances of actually getting or finding her file just increased dramatically!!!! PRAISE JESUS!!!

Now, I will not say that this makes things easy, because we still have a lot to do to actually get her file. It is still an uphill battle. We still will need God to work miracles in order for this to happen. But we have surpassed one of 3 great hurdles that could keep us from getting her! We are in a better position than we've ever been in our process! And I...well I have renewed hope. Just when I nearly threw in the towel and questioned everything I'd believed to be true about this process up til now...God moved a mountain for us, for little 'ol me. I said it on FB, but quite honestly, after months of basically faking it, trying to plug into life when all I wanted to do was be alone and cry, I honestly, truly had a great day. Life, for that moment, felt normal. It was such a blessing.

So after discussing it with my husband, and gathering as much information as we could, we took another step of faith. We asked our agency to petition our daughter's government for her file. We'd been told before we should only ask ONE more time. We did. So we wait. And pray and pray and pray. The new "list" comes out late this evening. If our agency hasn't heard back on her file, they will be searching the list for it, hoping that if we don't find it that it wasn't there yet, rather than that someone else got it before we could. Once again, I will be a basket case today...trying to keep myself busy.

Will you please pray with us? Join us in petitioning our Father on behalf of the daughter we so desperately want to bring home. Pray her file truly is there. Pray for softened hearts in her government officials. Pray we either receive or find her file this week. And please, please, pray for peace...peace in our hearts for whichever path God takes us on next in this journey to our little girl.

It's The Little Things

So from time to time, little things remind me of my daddy. Sometimes they make my heart ache...a physical, painful ache that leaves me needing to put my hand over my heart and just weep. They are difficult, sometimes random, but I know they are completely normal and I believe they are gradually healing my heart.

For example, one that I was not expecting at all: the end of the military honors portion of daddy's graveside service. I thought at this point I was all ugly-cried out. I mean, I knew more tears would come, but I thought, at least for the day, that my ugly cries were behind me. As we drove into the cemetery, the Air Force Servicemen were already there. As daddy's casket arrived in the hearse, they stood at attention and slowly saluted. It was so beautiful. I cried some there, but not the ugly cry...yet. Then they stood at attention as daddy's pastor spoke. They began to fold the flag--such a beautiful, silent scene as they treated the flag, and daddy's casket with the utmost care. They played Taps, which was hard to listen to and made tears fall again. And then it happened. I knew it was coming. My brothers had decided that, with me being the oldest and the only girl, the flag should be presented to me. I knew that would be hard. What I didn't expect was HOW they would present it.

The Airman turned toward me where I sat, got down on one knee, placed the flag in my hand and gently but firmly held his hands over mine on the top and bottom of the folded flag. He then, looking me straight in the eye without flinching at all, said the following:

"On behalf of the President of the United States, and a grateful nation, we thank you for the service of your loved one..."

I barely heard the rest. I have no idea how he held it together. My face was contorted in an attempt to keep from wailing as the tears streamed down my face and sobs wracked my body, causing my chest and shoulders to convulse. It was so incredibly beautiful. There are no other words. It was a moment I will never forget...

There are other things though, that make me smile and some even make me laugh out loud. Like the day I saw a Model A or Model T (Daddy would've known which one it was) as I was leaving our neighborhood. He always loved those things. Or before daddy's funeral when I was on the phone with the VA discussing his military benefits. One of the things they said we would receive was a Certificate of Honorable Service (or something like that). I was about to start crying on the phone as the lady was saying this until she uttered the words..."signed by the President himself"...at which point it was all I could do not to die laughing.

If you knew my father at all, you understand why this would be so funny. As some of you don't, let me enlighten you. My father was an American Patriot through and through. He loved his country. He believed in it's Constitution and the freedom so many have fought and died for. But, like most Americans at different times, he didn't care at all for the current President. We've all been there--no matter what your party affiliate.  So I'm sure you can see the humor I found in the fact that the last presentation for his honor will be signed by a president he didn't like. LOL. I could almost hear him laughing with me. It was good to laugh.

All this to say, I find myself noticing, not the big things--although they are equally as good--but the little things. The daily things that make me smile or cry, that make me miss him, want to call or text him. It's all still very surreal, even now. It's been nearly 2 months and sometimes I find I have to remind myself that he's gone. Other times I find my heart aches all day long. But God is good. I know this full well. So for now I enjoy the little things that stir my heart, knowing that whether they bring smiles or tears, they ultimately also bring healing.

Lifelong Dream--Check

There are times in our lives when we allow ourselves to dream. I don't mean the daily, little dreams. I mean the big, chance-of-a-lifetime dreams. You know, just like the ones you have as a kid, when you're innocent enough to believe the sky is the limit--the time before "life" has happened, has changed you and your dreams. All too often as adults, I believe, we fail to dream that way. We let our circumstances determine our future instead of the other way around. We allow ourselves to settle, to accept that this is our lot in life, that big dreams and big opportunities are only for other people.

But sometimes, dreams creep in and firmly take hold in the back of our minds. Sometimes, when we are honest with ourselves, we allow those dreams to come out of the recesses of our souls. We allow them to dance and play in our hearts. We allow ourselves to dream as a child once again. I believe it is in those rare moments that we are truly our REAL selves. And sometimes, we are blessed enough to see those dreams become a reality.

This last weekend was one of those times for my husband. A number of years ago, he took an interest in learning to play poker. It's a hobby of his, just like playing golf. And he's gotten really good at it. I'm always amazed at how quickly he can calculate his odds, figure out the number of "outs" he has, the "pot" ratios and make a move in any given hand. Meanwhile (if I'm playing too which is rare, as I'm NOT as skilled, LOL) I'm still trying to figure out what I even have and if it's a "good" hand or not! My husband has even, in more recent years, formed a poker league with a regular group of guys that meet every month. They rotate between 3 different houses, have a system of game rotation, and even take a "rake" of each poker night to be held back for the end of the year tournament. I'm telling ya, they are serious! But they have such a great time and we've truly been blessed by this great group of guys and their families. They even held a fundraiser poker tournament for our adoption! But anyway...

Back when we had cable (which we really don't miss btw, but that's a whole other story!) Sean enjoyed the times he could watch the World Series of Poker (WSOP) and follow the months long tournament to the "Main Event" and final table. He even read bios on some of the players! It's cute.  :)

He spoke regularly of his dream to play in the WSOP. He even had my daddy saying he was gonna save money to bankroll his entry some day (a buy-in to the main event is 10K!! Sheesh. Yeah, NOT in our budget!). It's been a long held dream. One that he's mentioned in some of his quieter moments...when he's allowing himself time to drift away from the everyday and be that kid again.

As a graduation gift for getting his MBA, his parents took us to Las Vegas for an extended weekend. We hadn't been there since 2004 (and that was on business) so we were excited to go. We were also looking forward to getting away as adults for just a bit, especially after all of the events of the last month. My parents were gracious enough to come watch the kids while we were gone.

Low and behold, the FIRST night we were there, Sean noticed an article in a magazine mentioning that the WSOP WAS GOING ON RIGHT NOW.  We all agreed it'd be cool to go over to the Rio and just look around, to get a feel for what it was like. But when we got there, we realized that there were tournaments going on and starting and ending all. weekend. long.  Now Sean's parents had already said they wanted to pay for him to play in a tournament in Vegas because they knew how much he'd enjoy it. We never thought it would work out to play in a WSOP tournament! But hey, lifelong dreams don't come up all the time!

He debated all of the different options for tournaments, and finally settled on a Hold'em Deep Stack tournament. It was to start at 10pm! He could've played in one that would lead to another and another and possibly end up at the main event in July. However, that would require him to play all weekend long. Since we wanted to sight see and spend time with his parents, that wasn't going to work. And since that wasn't why we'd come, it wasn't really even appealing. But he WAS excited about playing in a one-time tournament.

Long story short, he did AWESOME! We left the Rio at 6AM the next morning! Yes, that's 8 HOURS of playing. Every 2 hours they'd get a 20 minute break. He ended up at the final table of 9 people (out of 170 people who started!) and they decided it'd been long enough and opted to "chop" the winnings at that point. 1st place got $3500, 2nd got $2500 and everyone else got $1200!!! The buy-in was only $135, so that's nearly a 10x return on investment! He finished in the top 5% when his average has been the top 10%. And he got to fulfill a lifelong dream to play at the WSOP...at those tables, on that floor, where he'd watched all the pros and other people play for years.

I couldn't help but think Daddy would've been so proud! I know Sean's parents and I were! We spent the rest of the weekend hanging out, seeing Ray Romano live, eating food that is now requiring a detox LOL, and generally just having an amazing time. We are so blessed by our amazing parents who allowed us to go by watching our kids and who paid for us to go and for Sean to play!! It truly was a great trip. 
Lifelong dream--CHECK!  :)

Bittersweet

I haven't posted an adoption update on here for a while because, well, there's really nothing to post. We haven't even had contact with our agency in over a month. That's not a bad thing. There just hasn't been a need. We are waiting for this specific little girl to be "paperwork ready" and are not interested in looking at other children in the mean time because we feel we've been led to THIS specific child. Our agency knows this. And both sides realize it will be a number of months until she is ready. So there's no need to do anything other than wait at this point.

At first, when we found out in April that it would be considerably longer than we'd expected, I was upset. I didn't understand why God was having us wait when we'd willingly jump on the next available plane if given the chance. I still don't understand why God allows certain things to happen the way that He does.

Now, almost two months later, I know that, in part, He is preparing me to be the best mom I can be for her. And He knew that right now, as much as I'd like to be, I would not be ready to handle bringing her home. He knew my time with my dad was short. He knew the days, hours and minutes he had left. He knew that, although I would trust in His plan no matter what, I would still be utterly lost at this point. He knew I would not be ready. So God, in His wisdom, in His divine providence, allowed me to wait longer.

None of this is what I would choose. Every single thing that I hold to be true is being tested. Every belief re-examined. I've never been in this situation before, losing someone so close to me. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. But in the deepest part of my soul, I know I am being refined. I am being given the opportunity to question everything I've ever believed--and finding it all to be very real, very true. Some of the things I've been forced to reconsider:

Is God truly in control?

Does God really work for my good in ALL situations?

Is it possible to go on after losing someone so dear?

Do I still firmly believe that HOW we die is inconsequential, but WHEN we die was laid out before we were ever born?

Does God take people only when they are done with their purpose here on earth?

Will I ever get to a point where I once again feel like I'm enjoying life rather than just getting through each day?

Do I trust that God knows best, even when I never got to say goodbye?

Is God truly who He says He is?

Do I still believe God is good ALL the time?


These are only a few of the things I've been pondering the last 3 weeks. There's too much to list here. They come up at random times, random places. Sometimes they give me pause, sometimes they bring me to tears, sometimes they leave me angry. But the resounding answer to EVERY. SINGLE. ONE, every time? YES. YES. YES. YES.

I still believe every single thing I've ever held to be true, even though life is extremely hard for me right now.

And I'm finding that God's provision goes beyond any one incident, to weave together a plan bigger than we could ever imagine.

You see, I have things to work through, things to settle in my heart before I can give our youngest daughter the attention she deserves, before I can be there for her wholly. I need time to heal. God is using this to draw me closer to Him, to bring me to a place of utter dependence on Him, on His timing, on His plan...not my own.

And all through this, God is providing. Giving me a family who is patient with my healing, friends who know exactly what I need to hear at exactly the right time, a summer schedule that allows me the freedom to heal at a slower, more complete pace than school time would allow. He's flooding my mind with happy memories, little reminders of all that Daddy was to me.

And God, in all His wisdom, is allowing Daddy to provide for his new granddaughter, who he SO wanted to meet, even after his death. You see, friends, the remainder of Daddy's life insurance is going directly into our adoption fund. It's an amount he could never have given while he was alive, as he was a man of little means. But if he'd had it, he would've gladly given it. He wanted to meet her, to hold her, to tell her all about his Jesus who loves her.  Since he will not meet her this side of heaven, the next best thing we can do is to honor him in this way. He would LOVE to know he is having such a big impact, that some good is coming from our loss. It is bittersweet for me.

A friend posted this on her blog a while back and it is ringing so true today:

Sweet is nice enough.
But bittersweet is beautiful, nuanced, full of depth & complexity.
Bittersweet is courageous, gutsy, earthy.
                      --Shauna Niequist

It's Not Goodbye

I wrote the following piece for Daddy's funeral. Somehow, I managed to defy the odds and get through the whole thing myself, although I'll admit I didn't look up and simply read what I'd written. My brothers also managed to play their guitars and sing. I am SO proud of them. Daddy would've absolutely loved it. He was so proud of them learning to play the guitar and enjoyed every time he got to hear them play. He would've had tears in his eyes and a huge smile on his face listening to them that day. It was nothing short of amazing. I followed shortly after with this:

How do you put into words how you feel about the first man to ever hold your heart? My friend, my hero, my teacher, my guide, my fixer-of-all-things...my daddy. He held my hand, taught me to ride a bike, taught me to drive, taught me how to change my oil and change a tire. He encouraged me to try new things, to stand on my own two feet, to believe in myself, to never give up. He showed me the beauty in God's creation and convinced me that there is value and worth in every human being. He taught me to live life to the fullest and to take advantage of every moment I have left on this earth. He told me he loved me, told me I was beautiful, told me I was his princess.  And he always reminded me to share the love of Jesus with everyone I meet and to keep a smile on my face. 

Many things could be said about my daddy, about his hard-headedness, his love for chatting about Jesus and politics for hours on end. And while I may not remember all of you when I see you today, chances are I could tell you a story about each of you. Daddy loved to tell stories. But of all the things I could say about my dad, of all the things I could leave you with to remember him by, I think the most important thing was that he was passionate. He knew what he believed and he wasn't afraid to share it with anyone who would listen. How many of us truly live life with passion and conviction? I can only hope I can be half as passionate in the time I have left as my daddy was. 

I am so very grateful for the last 4 1/2 years we had, knowing that his time was limited. We were forced to focus on the important rather than the trivial and to embrace every moment we had together. I am also grateful that God granted Daddy his last wish, which was to go peacefully, in his sleep, just like his Uncle Ira had done. 

While my heart is utterly broken and there will forever be a part of me missing; while right now I don't know how I'll get through tomorrow, let alone the rest of my life without him, I have peace in knowing I will see him again in heaven because he gave his heart to Jesus. I love you, Daddy, more than words can say. This is not "goodbye", just "see ya later".

For the last week, I've had so many emotions. Hurt, despair, anger, frustration, confusion, pain. Now I'm simply numb. I seem, at this point, to be past the ugly cry and the weepiness. Now I find myself trying to remember that he's truly gone, reminding myself that he really won't be calling or texting or emailing soon. I often catch myself lost in deep thought, memories of times with Daddy flooding my mind. I can feel his hugs, feel the roughness of his weathered skin as he holds my hand, hear his voice as he says, "Hiiii, baby!" when we see each other after a few weeks apart. I keep thinking that someone has made a mistake and I'm going to wake up soon.  It just seems so unreal.  So I have to remind myself that it is, in fact, very real.

His service was unbelievably beautiful. From the video of pictures that told his life story, set on a background of music he loved, to the many things people shared, to my brothers singing. Even the gut-wrenching ugly cry that came, once again, as the Air Force went through the Military Honors portion of his graveside service and presented me with his flag...it was utterly beautiful and demonstrated, not a perfect life, but a life made perfect by the love of a redeeming God.

And he left a video. Back in January he'd made an hour long video of his life story. An HOUR long. 60 full minutes we have of watching our Dad, of hearing his voice. Video that will forever keep him alive, keep him present, both for us and for our children as we grieve his loss. I have no doubt it will be a huge comfort in those days and hours and moments when we are missing him terribly. I am SO thankful he did that. SO incredibly thankful.

I've been avoiding the radio for the last week. Music is a huge part of my life. It reaches the depths of who I am and allows me to bear my soul. But since daddy died, I think I've been on emotion overload and therefore trying to avoid anything that would bring more emotion to the surface. Two days ago, though, I allowed myself to to flip through the channels, hoping that nothing too deep would be playing. I realized a new Carrie Underwood song was playing, so I turned it up. It ended up being just what I needed to hear. It was refreshing and comforting to my hurting heart and there was so much truth in the words she sang. I believe it will be a song I listen to for years to come. It's called "See You Again".

Said goodbye,
Turned around and you were gone, gone, gone...
Faded into the setting sun,
Slipped away.
But I won't cry 'cause I know,
I'll never be lonely,
For you are the stars to me,
You are the light I follow.
I will see you again, woah.
This is not where it ends.
I will carry you with me, oh...
Til I see you again.
I can hear those echos in the wind at night
Calling me in time, back to you.
In a place far away where the water meets the sky,
The thought of it makes me smile.
You were my tomorrow.
I will see you again, woah.
This is not where it ends.
I will carry you with me, oh...
Til I see you again.
Sometimes I feel my heart is breaking...
But I stay strong and I hold on
Cause I know...
I will see you again, woah.
This is not where it ends.
I will carry you with me, yeah yea
I will see you again, woah.
This is not where it ends.
I will carry you with me, oh...
Til I see you again.
Til I see you again.
Said goodbye, turned around and you were gone, gone, gone.

Til I see you again, Daddy...

4 and a Half Years Ago...

I'm re-posting the following from Feb. 17, my Daddy's birthday this year.  Many of you already know I lost my daddy a week ago Sunday. It's been a long, hard week, but we are getting through it one day at a time. Tomorrow I will share what I said at his funeral on Thursday.

**WARNING** Extremely emotional post to follow.

4 1/2 years ago, in October, I was excitedly expecting the birth of my first daughter in a matter of months. I was working part time at a preschool that I loved and my life was simply amazing. I had turned 30 the year before and had received THE BEST birthday present ever. My daddy had told me a few weeks after my birthday that he had quit smoking a month earlier. He had smoked for over 50 years, people. This was a BIG DEAL. And it had been one of my heart's deepest desires, one of my most fervent prayers, the hope of a little girl for her daddy to give up his life-threatening bad habit. Finally, it had happened, and so unexpectedly.

So I got a call in October a year later (back to 4 1/2 years ago) from my dad late one night. Through tears, more for my sake than his own fear, my daddy told me he'd thought he had pneumonia so he went to the doctor. He walked away from an ER visit with the assumption of the ER doctor that he needed more testing, but likely had lung cancer. LUNG CANCER. It wasn't completely unexpected, given his recently ended habit, but it was still just as hard to hear. We cried together. I called my baby brother to let him know dad was trying to reach him. He also called our middle brother. The news devastated us all. He said he was going to the VA in the morning for a second opinion because he was not impressed with the vague answers he got at the local hospital.

After discussing it with my husband that night, I decided I would make the 3 1/2 hour drive to the VA to be there with my dad in the morning. I had no idea how long I would be staying. I just knew I needed to be there. When I walked in the following morning, I had gotten there just in time. My dad and my aunt were waiting to get into his appointment. Only there was a problem. The Dr had been unexpectedly called out for a family emergency. They wanted my dad to be seen the following day instead. I stepped into the discussion, pleading for an appointment that day, explaining my father needed answers and was clearly in need of a doctor. He hadn't even been able to walk in to the ER from the parking lot because his breathing was too labored. He had been sitting in a wheel chair while waiting and although he was exerting no energy, he was still unable to breathe. The triage nurse said it was a no-go. He'd have to wait. I told her fine, we'd walk down to the ER instead. After much arguing and not giving up on our part, she finally said she'd "take his stats, and if they warranted it, let us go to the ER." Needless to say, his Pulse-Ox was only 82% rather than the 90+ it should've been. Idiot nurse finally did her job and sent us to the ER. Little brothers joined me and my aunt in waiting for answers. When I got to go back to see my dad, the Dr came in and asked if he'd ever had a heart attack. He answered that he'd never had one, but the Dr assured him he was having one at that moment. He was sent to ICU. Over the next few hours tests were run and he was told he'd be transferred to St Francis to see a specialist. Tests showed he had actually had numerous "silent" heart attacks over a period of probably years and may need bypass surgery. My brothers and I had grabbed supper while we waited for the paperwork and transfer. We got to St Francis and were met by the chaplain who wanted me to sign paperwork to become my dad's Medical Power of Attorney in case he was incapacitated and couldn't make decisions. Dad needed to sign before going under sedation. Real life decisions hit REAL quick. The reality of being an adult, the oldest in the family, and a future of possibly making life and death decisions for one of my parents sucker-punched me in the gut.

Over the next week, my dad was determined not to be a candidate for bypass. They opted for placing stints instead to open up his arteries. He had a total of 3 of them placed. After the surgery, the Dr told us one of his major arteries was 100% blocked (leaving part of his heart muscle dead), one was 60% blocked and one was 40% blocked. He had been functioning on only 15% of his heart. They said if he had gone home the first day instead of to the ER, he wouldn't be here. **Insert future plan to write Cardiologist at VA letter about the asinine triage nurse.** After the hospital stay, dad stayed with my aunt for a few days then came to stay with us for 2 weeks while he recovered and adjusted to life on medication as well as a new diet. A few months later, he received his diagnosis of Congestive Heart Failure, as well as a prognosis of 5-10 years...

Long post, I realize, but I wanted to give you the back story. Today my daddy turns 72. Today it has been 4 1/2 years. My daddy was given a second chance. I don't know how accurate the 5-10 year prognosis is or how much time we have left. He is doing as well as can be expected now and taking better care of himself in order to have as long as possible. So today, I'm thankful. I'm thankful for medical professionals who know what they're doing. I'm thankful we were persistent with the one who didn't so he could be seen. I'm thankful my daddy was around to meet my first daughter, and, God-willing, that he'll be here when we bring our second one home from China this summer. I'm thankful for celebrating his 70th with him and making a big deal of him that day. I'm thankful, believe it or not, for the CHF forcing us to realize, you can't take life for granted. You can't assume you have forever. You can't live in the past and you can't predict the future. But you CAN live today, in the here and now. You CAN tell those you love how much you love them. You CAN live life intentionally, on purpose. So today, I celebrate my daddy. The man I've looked up to my whole life. The man who never let me forget I was his princess. The man who let me know he had my back, no matter what, until the day he handed that job over to my husband and became my back-up.  ;)  I'm thankful for the time I've been given so far and for whatever time remains.  I'm thankful for second chances. Happy Birthday to the first man to ever hold my heart! I love you more than words Daddy!

The Long Road Home

I've been rather quiet lately regarding our adoption. It wasn't really intentional, although I believe it may have been a subconscious way of avoiding on my part. We're in the phase of adoption where we truly are at the mercy of the system...a backwards, confusing and sometimes very frustrating system.

I want to be clear though. We are BLESSED. We should NOT have any information on our daughter at this point. She's not technically even in the system. Yet, by God's grace, we continue to get bits and pieces of information, some big, some small--but ALL blessings.

We got word last week that she's further behind in the "process" of becoming adoptable than we had previously thought. Based on where she currently is, and judging from the journeys others have been on at the same point in the process, it could easily be another 6 months before her file is even ready--before she's officially adoptable. And from the time we get matched, with any child, the average time is 4-6 months before we get to travel to get her. SO...add those up. Yep. It could easily be another YEAR before we are able to hold our little girl. Now you can understand why I've been rather quiet.

Part of me is heartbroken and physically pained when I consider another entire year of not having my daughter home. Yet part of me is extremely grateful that, if we must wait, at least we wait knowing that she's in foster care...she's in a family home setting and not an orphanage where cribs line the walls and open spaces and the children are institutionalized. She is safe and loved and happy. Still another part of me asks Why? Why must we wait this long when we love her so much? When we'd gladly leave TOMORROW to get her if it was possible? Why is THIS the process for us when we sit back and watch so many others have a straight-forward, "typical" international adoption?

And yet (and I know we've said this time and again) she's worth every pain, every frustration, every discomfort, every piece of paperwork...all of it...including the wait. No matter how long it takes, no matter what we must go through, no matter how many people tell us "maybe it's time to look at other children"...we will wait. You may not understand or you may just think we're nuts, but she's our daughter. It's that simple.

So she's clearly taking the long road home. Not by anyone's choice. Not by anyone's preference. Not even to anyone's understanding. Only God, in His infinite wisdom, knows why this is the road we are on, the road she is on. Maybe it will be clear someday. Maybe we'll never know this side of heaven. Either way, we continue to wait, to hope, to pray.

We covet your prayers during this time. Some days are easier than others. Some days are horrible. If we come to mind on any given day, please stop to say a prayer for us. It may just be one of those days we desperately need it.  :)

Nausea

It's that feeling you get when you're ill. The one when you feel like you could throw up at any moment. It's also the one you get when you're so wrapped up in the emotion of a situation that you don't know your head from a hole in the wall. It's the frustration of being helpless to do anything. Just sitting and waiting and waiting and sitting. You try to find ways to fill the time, but it doesn't matter. It's always there. That feeling.

That's where we're at right now. I would love to tell you that it's all candy and roses and counting the days. But the truth is, it's ugly and raw and hopeless and painful and stressful and frustrating and crazy and long and difficult and exhausting. Fighting for a child you know in your heart is your daughter...a child you've only seen in pictures...a child half a world away in need of her Mommy and Daddy and family.  Doing all you can on your end to get to her as fast as possible while it seems as though everyone else that has a job to do in the process is dragging their feet. Having SO MANY THINGS fall into place, answers to specific prayers, everything looking so positive and so hopeful...only to reach a point where you feel you're the ONLY ones still believing this will ever happen, the only ones fighting to get to her, while others have just given up and stopped trying.

You want to scream. Cry. Throw something. Hit someone. Show up in person to get your questions answered. GET ON A FREAKING PLANE AND FLY TO CHINA!!!!!! At this point, they all seem better than what you can do...which is wait. Which seems like nothing.

The truth is, we are not right. We don't feel right. We don't look right (to ourselves). Because our family is not complete. One of us is missing. It's the very real, very open and gaping hole in who we are now. Although Mei Mei has never been "with" us, she's now very much a part of us--of all of us. The only way I can describe it and even possibly have you understand is this:  It's the same way you feel when someone in your family has gone on a trip, even an overnight stay. You look around and everything is there--except them. And while it all functions well and everyone is okay, nothing is truly right. It's just off somehow. Because the absence of the other person is almost palpable. You can feel it in your soul.

So I don't want to worry you or scare you. We are okay. We are getting by. Some days are easier than others. Some days, like today, just SUCK. This is adoption. Good and bad, joy and sorrow, beauty and pain. As I've said so many times before. It's RAW. And although I feel at times like I may go completely insane before this process is complete, I know...in my heart, in my soul, at the core of my being...that it is worth every day of grief and heartache. SHE is worth it.

We covet your prayers at this time for our family. Prayers for peace, for comfort, for direction, for patience--we need it all! Thank you friends. From the bottom of our hearts, thank you.