June 6, 1996

They tumbled off a plane and into our lives 16 years ago. Jessica, Jesse, and Marcy flew from San Antonio, TX to Kansas City and we welcomed them. They were then 12, 11, and 10.

Anyone who has ever adopted older children know what a "honeymoon" period is. We didn't get one. They appeared ready to scrap and claw and see if we meant what we said. We had met them 8 weeks earlier after reading volumes of their history and talking to social workers, counselors, teachers, and foster parents. 

Their foster mother asked us if we knew what we were getting into and my Hero wisely answered, "How can we?" But we were committed.

We told the kids: 1. We are committed to you. 2. We will always be there for you. & 3. If you get into trouble we will be right there waiting... with consequences. 

They tested that. With God's grace, we stayed committed.

We didn't tell them we loved them because that's not what they needed to hear. They had been in foster care for 6 years. They had been placed in one home for adoption and sent back after 5 weeks. They had been told they were loved only to be sent away time and time again. They needed to know we were committed.

We did love them. With time, they began to understand and accept that. Through all the testing, our love grew. I can't imagine life without them.

They are all grown now. We talk on the phone. We laugh about their antics. We pray for them. We miss them when we can't be together on holidays. We are family.

There was no way we could know what we were getting into but I'm sure glad we did it anyway.

I am a writer

Why are those words scary? I've been published several times. I've actually been writing for as long as I can remember. I filled Big Chief Tablets with my happy tales. I went to school and earned a BA in English just to lend credibility to my writing.

And yet, when asked, I usually say, "I want to write." Why is it so hard to say, "I'm a writer"?

Maybe I'm hiding from expectations. If I only "want to write" and I post something good, its a surprise to everyone. If I say "I'm a writer" it better be good. There is an expectation.

Maybe it's time I lived up.

It's a Choice

And if it seem evil unto you to serve the Lord, choose you this day whom ye will serve; whether the gods which your fathers served that were on the other side of the flood, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land ye dwell: but as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord. (Joshua 24:15 KJV)

For several years I have really struggled in my heart with how my children have chosen to live their lives. We tried to raise them to love Jesus. We tried to raise them to serve Him. One by one, they grew up and walked away from Him. And my heart was broken. I questioned myself. I questioned my Hero. I questioned my faith. I even questioned God sometimes.

Others questioned us. Some who I believed were friends we're harshly judgemental. One man said, "There's obviously a leadership problem in the home." I understand the questions, but the barbs thrown our way only increased the pain we were already feeling.

For almost 10 years I have prayed and prayed and begged God to show me where I failed. Repeatedly, He has given me the same answer. It all comes down to a choice. My children chose to walk away.

 I know that in my head. Adam and Eve walked with God himself every evening and yet, when the devil presented a choice that appealed to the flesh, they chose that over the fellowship with God. It was a choice. Moses saw God face to face and talked to Him. But when Moses got angry, he chose to disobey God and smite the rock. It was a choice.

I know we didn't do everything right in raising our children. But I also know that if we had, they still may have chosen to walk away.

Years have passed and some of my children have spoken to us of returning to church. Some of them have even begun to attend church again. I don't think any of them would tell you today that they hate God. That wasn't the case not so long ago.

For me, I realized I had a choice, also. I could embrace my grief and get lost in my questions and become of no use to God. Or I could choose to continue praying for my children and entrust the outcome to Jesus. Most of the time, I choose the latter. Every once in a while, I realize I'm choosing to wallow. I have to continue to choose to trust.

P.S. I love all of my children fiercely and I hope if they read this, they know my heart. Each and every one of them has had struggles that most people never face. It has been hard for them. I don't know if I gave them the tools they needed to face the storms. I hope even when things are the darkest they know they have parents who love them greatly and are praying for them daily. And I hope they choose to remember that Jesus loves them.

God Reminded Me

Even though the weather was mild, it was a long winter. My Hero and I have struggled with many things, some of them harder than others.

Alone in my car, I sat in detoured traffic. Frustrated. I was frustrated with the traffic. I was frustrated with the struggles. I was frustrated with myself. To be honest, I was frustrated with God.

With a huge sigh, I said out loud, "I don't even know if this is worth it any more."

Then God spoke. It wasn't an audible voice. (I'm thankful for that. If He ever speaks to me in an audible voice, I will wet myself.) But I heard Him just the same.

A ladybug landed on my windshield.

You may have read my ladybug story. God uses the the simple ladybug regularly to remind me that He loves me.

That makes everything worth it.

I love the 21st Century

I know what I said here but I really do love technology.

In 1975 in order to get a book on a subject, I would have had to first get a ride to the library. That was much easier said than done. Our little town didn't have very good bus service either so that wasn't a big help.

After I got to the library, I had to search the card catalog. Yes, I do know the Dewey decimal system. Do you?

After I found a book on my subject in the card catalog, I had to go find it on the shelf. Usually, I could check the surrounding books and find other possibilities, too.

Then when I checked it out, the librarian took a card like this out of the book and stamped it with a date stamp and also stamped the book with the due date.

This is NOT 1975 anymore.

There were several books that were recommended reading from a group I know.

Instead of driving to the library, I jumped on the Internet and signed on to my local library. I searched and found the books and requested they be put on hold.

A couple of days later, I got an email that my requested items were ready.

This morning on my way to work, I stopped at the library, and grabbed my books off the hold shelf. I stepped over to the check-out computer, scanned my library card, dropped the stack of books on a computer pad and it spit out a receipt for me.

In literally 90 seconds, I was in and out of the library and on my way with my precious books.

Technology is cool!

Time for Carrots

I figured something out this morning.

The way the new year fell, we had a fellowship at church this morning and I took some finger foods. While I was preparing them, I was thinking about the new year and resolutions and such and I figured it out: we don't diet in the new year because we suddenly become health conscious or we have body image problems. We are just tired of cooking. This cooking thing has been going on since at least mid November!

So when my Hero asks me what's for dinner this evening, I will just say "Eat a carrot. You're fat.". Works for me..

Nana

My grandmother said it. My mother said it. I didn't understand until it happened to me. The moment you become a grandmother is nothing shy of miraculous. Eight years ago yesterday at almost midnight, I saw him for the first time. Eight years later I still marvel when I look at him. He is my future.

I could fill pages with the joy he brings me and at the same time, I am speechless.

I have others now—other grands. They, too, fill my heart with wonder.

But he is the first. He opened that portal. He introduced me to that joy.

Eight years and I hope to enjoy many, many more.