A look back as the countdown looms

I am 34 years old. I can only say that for six more days. If anyone tries to say I’m 35 before next Tuesday I will kick him in the shins. Last week Lee said something about how my 36th birthday was coming up. I beat him for it.

The same day my mom sent me a text and said, “Hey, wouldn’t it be fun to do a big spa trip when you turn 40 and I turn 65?” There were a few things wrong with that text – first, I AM ONLY 34! Can we not discuss 40 yet?

Please?

 

Also, I will only be 38 when she turns 65! *throws hands up in exasperation*

So, yeah. I’m about to officially be in my mid-thirties. An argument could probably be made for the fact that 34 is technically already the mid-thirties, but that’s not a conversation any of us need to have at this point. Because I don’t want to talk about it.

Crystal clear?

Now I can say there are some perks to aging, one of them being the benefit of laughing at pictures of yourself in years past. Enough time has gone by now for old pictures of me to be wildly hysterical, mainly because I grew up in the ’80’s and, you know…it was the ’80’s. So to commemorate me getting old(er), here are a few pictures from ages past and bygone styles.

You’re welcome.

 

1985: The partial mullet.

1985: The partial mullet.

 

3rd

1986: The Very Loud Button-Down

 

1987: Denim on Denim and feathered bangs.

1987: Denim on Denim and feathered bangs.

1988: Units belt, High tops with layered socks, Esprit Bag, Side Ponytail. I was ROCKING 5th grade.

 

1989: I discovered the crimping iron. Thank you, '80's, for so many wonderful and lasting styles.

1989: I discovered the crimping iron. Oh yes I did…

 

I blame this photo on a number of things: My parents, Jazz Dance and the '80's.

I blame this photo on a number of things: My parents, Jazz Dance and the ’80’s.

 

1991-ish with remnants of the '80's clinging on.

1991-ish with remnants of the ’80’s clinging on.

 

1991: The year of the Coolats, AKA 7th Grade, AKA The year I grew into my nose...

1992: The year of the Coolats (sp?), AKA 7th Grade, AKA The year I grew into my nose…

 

1995: Calming down a bit in the fashion department. Thankfully for all of us I couldn't find any pictures from 9th, which was a particularly tragic year of fashion for me. Think Sun-In meets short shorts meets way too much make up.

1995: Calming down a bit in the fashion department. Thankfully for all of us I couldn’t find any pictures from 9th grade, which was a particularly tragic year of fashion for me. Think Sun-In meets short shorts meets way too much make up.

I’m also missing several pictures that document those years when I fondly (read: obsessively) wore over-sized flannel shirts. I also had a deep love for overalls my senior year of high school, but then we all did. Don’t act like you didn’t wear them, too…

1999: Rocking the short overalls and a hottie on my arm.

1999: Rocking the short overalls and a hottie on my arm.

 

And, of course, there were about 6 years there when I wore babies. I actually miss those years...

And, of course, there were about 6 years there when I wore babies. I actually miss those years…

 

My current fashion of choice is yoga pants. I’m kind of kidding and kind of serious. I really love yoga pants. But I don’t want to get completely lost in the hole of my mid-thirties so I try to lose the yoga pants whenever possible and upgrade to something super fashionable…like a skort. And if I’m feeling particularly ambitious, I might even put on a pair of skinny jeans.

But then I spend the day feeling like I’m slowly suffocating to death.

My kids are going to have a field day making fun of me some day…

Here’s to many more years of fashion, both good and bad.

Saying Yes to the Good and Bad

yellowflower2

I’m learning a lot right now about what it means to say yes. By nature, my first response is not generally yes. I’m more of a “maybe, let me think about it, I’ll get back to you,” kind of a girl. Saying yes is scary because saying yes usually comes with some sort of responsibility attached.

(Unless, of course, someone asks me if I’d like some Nutella, at which point saying yes is non-negotiable and always rewarding…)

Last year Lee and I said “Yes” together to adoption and as most of you know – that didn’t work out so well. But we said yes. We agreed because saying “No” didn’t feel right. If you talk to Lee and I individually about our motives to adopt, you’ll hear two different stories. Mine is the longer one.

Naturally.

Lee’s story is quite simple and I love the purity of his answer. When he was asked last summer why he decided to step forward with the adoption he said, “Because God didn’t give me the freedom to say no.”

 

That was it.

 

He couldn’t say no because he didn’t feel like GOD (not me – I had given him full permission to say no) had given him the freedom to say no. So he said yes.

I will confess that I still struggle with some bitterness and disappointment that God didn’t lay “No” on Lee’s heart. I still don’t understand why He brought us to this point in the adoption process. But obviously there were lessons of faith and trust and dependence that I needed to learn and so even though I’m disappointed in the circumstance and sometimes even in God Himself, I can still say He is good.

I still have faith, even though my faith feels much shakier than it did before. It’s being tested and burned and molded – it will come out stronger, but I have to wrestle through this.

As we prayed and sought and searched and looked at what our next step should be after the adoption was terminated, Lee felt a deep desire to go as a family on a mission trip this summer, and this time it was my turn to be reluctant. I didn’t want to go because I didn’t want to spend the money. I knew that money could be spent on transferring our adoption to a different country. But Lee felt really strongly that we should take the kids on a mission trip.

And I didn’t have the freedom to say no, so yes was the only other option.

We began to search different missions opportunities that we could take with the kids. We needed to find something that fit into Lee’s hectic work schedule and after a lot of thought, we decided to join forces with Servant’s Heart Ministry on a mission trip to the Dominican Republic.

One month from today we will board a plane with our children to meet and serve the children of the Dominican Republic. I will confess that my heart is still unsure, not of the trip – I have no doubt the trip will be amazing. But I am still unsure about where we stand with the adoption and I still struggle daily with this idea of saying yes to God.

But what is faith if we don’t say yes to the things that don’t make sense – even those things that may not go as planned?  And how will we ever teach our children how to serve those in desperate need if we don’t go and do? Even if it costs money? Even if it sets us back in the adoption?

Or maybe it’s a step forward…

 

God has been terribly silent through all this adoption stuff, but I have this sense of peace that as we continue to say yes to the things in front of us, He will slowly reveal His plan for our family. As I said earlier, saying yes is scary because the outcome is not always certain, but if there is one thing I have been able to cling to in these months of questioning and doubt it’s that God is good and His plan is perfect, even when I don’t understand it. 

So we are saying yes to the things that are scary, the things that are good, the things that could go wrong or right. We’re saying yes because when presented with an opportunity to bless another person, is saying “No” really an option at all?

 

What about you? What have you said yes to lately?

 

(And as a PS to those who gave money toward our adoption – please know that we have those donations set aside and we will not touch them until we decide what we are going to do. Should we ultimately decide not to proceed with another adoption, those funds will be returned. I just wanted to offer that explanation in an effort to be fully transparent. We don’t yet feel that God has shut the door on adoption so we continue to save in anticipation of adopting. We are walking in faith making each decision with an enormous sense of trust.)

No More Pencils, No More Books

Books

We had a family movie night last night. When I announced it, the kids were all, “Really?! But it’s a school night!” I know, kids. I know. Why don’t we just play hooky? Let’s just call it a day and finish school now, whatcha think?

I didn’t say that, but I cannot deny thinking it.

My children don’t get out of school until June 7th, which seems like a conspiracy of torture to me. I’m over everything about school and it shows. When the kids get home in the afternoon, our normal routine is a quick snack, then dive straight into homework before any playing.

Our current routine is come home, jump in the pool, play all afternoon and if you get to your homework and reading, yay! Bonus.

We are crawling to the finish line over here.

Every single morning, as I wake Tia up, she rolls over and blinks hard through sleepy, crusty eyes. “Mommy, can’t I skip school just this once?” she cries (sometimes sobs). Friends, I feel like I deserve a medal for not saying YES! Skip it. Let’s stay in bed in our jammies and watch movies all day. Screw school! POWER TO THE PEOPLE!!!

I don’t say any of those things. I put on my Motivating Mom Hat and say super inspiring things like, “Finish strong, honey!” And “Can you taste the victory of your accomplishment?” And “12 More Days – Isn’t It EXCITING?!”

Then I drag her out of bed and force her into clothing. There is some hand clapping involved most mornings. Nature of the beast and all.

This morning the power tripped at 5:00 am, which means our alarm went off, which is honestly the rudest way one could possible be woken up.

(Actually, if you were to talk with my brother, you’d probably find that he has a story of an even ruder awakening. I may, or may not, have woken him up several times as a teenager by standing over his bed and letting loose a blood curdling scream. The memory of the look on his face as he thrashed around on his bed in utter terror gives me unending and eternal glee.)

Anyway, the alarm went off this morning at 5. Mercifully it did not wake up the kids and I was able to doze in and out of sleep. But when 6:30 rolled around, I could not get my brain to communicate to my extremities that it was time to get up. My brain kept sending them messages and my body was like, “Can’t we skip school just this once?”

 

12 More days until we’re done with all this – isn’t it exciting?! Finish strong! Can you taste the victory of your accomplishment?

 

Then I told myself to shut up…

12 more days until I can burn the agendas and the reading logs and…well, I probably shouldn’t burn the uniforms since we’ll need them again, but everything else is fair game! I have plans for the summer to keep the kids reading (plans that include paying them – incentive? bribery? Either way, I’m hoping it will motivate) and I have workbooks lined up for math and writing and Russian. But there will be no set agenda.

And there will be strictly enforced rules not to wake me up before 7:00 on any given morning lest they should face the wrath of schedule-free, summertime Mommy. Amen?

 

And we all said amen.

 

So show of hands – how many of you are already finished with school? 

Dreamy Little Worker

flowers

I’m busy working toward my dream of seeing my book published.

I am writing and editing and pitching and querying and editing and writing and reading and pitching.

I believe in this book.

I believe it has great potential.

I believe it needs work.

I believe it’s pretty dang good.

I believe it will be published.

It’s overwhelming, all the work that goes into making a dream come true.

But in the end….

While I keep working, please, please, please visit my friend Jenni’s website. She’s the one who took that spectacular photo of the yellow flowers.

Don’t you just want to reach right into the screen and pluck that gorgeous flower?

Jenni and her family are continuing on their year long journey around the United States.

Her pictures are inspired, but even more inspiring?

They are chasing their dream.

Do you have a dream you’re chasing? 

Cinco de I’m Tired…

I distinctly remember leaving the hospital with Sloan and as the nurse wheeled me out, she patted me gently on the shoulder and said, “Good luck, honey and enjoy it. Motherhood is a thrill, but exhausting. You won’t sleep well again for the next 20 years.”

She then packed me into the car and waved with a bright smile as Lee and I pulled out of the parking lot, our eyes saucer-wide. I looked back at the sleeping baby in the back seat and thought, “Whatever. All those books I read said he should be on a sleep schedule within 8 weeks. Two months and we’ll be sleeping all night again.”

No, it’s fine. You can laugh. Go ahead, I’ll wait…

I have been at this motherhood thing for almost a decade now and I can say with certainty I haven’t gone a single month in the last 118 months where I have been permitted to sleep well every night. People…I am exhausted. E-X-HAUSTED!

I mean, it’s awesome. Don’t get me wrong. If we’re being honest, you should know that I was never a great sleeper to begin with. There are stories that my parents like to tell of me not sleeping at all when I was a baby. Oddly enough, they tell these stories with a tiny bit of glee whenever I mention the kids keeping me up all night….

Between bed wetting, nightmares, random fevers, falling out of bed, the dog barking at phantom shadows, the power tripping which sets off the alarm (C’MON!!!!) and down the list it goes, I am exhausted. Right now, I don’t want a month of uninterrupted sleep – I just want one week. Just a week!

Heck – I’d settle for a Saturday morning where I got to sleep until 8:00.

Or…you know what? I’ll just take another cup of coffee. It’s the best I can do for, well at least for the next 15 years, right?

While I sip my Cup ‘O Joe, you can enjoy these pictures. They make the sleepless nights totally mostly worth it. (You’ll notice Landon is missing from all these shots. He is the one with the fever who woke me up at 4:30. Tia is the one who fell out of bed. I’m going to need two more cups of coffee.)

*wink*


Playing Hooky

Image taken by Avodah Images.com

Today, this girl and I are blowing off school and heading to Busch Gardens. We could have done this after school, or on Saturday, but there’s something about skipping school to have a fun day with Mom that’s extra special.

Sometimes playing hooky is the right thing to do.

Sometimes they need you all to themselves.

Sometimes they need to know that time spent alone with Mom is fleeting and special and a little bit exciting.

Sometimes they just need to see that building a memory is more important than reviewing spelling words.

Sometimes playing hooky is right because I want them all to know that family is fun and life is an adventure and it’s okay to get away now and again for no other reason than just to have a good laugh. I also want them to know that this is not something that we do all the time and it’s only to be done with Mom and Dad’s blessing and involvement.

Sometimes you just need a break. Today I get my break with her and her alone and we are both giddy with excitement.

What are you up to today?

IT’S A BALL! A GAME WITH A BALL!!!

He wakes up every morning with one thing on his mind: When can I play/watch/talk about baseball? It is his life passion and I know without a shadow of a doubt that this kid was created to play sports.

As a sidenote, I also think he was created to be a Florida boy because he finds pants, shoes and shirts to be terribly cumbersome and restrictive.

Most mornings, this freckle-faced child of mine stumbles from his bed to the couch where he lays half awake, unable to function or move unless someone pulls out a ball and starts bouncing it. Then he goes from barely functional to crazy person in less than a second. In fact, when someone pulls out a ball, Landon usually reacts a bit like Buddy the Elf upon seeing Santa Clause:

Seriously. When someone pulls out a ball you can see his pulse quicken. It’s a game with a a ball?! A GAME WITH A BALL!!!!!!!

The sight of a baseball, or football, or basketball or anything round that can be tossed or caught sends him into such a frenzy of excitement it’s hard not to laugh out loud. When he plays ball, if the people he’s playing with lose interest in the game or begin messing around, he grows agitated and annoyed.

“Just play the game!” he can be heard yelling over and over. He has no patience for shenanigans when it comes to playing ball. This boy was created to play ball. How do I know this?

Because he has been enamored with balls since before he could walk. In fact, he was barely sitting independently the first time I set a ball in front of him and his face lit up as he rolled it from hand to hand. When he was 8 months old, we sat on the sidelines of Sloan’s soccer game and Landon crawled after a soccer ball for an hour, giggling and laughing as though he were frolicking with a long lost friend.

He’s been able to hit a baseball thrown to him since before he turned 2 and he was dribbling a basketball with near perfection by 2.5. Remember this video?

But by far, right now, his greatest affection lies with the game of baseball. He spends hours a day throwing the ball against the house outside. He practices catching it with his left hand, and then with his right hand. He narrates his own imaginary game and he is, of course, always the winner.

Perhaps one of the things I love most about this kid is his unabashed enjoyment of life. Every moment is a gift and he is fully engaged in the enjoyment of those moments – even the few moments that don’t include baseball. Yesterday I walked the dog around the block and he rode his bike alongside. As he pedaled hard, his training wheels keeping him firmly upright, he flew passed me, the wind pushing his white hair back off his forehead.

“WOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” he screamed, lifting his legs off the pedals and grinning wide. “This. Is. AAAWWWWEEESSSSOOOOMMMEEE!”

Life is such a gift, isn’t it? I pray we all embrace the zeal of a five year old today and soak it in. Roll the windows down, let the wind whip through your hair and grin wide. And if you’re feeling brave, give a shout of joy. I think we could all use a little zeal, yes? In light of recent events, it’s refreshing to remember that life is an awesome gift and joy comes in the enjoyment of the present moment.

 

Happy Friday and happy weekend!

Where the Present Touches Eternity

 

Image by AvodahImages.com

 

“We (the demons) want [man] to be in the maximum uncertainty, so that his mind will be filled with contradictory pictures of the future, every one of which arouses hope or fear. There is nothing like suspense and anxiety for barricading a himan’s mind against [God]. He want men to ce concentrated with what they do; our business is to keep them thinking about what will happen to them.” C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters

This present time and age rocks and churns with uncertainty. With each bomb exploded, each innocent child killed senselessly, each cry of anguish and pain that gathers like a cloud over and around us, it’s easy to feel lost. Beauty is marred and history now tainted.

How many more cities must erect a memorial in honor of the victims?

In times like this, we have to be careful not to wallow in the uncertainty of this present age. As Americans, we are a toddler nation still youthful in our page of history. The rest of the world is pitted and scarred with the darkness of evil, but beauty and goodness shine bright. Just visit the cathedrals that still stand in the Italian countryside, their centuries old paintings revealing beauty in ashes.

Look at the statues carved from stone and close your eyes and take in the brilliant, soul stirring symphonies of Mozart and Beethoven, Gershwin and Chopin. Read Pushkin and Akhmatova and get lost in the words of those brilliant poets who weave pictures with pen and paper that send color into the dark world.

Most of the great beauty in this world has risen from the heat of evil.

When the world gets dark and smoky, it’s easy to fall into cynicism. We wonder what kind of world we’re living, what kind of darkness our children will have to endure as they grow.

But we can also remember that these things, though shocking and revolting and vile and senseless, are not new and they are not the end of beauty or hope or joy or goodness. All you had to do was watch footage of the first responders to know that goodness wins. And really, without the ugly how would we ever know what beauty truly looked like?

 

Without evil, how could there possibly be good?

 

These last few months have rocked me to my core. They’ve tested my faith and pushed me down into the heap of ashes. I’ve lamented and cried over the child in the orphanage who may never know how much she was already loved – a child who could have had a home but now may never know the comfort and security of a family. I’ve wept bitterly over the children who could have known love.

I’ve looked hard at the darkness, the ability for man to make all of life into a giant mess, and I’ve wondered where the beauty lies in all of it. I’ve looked around and seen the world with new eyes and realized…we are all covered in ashes. And what are we to do with that?

We keep loving. We keep rushing forward into the dark and we be the light. We teach our children what it means to be the light. As for me, I am working on finding the beauty. I can’t focus on the darkness because there is no hope there and life without hope is life without beauty. I cannot  dwell on the fear of the future, the unknown and unfulfilled desires of the heart – instead I must trust that the only true impact I can have on this world is living fully right now, in this present moment.

“The humans live in time but our Enemy (God) destines them to eternity. He therefore, I believe, wants them to attend chiefly to two things, to eternity itself, and to that point of time which they call the Present. For the Present is the point at which time touches eternity.” C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters

It sounds cliche and almost trite to say I’m praying for Boston today, but I am. I am praying for all the hurting hearts and the darkened souls. And I’m praying that today I will be ready to act – ready to be light, to show love, to speak well and bring out the beauty.

 Live for the Present friends. Let’s touch eternity together.

Easter Present and Past

Because you can always use one more dose of cute. And because it’s my blog and I’m feeling sentimental and my babies are growing up and oh dear…

I’m crying again.

I do that a lot these days. It’s like my life has turned into one giant Hallmark commercial. You died those Easter eggs on your own? sob! You can read this whole book by yourself? sob! You want a little sister? sob! You don’t need my help getting dressed?

Well…that’s kind of nice, I have to admit.

Oy vey. I’m a wreck. Ignore me while you look at these photos.

Easter 2009

Easter 2010 - Landon...I just can't stand it.

Easter 2011 - Again with all the Landon....

 

Easter 2012

Easter 2013

I'm sorry, but when did this kid grow up?!?!

And then there's this one. Handsome little devil...

 

How was your Easter, friends? Do you have the same problem I do – the problem of children who seem to be growing way too fast?

It’s a problem without a solution, unfortunately.

*sigh*

Love Wins

In light of the Supreme Court’s upcoming decision on marriage equality, I’ve wondered if I should/would address the issue at all on my blog. There are enough voices clanging through the interwebs and I’m not a fan of noisy blogging.

That said, I read an article today that really speaks to how I feel about the issue at hand and I thought I’d share it here. I hope we can have respectful dialogue…if you want to have dialogue at all about the issue. Maybe you’re done dialoging. In that case, just leave a comment and tell me your favorite Easter candy.

Either way, let’s remember that above all else, love wins. Love is the thing that always, always wins. It’s also important to remember that disagreement does not indicate a lack of love. 

There is no law that says we must all agree with one another in order to love one another well.

 

This is an issue without an easy answer, as much as many people want it to seem easy. But healthy, open dialogue is always a step in the right direction. No matter what the Supreme Court decides, I pray we can all remember that love wins.

And my favorite Easter Candies are those Reece’s Peanut Butter Cups shaped like Easter Eggs.

*wink*

The Article: How Might Christians Respond To The Question of Homosexual Marriage?