This year has been one crazy ride. It started out with the celebration of our third "gotcha" day and Cheyenne's sixth birthday, her fourth in foster care. It was on her actual birthday that the judge made the decision to teminate her parent's rights to her (and all the others). I'm sure this was terribly painful to her mother. I feel her pain but it was not a surprise to any of us. We celebrated and grieved the loss at the same time. Of course this wouldn't be the end...there were two appeals. At about the same time we realized her brother would have to be placed where he could get constant attention. He never slept and was growing more and more threatening to all the girls. This process took several months. It was a loss for us all. The positive was this house calmed down so much I can't even describe it and the girls just opened up like flowers. We got busy making their room a fun place to live and pressed on toward adoption.
In July, Micah and Blake moved home, into my mother's house right next door. This was a wonderful event but our dear friends Jason and Lisa (who had lived in Mama's house) moved into their new home and we missed them. M and B literally dropped their things and we all headed to the beach for a nine day vacation at my cousin's condo. I loved being with all my family but a nagging pain in my right hip made me alot slower than I like. When we got home Micah and Blake told us they were expecting a baby in March!! We were thrilled!
Michael got a job with the Opelika school system and we were so thankful. He still owns his business but the cost of insurance was killing us...he was born to teach anyway so we just felt like this was more of God's call on his life. School started and he discovered what he was truly made of. I don't think he's ever been so tired in his life but I appreciate what he does more than he knows.
I realized my hip pain was really a disc or "something" and no amount of prescription pain meds touched it...I was scheduled for surgery. My kids planned a wonderful birthday party for me with my friend Kelly and I turned 50 just the way I wanted to, with friends and family laughing and eating.
Hannah and her family came home for Thanksgiving and announced they were expecting their second child, another time of rejoicing.
We were told all the appeals were over and the girls were ours to adopt. Halleluyah.
My surgery went fine and in a few days...okay a few weeks I was back to almost normal. We waited for an adoption date but the wheels were moving slowly...finally our friend Margaret Mayfield lit a fire under someone at DHR and we got the consent to adopt. On Dec 21, 2009 Ariel, Cheyenne and Felicity became Browns. We had a big party! So many people came we couldn't talk to everybody...the girls loved it! They felt like rock stars.
Last Wednesday the whole circus was together again. We celebrated Christmas and had a blast! One of the major gifts to the kids was a trip to Chattanooga, we left the day after the day after Christmas.It was a wonderful time, our first trip as a "real" family.
So here we are at the end of 2009. We have so much to be thankful for! We also have so much to look forward to. God is good.

I Heard the Bells

Sometimes I amuse myself with the things I'm learning at fifty. Maybe I've learned it all before and have forgotten but it's really fun discovering "new" concepts at such a ripe old age.
One of the perks of getting older is apparently the decreased need for sleep. I feel like I need just as much but something in my brain says "nope, you need to stay awake half the night just for fun". Usually it's late at night that I can't shut my eyes and be still...today it was morning, pre-dawn mind you but morning nonetheless. I awoke to a paw on my face so technically I probably would have slept eight hours if left alone but this particular paw was attached to a sweet little kitty who was telling me she needed to go outside immediately! I much prefer opening the door to cleaning up accidents so I happily abliged her. When I realized it was 5:30 I decided not to go back to bed. I clicked on the TV hoping to catch Beth Moore or Joyce Meyer instead I found Casting Crowns (a Christian band for those who may not know). The lead singer was just about to sing one of my favorite "new" Christmas songs. He was introducing the old favorite "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day", he explained that with all the turmoil in the world it's sometimes difficult to see the truth in the song. Then he made a statement that hit the bullseye with me. He said that WE ARE THE PEACE ON EARTH! Have you ever thought about that? The Bible says that God will give us peace that passes understanding....not as the world gives but something only the Spirit of God can give. The world does not understand when we have "a peace" about critical situations. I have experienced this peace firsthand and in a big way this year. He's given me peace in the struggles with the foster care system, with money woes, and then my back issues...when the doctor told me it might be something he'd have to biopsy. He has used his people to talk me off the ledges in life, and he has certainly given me a spirit of peace. There is no need to worry when the creator of the universe "has your back".
So, whatever you are facing this season take comfort in the knowledge Jesus was born to bring Peace on Earth, not necessarily to the nations but to one soul at a time. May his peace wrap you up this season like a warm quilt, and if you haven't felt it yet look up the Casting Crowns version of "I Heard the Bells" and see what it does for you. Merry Christmas!

Three Dolls

When I was a little girl I always got too much for Christmas. I am truly grateful for the time and attention my mother put into my gifts but Santa always seemed to overdo it just a little. It's funny to think I realized this even when I was a child. My cousins next door would get about the same amount of toys and clothes as I did and there were three of them! My parents were not wealthy, they just felt the way to show love was to give gifts. I respect this as a legitimate "love language", the "giving of gifts" but it wasn't mine and I felt guilty sometimes about all the loot under the tree for just me. I would have traded it all for a little brother. That was not possible. I grew up a single, an only, number one, center of attention, over indulged? maybe, but not spoiled...I never expected my parents to do more or asked for much of anything. I never had to! Santa knew what I liked and he delivered! I think I was a grateful child. (My mother may remember it differently but then she remembers everything differently so I don't rely on her memory at all.)
One particular Christmas when I was about five I got three dolls. I remember the overwhelming fear of not being able to take care of three babies at one time...I obviously had a maternal instinct early on. Dolls were not listed in the same category as other toys, they were not toys at all to me! They required attention and care. I left Woolworth's crying because I had to pick one Santa Mouse and all the other Santa Mice were calling to me to choose them. Okay, I know that sounds like my mental illness was kicking in at an early age but I like to think it was just my tender heart toward dolls of any kind. I also remember vividly the knot in my throat when I walked down the aisle in Roses, at Midway Plaza and discovered a pitiful doll on the shelf called "Little Miss Nobody". Does anyone else remember her? That had to be the dumbest idea anyone in the toy business EVER had. She was dressed in rags, was dirty and had a tear in her eye! I was mortified! My mother was too. I wanted all of those dolls! They obviously needed a mommy! Santa hoped I'd just forget about it...well, I'm still thinking about it and it's been forty-plus years!
I still have a tender heart for dolls. I never let my boys treat their big sisters' dolls in any way but kind, I reminded them on occasion that they would be daddies some day and they needed to practice being loving to dolls. I'm sure there was some eye rolling from time to time and maybe even comments like "Mommy is crazy, she talks to dolls", "Yeah, she thinks they are real". But, you should see those same boys with our little girls and our grandbaby, so sweet! Seth was carrying Lissy around the other day, she was patting his face and saying "I love you lil brother". It's amusing that she calls HIM "little brother" considering he's a giant next to her. CJ calls him "Best Buddy", all three of the girls love their big brothers and the feeling is mutual.
So here we are at Christmas again. I "received" the gift I'm finally getting this year three years ago...I've wondered many times if I could take care of three little girls at one time but the Lord has paved the way and lit the path every step. Our adoption date is Dec 21. My dolls will finally be my daughters.
I'm still getting wonderful gifts that I don't deserve.

Thankful

I can't believe it's the week of Thanksgiving already. I feel like I have slept the Fall away. Truth is I have slept more than usual due to being in pain for several months then having surgery and the sleep that seems to accompany that. I think I'm good and awake now.
The other day, about a week and a half after my back surgery I was with Micah in Hobby Lobby. I got a call from LeAnn. When I told her where I was she said "That is so great." I knew what she meant but she went on to explain anyway. LeAnn is a serious prayer warrior, I call on her many times when I'm just not "feelin' it" to point me in the right direction. She has been with me in this valley of pain (as have so many other cherished friends) and has kept close tabs on the situation. When she said it was great that I was in Hobby Lobby she wasn't talking about me wanting to get some crafting done....she meant it was great because I'm gonna LIVE! Not that there was any doubt..I will live forever in Heaven but we were both a bit afraid to voice it but we both thought it..my back pain could have been something much worse! My doctor had given me three possibilities that he knew of, disc, a cyst or as he put it "something we'd have to biopsy". That last one made me go paler than I usually am. He followed it with a quick "I really don't think it's that" but he had to say it and that was enough. LeAnn went on to say she was just a little bit afraid we were going to be spending time, not cruising a craft store but talking about chemo options. It could have been so much worse. I mentioned my fear to an old friend on facebook chat. I asked was it wrong to not want to die if God was ready for me to...he said there was nothing at all wrong with asking God for more time. That was a comfort and that's what I did.
I want to live and do all I'm suppose to do. I want to live a full life free from pain and sickness (don't we all?) but sometimes we have to walk through that valley of the "shadow" of death. I think I tasted just a bit of the air from that valley in the last few weeks. I am grateful for it because I felt the presence of my shepherd the whole time. I got to talk to friends I haven't talked to face to face in years. I felt so loved by my family and friends and completely lifted up by the prayers of so many.
As Thanksgiving comes this week I am almost giddy. The thought of my house bursting at the seams with loving people that I so enjoy, the food, the cooking, the cleaning, every aspect of what goes into the holiday I welcome! God is so good!
I am so thankful.

Snapshots

I have this box of pictures. They are all from my childhood, some are things I actually seem to remember but many are just posed shots of me with the Christmas tree or a cat or my birthday cake. Being an only child was not all bad. I guess we are never totally happy with our station in life. But, I do at least have pictures. My precious additions don't have the luxury of looking at themselves in stages. Sweet little CJ asked me this morning "Mommy, what did I look like when I was a baby?". I told her she was beautiful just like she is now. I have never seen a picture of her any younger than three. I met her for the first time then. She was chubby and rosy cheeked with pitifully short bangs but she was beautiful. It pains me to tell her I don't know what she looked like. There are lots of pictures now! Starting just after Christmas in 2006 before her January birthday, and several pictures of her at her "Strawberry Shortcake" birthday party we threw when she was four days ours.
I found a picture of myself when I was about eight. Something about it was so familiar besides the fact that I've been staring at that face for fifty years. It was something about the eyes. I took other pictures turned over and framed the eyes by themselves...it looked exactly like Elle(Ariel). I took the picture still covered except the eyes and showed it to everyone in the house...told them to see if they could guess who it was...everyone guessed Elle. Could it be that my adopted daughter has my eyes? Who but God could do that. She honestly looks like her birth mother with the exception of her coloring. Otherwise she looks a lot like me. I have been challenged several times on that one by people thinking she was my biological child. We have had no pictures of her prior to age five. I received a call from my dear friend Leann tonight to tell me she had gotten her hands on some pictures of Elle as a toddler. (Leann is the adoptive mother of my girls' sister. She got a chance to visit their dying grandmother this week, talk about a committment to that child's happiness...I nominate Les and Leann parents of the year! They flew with her to Nevada to visit with this lady for a few hours.) I can't wait to see my little blonde as a mischievious baby. I know she will cherish the pictures too.
I have hanging in my dining room some beautiful pictures of the three girls I took at the beach this past summer. I am committed to them having pictures of themselves as children, happy, loved, dressed up and playing. They deserve that. Micah read a story about a young woman who carried a picture of a red haired child in her purse. She grew up in the foster system and had nothing of her childhood. She made the statement if anyone had cared to take her picture this was what she thought she looked like. My heart broke when I thought of all the silly pictures I have of my original four babies and how I would be devastated to lose them. They are the story of each one's childhood, and the fun they shared.
I haven't had my camera out often enough lately. I've blamed the dead battery. I have to do better as the Christmas season rolls in. I want my little girls to know they were cherished and loved as children and someday have a box of pictures they can pull out. I hope they laugh together about how Mom was the paparazzi at all their events and holidays, preformances and parties. I hope they know they were beautiful.

So, He Snores

This is for all the married women in my life who truly bless me everyday with their warmth and wisdom, for those of you who perhaps married really young and have stuck out some lean years (or started thinking soon after what in the world was I thinking) and of course to my beloved for all the good he brings to my life.

I was talking to a dear friend yesterday who was telling me about a woman she knows who made a snide remark about my friend's husband....I loved the way she was shocked at the woman's words and quite frankly wanted to go for her throat. Being the dignified Christian that my friend is she "just let it go" and vented to me...which I believe shows immense wisdom with the exception of me writing about it (of course I would never divulge sources). The woman wanted to get my friend into a conversation bashing her husband! My friend was having none of that. Good for her! and him!
Who of us is perfect? Why should we hold our husbands to a higher standard than we want to be judged ourselves?
I was twenty-two when MB and I tied the knot. I love to tell people I married a younger man...he had been twenty-one ten days. Yes, we were in the world's eyes too young. We had nothing...when we left for our honeymoon his brother stuck a wad of bills in his pocket, we used it for a run down hotel at the beach after we discovered the cottage we had borrowed had no water hooked up. We started our married life as college students with $3 between us. We were wealthy beyond imagination.If I had started compiling a list of things that "bugged" me about him then we wouldn't have lasted a year. To be fair, if he had done the same it would have lasted only a few months. I didn't see his flaws, or maybe I did, either way I was so in love with being in love it didn't matter.I had every reason to believe he was my Prince Charming and that is exactly how he's turned out.
I taught my girls to believe in their husbands...that is our highest calling, second only to God. I prayed for my beloved from the time I was about fifteen on, I have never had any reason to ask God if he was sure this guy was the one he had picked out for me. I can't say that he had a sign over his head that said "The One" but after a while I knew.
So, here's what I want to say...He snores. That's right, every night I listen to it for a few minutes thinking I can block it out then I can't. I shake him and ask him to turn over...he does and I can usually get to sleep because it's no longer in my ear. I started thinking about the fact that he snores and you know if I wanted to start my list now I could...he leaves his underwear in the bathroom floor every morning! just think!! The nerve of this guy leaving dirty underwear on the floor! I guess he means for me to pick it up! He also leaves his racquetball bag at the foot of the bed, sometimes in my middle of the night ventures to the bathroom I trip over it...I've considered waking him up and telling him HE nearly broke my neck. Let's face it, he can be a real pain! He slurps his coffee, watches football all day long on Saturday, ignores the kids fighting, etc...but,
what would I be without him?
I would not for one instant want to know. Because in spite of any little inconvenience or frustration he ever causes I love him.
He is so good.
I am thankful that he works so hard for our family. He teaches and owns a business and works at home to prepare for his classes and struggles with the money but does it all for his family. He doesn't even own his own vehicle. He drives my daddy's old Ford truck but never complains.
He listens to God.
He laughs at me.
He makes me laugh.
He is always the first to say he's sorry when we have a disagreement.
He prays with the girls at night.
He picks me daffodils every Valentines Day.
He brings me Snickers when he stops for gas, he loves them too but chocolate gives him headaches so this is a double sacrifice.
He hangs up his towel.
He doesn't mind doing the grocery shopping.
He will watch a good chick flick occasionally.
He tells me I'm beautiful.
He makes us all pancakes on Saturdays.
He likes to cook and is really good at it!
He appreciates little things I do for him (and lets me know it).
He tries to text even though it frustrates him.
He is an awesome example for our boys.
He helps with homework.
He gives even when he doesn't have anything left.
He doesn't complain about my housework or not having clean socks.
He doesn't complain about anything.
He is still quite the athlete...if you don't believe me play racquetball with him.
He has more patience than ANY man I have ever known...he has lived with four ADD family members without even a threat to harm any of us.
He always puts his change in the vacation jar.
He turns off lights all over the house every night
He reads all my stuff and is usually very complimentary.
He gives good hugs and even better kisses.
He can fix anything.
He can see something and build it.
He steps in and says "I'll get this" when he sees me struggling with something.
He makes us all feel safe.
He is not only my prince but the king at the end of the day and he walks through the door, all the kids, even the big ones are always glad to see him.
He is as solid as an oak, steady as the sun.
He never gets in a hurry about anything.
He is trustworthy, fair, thoughtful and honest.
He is really good at Scrabble.
He is creative and smart.
He never compared any of my cooking to his mothers.
He is the hands down best friend I ever had and I have some pretty good ones.
He has had to be my counselor/therapist countless times, couldn't have afforded him if he hadn't been in the family.
He loves to play.
He never takes credit for all the good he does.
These are not reasons I love him. That's an altogether more complicated matter but I do love these things about him and find much more satisfaction in listing them than coming up with flaws.
So, he snores...
He also has kept me warm at night for twenty-seven winters so I'm thinking I'll buy some earplugs and be happy with the gift that he is.

Living with it

I was sleeping so soundly this morning. I was dreaming about being at a cousin's wedding, eating shrimp and baked potatoes, watching children run around, the bride and her sister challenging everyone else to a game of basketball...crazy I know. Then the alarm went off and reality bit me. That's kind of what it feels like, I'm surprised I wasn't dreaming that a shark had me by the leg. I have never experienced this kind of pain. I don't want to remember it but I do want to feel compassion for others in pain. I feel crazy from the meds and yet the meds don't get rid of it. If I don't take anything I feel like pulling my hair out. I can't function with meds or without. This is truly like walking through the valley of the shadow of death. They still don't know for sure what is causing the pain. There is a spot on the MRI. It could be a disc out of place, a facet cyst or "something to be biopsied". I don't like to even say the last choice out loud. It is a terror I don't want to consider, but it is there in the back of my mind all the time. I'm sure my ememy wants me to give in to dispair and believe I am dying. I really don't believe that. The reality is...I am in intense pain. It has to go away. Maybe tomorrow. There is a surgery scheduled, I am praying for relief.

Cousins Undiscovered

I have written about my beloved's huge family before. We are over one hundred in number now, I've lost count. One time when my older son was a little guy he compared us to Abraham and the family he got from his "only" child. I don't see any sign of the Brown clan slowing down. The fact that Michael came from a big family was a real attraction to me. He had ten siblings, so did my daddy. Unfortunately, my dad's family hasn't done a very good job of staying in touch. My grandmother died twentyfive years ago and some of us have not been in the same room since. In the age of cell phones and email it seems we are more disconnected than ever.
I had a very pleasant surprise today. I "found" a cousin on facebook. To give some background...I met with my friend Dori for coffee this morning. We are good friends who never see each other. She understands me and I think I do her. She reminded me that she was "part raised" by my aunt Mary Mayberry who lived in Demopolis most of her life. Dori moved to Opelika about twenty years ago and I was one of her first friends. When we started talking she told me where she was from and I naturally asked her if she knew Aunt Mary with no idea she not only knew her but was treated like one of her own. I have to admit I was a bit jealous to know Dori had known her so well (she was always one of my favorite relatives) but it's so neat to know they were connected and now we are connected. When I got home I sent a note to Dori on facebook. I noticed that W. Myles Mayberry III was one of her friends...I didn't think to ask her if she kept in touch with any of Aunt Mary's children. I friend requested Myles and he responded in a few minutes. I am so glad to get a chance to get to know one of my first cousins I don't remember every talking to. Isn't that weird. I can't imagine having family so close in blood that I don't know at all. He has a brother and a sister I wouldn't recognize either. Maybe we can meet eventually. It will be strange but nice to see the kids my aunt (and sweet Uncle Myles) produced now that she is gone to Heaven. I know she is smiling about that.

...one quick story about Mary, one of the reasons I loved her so much... She knew it was a sore spot between my mother and me the fact that I had "so many" children. When I just had the girls I took them to see her. She was so loving and sweet with them, they loved her immediately. She looked up at me and asked if I was planning to have more children...I told her I would like to, but my mother gave my *%$# every time I mentioned it (not that it was up to her but you want your mother to approve of your decisions) She looked me in the eye with that precious twinkle and said "Oh Angie, have a house full!" Somehow, having her approval counted alot. She was a jewel. I really regret missing out on more of her wisdom...I did go on to have two more children they all share her wit and love of life and we have the little girls we are adopting, somehow I feel she'd be proud.

Lucy

Our dog is old. She's somewhere around 88 if you're talking about "people years". All of us grown folks have been expecting the day when "something" happens to her. It looked like that day this morning.
We got Lucy when the boys were little. We didn't plan on getting a dog but I was cornered at a Christmas party by a young lady from church. She told me the puppies were going to the pound...tomorrow! She had two left in the litter, she just wanted me to "look" at them. I made it clear we didn't need a dog. I caved. She brought in the absolute cutest puppy I had ever laid eyes on. She was white and tan with the sweetest little face, part Cocker Spaniel, part lab maybe, she was a mutt but she was a beauty. I couldn't resist taking her home. She threw up in our van twice on the ride but we didn't care she was "OUR DOG". We changed her name once. She started out Holly because it was Christmas, but after a few minor calamities, like falling in the pond and getting stuck in a paper bag we changed it to Lucy, that one just fit.
I had justified getting a puppy by thinking she would be a good companion for me while I walked...I did give it a try, each time I would end up carrying her home. I also thought she would be a good watch dog, which to her credit she lived up to. She's always been very protective of "her" kids. She joined the family during the pacifier era. Matthan and Seth both had them, we were trying to get rid of them, somewhere there is a video of Lucy with a "passy" in her mouth, she helped in the destruction of the last few we had around.
She has been with us since Seth was not yet two years old. The boys don't remember life without her. The girls probably really don't remember what life was like without her either. She has been with us through good and bad. She took up with my mother after my dad died, she would go up to Mama's house and sleep on her back porch in a recliner that never made it to the thrift store. I'm sure she brought Mama comfort. One time she went missing. We called and looked for several days. I was distraught thinking she was lost. Then on Sunday as we were leaving church we were handed a message from Mama, "Come home, I have a surprise for you", I figured it was pot roast and potatoes...it was Lucy, sitting on the carport. We had no idea where she had been but she was a happy girl.
This morning Michael called me from the kitchen. Something was wrong with Lucy. When I got in there she was on her stomach with her four legs sprawled in every direction. She couldn't get up. I was afraid she'd had a stroke...I think dogs do that. I've known she was likely to because for years she's refused to eat dog food, for Lucy it's cat food or cornbread...those are her two preferences for any meal. I've been told cat food is higher in fat so it's not good for a dog? She's been eating like this for at least seven or eight years so I suspect her cholesterol is dreadfully high. She actually survived heart worms about ten years ago. Michael and I scooted her back on her bed and moved her to the wall out of the middle of the kitchen floor. She looked pitiful, I dreaded what the remainder of the day would hold. I pictured us calling Jere Colley to come with his truck to take our dead dog away. I dreaded the boys hearing the news. Matthan said he held his breath when he heard us say something was wrong, afraid it was "that day". We told Seth she was sick and he talked lovingly to her for a few minutes then we all went to church...On the way Seth (who had not left the house yet) called and told me that Lucy had just walked up and put her wet nose on him! Well, she was walking again, maybe she just needed some attention. She sure fooled us.
A little while ago I heard happy frantic barking and looked outside. Seth was holding Lissy's hands as she tried to stand up on her new roller blades, Lucy was walking around them barking and wagging her tail. I guess she decided she had some protecting left in her. Who knows she may live to be a hundred.

When We were Lee AND Scott, Class of '78

I've written lately about finding Nancy, my friend from elementary school on Facebook. It's been so great talking to her, we are even in a Bible Study together on Wednesday nights. I just knew she would like the group of ladies that meet together and I'm happy to say I was right. It's funny watching her, this was the second week she was there and she realized she knew three or four of the women from a few years ago. They all laughed and shared where they'd been and how they were connected. She is loved there. It's a God-thing. The other night we went to a new business in Auburn after the study to meet up with some other friends to paint and share some laughs. Our friend Terri was the hostess of a little birthday celebration for me. She had not seen Nancy in a long time, it was good to be together again. We painted "coneflowers" on canvas while we sipped Coke and Mt Dew and talked a little about old times but more about how our leaves looked wrong and our colors were off.
Terri and I have never lost touch. We've been together through thick and thin. It always gives me great joy to tell people who knew Terri's husband "back in the day" that he is not the same guy. Well, he is the same person but he's truly changed from those early years. God made the difference and what a difference! Jack is a great guy, just goes to show that I didn't know what I was talking about when I tried to talk her out of marrying him twenty-eight years ago.
When I was first talking to Nancy a few weeks ago I told her I'd kept up with several of our friends from childhood at Lee Academy. I see Susan Turner (Chalopka) at church, I run into Kathy Barrett (Williams) downtown and am planning on going to lunch with her on Tuesday. I talk to someone in Hunt Crisler's family every now and then and have friended him and his sweet wife Kathy on FB. Philip Stroud is still in town, so is Allen Samford, he and his lady Jan Pugh (Johnson) were at my fiftieth birthday party the other night. He is still the champ at remembering everybody's birthday and anniversary.
I suppose there is something "mother hen-ish" about me but I really want these people to stay together. We came pretty close to starting out together, (most of us were fourth or fifth graders) Philip was second grade when he came to Lee, I was third. Now that we are all about to turn fifty (uh hum, some of us are already there) it's time to at least talk about some sort of reunion. I know the people who are handling the facebook page are working on it. It really shouldn't be too hard for us...the Lee class of '78, there were only 16 of us. In the senior picture, if I remember correctly there were 8 boys and 8 girls.
So, I'll end with a challenge. Let's work on getting everybody on facebook. At least we can talk to each other occasionally. I bet there aren't many people who can say all their graduating class (plus others who were with us for some of the years before) is on facebook.
I'm really looking forward to seeing you all!

Aidie said "I love you" for the first time tonight. She has been so fun to listen to this week. She mimicks the other girls and repeats things we tell her to say but tonight as she was going to bed I hugged her tight and said "I love you" and she responded as clear as a bell "I love you". Hannah heard her and said she hadn't heard her say that before.
This makes me feel special. I have to say I haven't felt very special to her until now. It's hard to get close to a child you only see every few months. She is precious to me but I just haven't felt like a significant figure in her life so far. I mean we don't even have a clear name for me yet....I started out one thing and changed to Grammy then Micah had this bright idea to call us
Poppy and Moppy....

I kinda like that, I feel kinda moppy most of the time, sounds like a good name for a ragamuffin.

I guess it will be the name the grandchild next door calls me so maybe it will catch on. I dream of Aiden being close enough to visit twice a month or so but it doesn't look promising. I am comforted that Thanksgiving and Christmas are just around the corner and she'll be back then! But, in the meantime....I can hold the place of the person who got the first "I love you" out of her. I have to say that made this whole visit even more special.

Oh the tears when they leave this time, it gets worse with every goodbye. I want to run after the car and call them back for one more hug, one more kiss, one more minute. But, they have to go back to their lives and I have to get back to mine. I sure do look forward to the next "I love you" though sweet baby.
Make it soon.

Lissy's "New Attitude"

I have talked about our little four year old and her sassy attitude before. She is really cute and I know I'm gonna kick myself for not having video of her when she is older but some of her behavior particularly at school has been terrible. She told her teacher that she was a loser, to hush, and finally that she was gonna "kick her butt"....I found out later that she heard this on "SpongeBob". We don't watch him anymore. But, lately she's been the model student. Turns out she is getting more attention being a "mentor" to the new kid. Yes, there is a newer kid than Lissy and she is apparently a bigger handful (at least for the moment). When I picked her up on Wednesday her teacher told me that the new girl was acting up at rest time and Lissy told her "I'm gonna need you to get back on your cot". Hilarious! I'll take that any day. She also sang her the school rule song and told her to keep her hands and feet to herself or else!!!! Perhaps she's met her match.
She's been really sweet at home too. As we move toward the finalization of their adoption it's good to see her growing in a good direction.
The six year old is growing up too. She is a very pleasant child most of the time. She is loving and sweet. I have to admit I had my worries about her at first but it seems like years ago that she'd fold her arms and say "No, I don't want to" about just about anything you wanted her to do. She was traumatized of course. She's really relaxes over the past three years....that's a lot of time to get that way. Our caseworker asked her the other day if she was about ready to be adopted and she buried her head in my arm and said "NO!", I realized she thought the worker was talking about her leaving US! We cleared that up really quickly and she was happy again, just precious. She has chosen a new middle name, "JOY" I think that suits her!
The oldest of the three has probably been the most effected by the shift toward adoption. She has been the most vocal about wanting to get there but she's trying us more. She has come to the realization that in order to join our family permanently she has to severe the connection with her birth mom. This was not her choice and it's very hard to think your mother doesn't want to do what it takes to have you. I am thankful that her mother didn't make the choice to abort her. We can always respect that choice and know that she loved them all enough to at least give them life.
We still don't have a date for adoption....we hope it's before Christmas.That will make four years these children were foster kids...way too long if you ask me.

Happy Visit

We have had a great week with Hannah and Aiden. We have all loved having them here. It's been nice outside and we've done lots of playing. We are all amazed at all the words Aidie can say. Ariel is able to get her to say just about anything. One night at the dinner table she asked Aidie to point to each member of the family and she could identify all of us! That is quite an undertaking for a small fry. Her mama has done a good job with the photos!
Today is Friday, they are leaving on Sunday, this is going to be the hardest goodbye yet. We all love Aidie so much and she lights up a room when she enters. One day we went to the OHS to take Poppy lunch, she spotted Seth in the lunchroom surrounded by dozens of really big kids and ran to him. He loved it of course. She is turning out to be a really friendly toddler. She smiles this adorable little smile and everyone she meets melts. Hannah says they will be back for Thanksgiving so that helps my feelings, it's been about three and a half months since we saw them last. That is just too long!

Woman of Influence-The Adulterous woman

If you are in the Airview Women's Bible Study you know your homework for this week was to think of a woman who has influenced you and be prepared to share.
I have no problem thinking of dozens of women who have encouraged me and led me in the right direction all through my life. Teachers, pastor's wives, friends' moms, and lots of girlfriends older and younger have influenced me for the good.
Tonight we will look at someone who would have certainly been a woman our mothers would have warned us about. The Bible says in ICorinthians 15:33 "Bad company corrupts good morals", if you have not made friend choices that would cruise in the "bad company" catagory perhaps your children have. As moms we are up against some tough competition for the hearts and minds of our children. We want them to be salt and light, but we don't want them being drug into the pit by the enemy!
For a moment let's just think of the crowd Jesus ran with. There were stinky fishermen, a tax collector, not much is said about the other's occupations but they were pretty much the plain janes of the day. No great preachers (yet), no prophets or Bible book writers (yet) just guys. They were probably of little if any real reputation. I love the fact that God didn't come down and commission great evangalists to walk with him. He chose flawed people. He loved the dirty hands and faces of the pure in heart.
One day Jesus had an angry bunch of "churchy, uptight, self righteous men" bring him a woman who was "caught in the very act" of adultery. I have often wondered where the man went when this woman was dragged out into the street to be stoned to death. The mob asked Jesus what they should do with her. Read: John 8:1-12. It pretty much gives us the story in living color. Jesus stoops down and starts writing in the sand. I believe this has significance because; 1) He gets down on her level, I bet he looked into her soul with those coffee brown eyes and made her feel loved for maybe the first time in her life. 2) He pretty much was ignoring what the men were saying and doing. I believe his silence spoke volumes. When he did speak he embarassed the men by challenging the "one without sin among you cast the first stone". They knew the law, they knew they were all guilty of some sin. No one dared throw a stone of course! As the crowd dispersed, Jesus stooped down again...I bet this time he smiled at the woman, maybe even winked a "I've got this" smile. Both times it mentioned him writing in the sand....have you ever wondered what he was writing? One pastor friend says perhaps it was the names of men who had been with this woman, or naming sins he knew they were guilty of. Just writing out the ten commandments would have been enough to disperse the crowd.
Now, we get to the woman's influence...when everyone had left Jesus asked the woman "Where are they? Did no one condemn you?" She replied "No one Lord" and Jesus said, "Neither do I condemn you: go your way. From now on sin no more.
The next verse says "I am the light of the world; he who follows Me shall not walk in the darkness, but shall have the light of life." Can you imagine for a minute what it must have felt like to have the living Savior tell you that 1) He didn't condemn you to die, although your behavior warrented it. 2)He had faith that you would follow him and sin no more. and 3) That from then on your influence on others would change dramatically...you would be walking in the living light! Now, that's what I'm talking about. I would love to have followed this girl back home and around town for a few days. I bet she couldn't scrub that smile off her face. Jesus had made the difference in her life and now she would go about her business as an influence for him. I bet she started up a women's support group for retired street walkers, fed the homeless and taught poor children to read. I imagine this woman becoming a joy to be around. Her new life had to be contagious.
Have you had this kind of influence in your life? A woman to whom so much has been given along with forgiveness that she just bubbles over with love and enthusiasm? Sometimes we need people in our lives who "have a past". They have been forgiven much so they understand grace better. Jesus didn't tell her to try to be a nice girl...he told her to go and sin NO MORE. Grace is not to be abused, but God knows our hearts, he knows it's hard for us to come back and say "I've messed up again". He is faithful to forgive us though when we are sincere.
Pray for any of your friends who are living a life of self and sin.
Pray for your influence to be that of a forgiven sinner who loves purely.
Thank God for the women in your life who have come to Jesus as "adulterous women" and left with new life.

Nancy

Somewhere in all the pictures that have come and gone in this house there's one of me and my friend Nancy (and I believe my cousin Gina) at the lake in the winter time. We are sitting around a fire eating saltine crackers and probably those little "sausages" that come in a can. We were really cute, all of us with our almost seventies long hair and bell bottom jeans.
It's hard to remember first getting to know Nancy, fourth grade is long forgotten for the most part. Her mother had just died the May before school started and my mother was having health issues that were more serious than I knew about at the time. Still, mine lived and she was left without hers. Nancy shared with me the other day that she believes the fact that she didn't have her mother there added to a shyness she still has today. I imagine that's true. I remember my mother being so mad at me for saying something SHE DID embarrassed me and then feeling shamed that Nancy's mother was not around to embarrass her at all. I believe the shyness theory is probably true though, Nancy felt different I'm sure, not many of our friends had felt the loss of a parent even through divorce.
I got the chance to sit across the table from my friend today at Chik-fil-a and share a snippet of our lives the past thirty years. We talked about our kids, our husbands (for just a minute, all good) and our aches and pains. Nancy has had some incredibly hard health issues and lives with constant pain. The doctors told her a lot of it was caused by years of smoking. I am so proud of her for stopping that habit five years ago (she's proud too). She looked good, she didn't wear that shroud of pain you sometimes see on people who have suffered. She has a lot of love and positive things in her life. She doesn't socialize much but she's on facebook now and I have a feeling that's going to change to some degree. I felt a tiny bit like I made her nervous for some reason which is something I never want to do to anyone, but she was warm and forthcoming with answers to all my "where've you been?" questions. She never was one to hide the truth about anything. I love that in people.
She said she had read some of my writing and felt connected to me, well I'm glad about that, even if she hasn't been personally involved in my life all these years doesn't negate the fact she one of my life's oldest relationships. I hope we stay in constant contact now. I don't want to lose her again.
I'm gonna find that picture and post it on here as soon as I do about a million other things I have to do first. In the meantime, I'm so glad Nancy is back, I need her.

My personal Hero

I have had a strange series of days. I have been on heavy medication for back pain that for the moment is still unexplained. I don't like taking medicine unless I really need it and lately I have really needed it. I have never experienced such torment in my life....with the exception of giving birth four times which should tell you I really wanted a big family, one bad epidural experience is enough for some women but the prizes I received at the end of the pain were so worth not even asking for the second, and so on.
The end of the week really got so bad I thought I would surely end up dead or in intensive care. Friday morning I woke up, got out of bed and literally had to hold on not to fall in the floor. My right leg just refused to move. To add to the stress of it all I knew I had to finish a wedding. It was thankfully all silk flowers so I had been working on it all week when I felt like it and didn't have much more to do. Micah graciously took Lissy to run some errands and I thought I'd take a pain pill and rest for a little while. I walked into my bedroom and saw something move at the foot of my bed. I was wearing my glasses so I didn't have to get too close to see it was a SNAKE. No, I'm not kidding. I am in the most severe pain of my adult life and now I'm staring down a black snake in the room I sleep in! I started screaming. I'm really glad no one was close enough to hear because I know I sounded like a crazy woman. Then I surprised myself, I stomped the hellish thing to death with my hurting leg, wearing flip-flops. I was screaming the whole time, I mean ugly crying screaming. Then I went and sat on my stairs and held my head in my hands and cried some more. I have not sobbed like that in years. It was like someone had died. I was in physical pain and emotional pain and I guess spiritual too. I cried out to Jesus to help me because I was seriously afraid I was losing my mind once and for all! You want to know what he told me to do? Text Matthan. That's what I did. I told him I needed him, I had killed a snake in my room and I was having a come apart and I needed him. I believe the Lord had me do that because he was exactly what I needed. I knew Michael would have felt terrible but couldn't leave his classes without a sub. I couldn't call any of my girlfriends, they were as afraid of snakes as I am. The Lord said "Call Matthan". I texted him, yes at school! All the more reason kids need their phones at school if you ask me...to rescue their parents from time to time. He texted back that he was on his way. His teacher asked him how he planned on getting the office to let him out without an excuse and he told her he was going to get his daddy to write him one. I'm sure Michael was just as glad to send him as come home to my hysterics himself. In no time that little red car screeched to a halt out front and my own personal Indiana Jones/William Wallace bolted through the door. I just pointed. He got some paper and took it outside and got a good look at it. He came back in and hugged me and told me he would help me pull everything out of my room and go through it to make sure there weren't anymore....it was little, I was afraid his mother was with him! Then he made me laugh when he said "I'll protect you from the lizard" (for that story refer to "Love and Lizards") I needed for my baby who keeps reminding me that in April he'll be eighteen, to just be here. He is really a great young man. He thinks with his brain and heart, he has an anointing on his life like I imagine King David did at seventeen, he's so beautiful and lion hearted, smart and truly loving. I know he thinks we only think about his mess ups but nothing could be further from the truth. I can't wait to see how God uses him. He has been gifted with so many talents, the least of which is comforting his mama.
I told him later that I was so excited that Micah is going to have a boy. I just have a feeling little Anderson is going to be a lot like his uncle Matty, I pray he is.

Rag Dolls

I have been experiencing some pretty bad back pain lately. I'm almost fifty, what should I expect right? It's funny though how this pain in my hips takes me back to my childhood. Anyone who knew me well enough to spend time at my house would know I had an old "Knickerbocker" Raggedy Ann who was my security blanket, my lovey, my dryer of tears....I'd actually take her hand and wipe my face when I cried. I ran home crying once when my cousin told me she was old and ugly because of the condition she was in. She was old and well, rag dolls rarely start out as pretty as Barbies but that was why I loved her so much, she was just plain, she didn't come with extra clothes or doll beds or baby bottles, no frills, no extras. She was real to me, a friend not a toy. She did have problems from time to time. More than once Mama had to preform surgery on her arms or legs when they started to loosen and stray. That was okay though, she was easily fixed. I always loved her even more with a new line of gray or blue stitching across where her limbs and body attached. It didn't matter to Mama or me what color thread was on the machine at the time, she got sewed up and that's all I cared about. I've been feeling a bit like my Raggedy Ann. I'm loosening up in the arm and leg areas, unfortunately for humans, putting us back together is a little more complicated. I wish the doctor could just sew my right leg back on tight but something tells me this won't be a quick fix. But I am trusting in my healer, the one who holds us all together and I will be better.....
I found this song by a couple who call themselves "Watermark", it's called Mended. Download the song if you can it's beautiful.

You repair all that we have torn apart and
You unveil a new beginning in our hearts and
We stand grateful for all that has been left behind and
All that goes before us
You've got all things suspended
All things connected
Nothing was forgotten
'Cause your love is perfect
You are our healer
And you know what's broken
And we're not a mystery to you

We will dance 'cause you restore the wasted years and
You will sing over all our coming fears and
We'll stand grateful for all that has been left behind and all that goes before us

Lord, you mend the breech
And you break every fetter
You give us your best, for what we thought was better
And you are to be praised
You are to be praised.

Poetry and Painkillers :)

I want...
life to be fun again
I want to try
I want...
to soar on a tire swing and touch the sky
and hold out my hand and catch the cotton candy clouds
and play betcha blink first with a spotted toad that I find while
I'm flying by
I want to dress up in my wedding gown dyed purple laces sprawlin'
and wear feathers in my hair and platform shoes by Colin.
I want life to be fun again
I want to play
while a butterfly lights on my finger and smiles and winks as she
flutters away.

I have been suffering with a degenerative disk for about five months now. I kept thinking it was just a flare up and would settle down after a while. I finally went to the Herrings who have kept me going with similar problems in the past. This time was the exception. After a month it was worse, much worse. On Tuesday I went in hoping to talk to the MD but he was booked and I came home crying.He did call me later and faxed in some prescriptions. They helped some but buy the next day it was unbearable again. My friend Lisa Smith told me she was coming over here first thing the next morning to take me the ER. I agreed, I couldn't get any worse and I certainly was not getting better. So we went. I have to say the ER is a much more fun place with someone who is as zany as I am. We talked about out impossible "mommy" schedules and the fact we've been planning on getting together to just go somewhere for coffee for over a year and haven't done anything of the kind...so, instead of coffee we went to Target and she went in and got us popcorn and coke...I loved it. Who needs fancy pastries and $5 coffee?
I love my friends, Lisa isn't an old fri(yet) but she's valued beyond measure and since I'm speaking of friends.

Kelly Cox brought us a wonderful meal last night. I had gotten up stumbling around in the kitchen trying to focus enough to check out the frig. Micah(darling)told me not to worry, Kelly Cox was due any minute with Lasagna, salad and the works, which included one of the best pies ever put on a fork. I haven't checked but I'm sure there's nary a drop of any of it left.
Of course Ellen has been here everyday, bringing food, treats, helping out with the girls. And I don't know what I would have done without Micah. She has just been the little mama. Everything from dressing the girls for school, cooking hamburger meat (which no pregnant woman wants to do), to grocery shopping, tutoring, keeping the house from turning into a real pit She even laid down the Queen's law with the big boys about picking up after themselves and not being noisy in the house, (they just took the electric instruments outside but it was helpful) I am so thankful that she's here.
Then there are the silent warriors,my "dogs of peace" who are out there doing their day to day stuff and see someone rubbing their backs in a grocery line of watches someone struggle to get out of a chair and think of me and say a prayer...I so appreciate each and every one of them more than they can know.
I am blessed with so many friends. I treasure you all.

Legacy-Nichole Nordeman

I have been invited to lead a women's Bible study on Wednesday nights at the church I grew up in. It is very special to get to do this since I've started writing alot and hope to maybe some day soon publish some of my stories in a book. I have been really overwhelmed by the responses by so many women about my little stories. I am such a simple person. My friend LeAnn refers to me a "low maintance". I like that as a description of me and my husband likes that I buy all my clothing either at a thrift store, consignment shop or Walmart. I color my own hair, have been known to take a whack at it with scissors too, I no longer pay for fingernails although if I ever do have a few extra bucks would like to go back to getting that little luxury occasionally. I admit my guilty pleasure is paying a sweet lady one day a week to vacumn my house and do a few loads of laundry....with five kids at home that's just called investing in a little sanity. I am a plain Jane, even like the name Jane, should have been given that one maybe. In saying all this I don't mean to sound like I am lacking in any way. I have been blessed beyond measure. I have every need provided and there is nothing I really want that I don't have. I have a wonderful husband and two teenage boys who teach me that love and prayer are the two main ingredients to parenting and God has to do the "handling of life" no amount of talking to or about them makes change like talking to the Father on their behalf.
God blessed me with two beautiful daughters 25 and 23 years ago and HE turned them out so well that he loaned me three more to love on for a while. I believe He has given me the ability to call out gifts in people...maybe not the kind of gifts you've necessarily heard of before referred to a "spiritual", sometimes they are. What I want to get across to all the women in my life is you are a person who influences others whether you realize it or not. The way you greet people at your job or the words you say as you drop your children off at school, everything you do as a woman influences others.
It's not about what you are capable of really. In the scheme of things we aren't capable of much, but when we get out of God's way and let him BE the influence things happen. I write and talk a lot about my youngest three children. They have taught me more about God's adoptive, accepting love than anything or anyone else ever could have. I share my story of how we got started in foster care. It was a dog. I was crying because she didn't have a home. God asked me why I would cry about a dog when there are 500,000 children in foster care who are considered homeless in our country. I didn't think I could love someone else's children like my own. God said..."No, but I can do anything in you....it says so in my word. Phil 4:13 says it loud and clear, I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me". I have had to believe that over the past three years more than any time in my life. It has taken time but God is good and these girls are blessings to me.
I want to encourage you as women to get in touch with how God the Father sees you. I want you to realize your influence on others. We are not super heros but our Jesus most definitely is. We will trust him to show us how we can influence our families, friends and the world for his good pleasure.

Now, about the "Theme Song" for our study together...I was holding one of my little ones in the kitchen when it came on the radio and I danced her around listening to it...I had heard it many times before but it had never spoken to me the way it did that day. I was holding a Legacy in my arms.....I want to make sure she knows my heart for God and my commitment to her before I leave this world. Tears started pouring down my face....she looked at me as if I had lost it.....maybe in that moment I did, I lost the fear that everything would be alright.
Now, this is a song that comes to mind every time somebody says what a "good thing" we are doing taking in these children...I'm not interested in anyone's opinion of me really, although like the song says "I don't mind if you have something nice to say about me..." I really love the way Nichole put my feelings into words so I'm just going to share hers with you....

Legacy

I don't mind if you've got something nice to say about me
And I enjoy an accolade like the rest
And you can take my picture and hang it in a gallery
Of all the Who's Who's and So-and-So's
That used to be the best at such-and-such
It wouldn't matter much

I won't lie, it feels all right to see your name in lights
We all need an "atta-boy" or "atta-girl"
But in the end I'd like to hang my hat on more besides
The temporary trappings of this world

I want to leave a legacy
How will they remember me?
Did I choose to love?
Did I point to You enough
To make a mark on things
I want to leave an offering
A child of mercy and grace
Who blessed Your name unapologetically
And leave that kind of legacy

I don't have to look too far or too long a while
To make a lengthy list of all that I enjoy
It's an accumulating trinket and a treasure pile
Where moth and rust, thieves and such
Will soon enough destroy

I want to leave a legacy
How will they remember me?
Did I choose to love?
Did I point to You enough
To make a mark on things
I want to leave an offering
A child of mercy and grace
Who blessed Your name unapologetically
And leave that kind of legacy

Not well-traveled, not well-read
Not well-to-do or well-bred
Just want to hear instead
Well done, good and faithful one

I want to leave a legacy
How will they remember me?
Did I choose to love?
Did I point to You enough
To make a mark on things
I want to leave an offering
A child of mercy and grace
Who blessed Your name unapologetically
And leave that kind of legacy

I don't mind if you've got something nice to say about me


(if you've never heard the song Youtube it.)

Observations on Fostering

Questions……so many questions. Like, what makes a person a parent? Is it “being there” at conception? Well, according to the laws of our country today the moment of conception is not considered the beginning of a child’s life, it’s considered cell math or after a little time a fetus but the jury seems to still be out as far as when life occurs (clearly not in my mind but in the mind of some who would dare look at the ultrasounds and still deny humanity). So, say this collision of cells actually makes it to birth, be it a couple of months early due to mama’s alcohol, tobacco, pot or worse consumptions, and it’s a little girl, perfect in every way. Wow, for that to even happen should be considered a miracle. She is tiny, has seizures every now and then and has trouble learning to suck a bottle but she’s alive and the doctors have every confidence she’s going to make it. Mama doesn’t care that the people from DHR are coming to take her, she names her something ridiculous like “Snow White” and laughs, everyone knows why…snow, an old street name for cocaine (she’d name her that but she’s sure it wouldn’t fly with the authorities). The social worker tells her there is a treatment center she can go to free of charge. Mama says she’ll think about it. Right now she’s in pain and just wants someone to bring her some clothes and a joint or a rock and a pipe, any damn thing would be better than this stupid Tylenol they keep trying to shove on her. She’s not thinking of the future, she’s not thinking of her baby, she’s thinking about what she’s been thinking about for the last five years…..getting high, feeling free for a minute, one beautiful minute. She’s not going to get that here so she starts to peel the tape from her IV. She’ll make a run for it as soon as the late shift comes on.
At this very moment there is a woman sitting in her bedroom window praying. She has cried every month since her twenty-eighth birthday from the reminder of her inability to have a child of her own. She’s lost hope but she keeps praying. The phone rings. It startles her out of a fog , the voice on the other end is saying something about an infant that will be released from the neonatal unit in a couple of weeks and a foster home is being sought for her. Everything else becomes static, she just heard baby and foster home, could this be the child she’s prayed for? Of course the caseworker wants to warn that human resources is working with the young mother, it is always the hopes of the agency and court system to help work it out to reunite the children with the birth parents. It is not an adoption agency. The young woman doesn’t care, she’ll take the baby and see what happens….oh foolish woman.
I want to step into this scenario and scream! You will have your heart ripped out of your chest if you aren’t very careful!!!!! Didn’t you hear what the social worker said? They will take this baby away from you! They could give her to a grandparent who out of a sense of duty will take her, or after a couple of years there will be a man show up at the agency and say he wants custody of some kid his ex-girlfriend told him was his, or it may be a distant relative, an aunt or uncle or cousin. Just when you think it’s all over…..it’s never over. You’ll have taken little Snow White home from the hospital, bathed her, fed her, changed her, shown her off at church, spent ten times the money the state provides for her, and fallen deeply in love with her. You couldn’t imagine loving a biological child more than her, she’s the center of the universe as far as you are concerned. BUT, you are simply a surrogate. You have no rights to her at all. You’ll notice your caseworker calls and gives you doctor’s appointment times, signs all legal papers, and requests that you be a good girl and bring the baby to visit her mama, sometimes she can visit…sometimes she can’t because she’s been on a binge and either doesn’t show up or has drugs in her urine. This is the life you will live….indefinitely. You may have been told that this can only go on for twelve months, this is a lie. Birth parents can do one thing right…show up for visits clean twice in a row, or get a trailer, or start working on a GED or keep a job for a month and proceedings will start in their direction….they are making great progress! Then, you’ll notice you don’t hear from them for a while…my hunch is the process has started over, they’ll be given more time to get it together. They learn how to work the system. And then there are always the appeals. What a lovely smack in the face to the judges. Sometimes I’m sure appeals work to return children to the place they belong, but I’d be willing to guess at least 95% of the time they are simply a stall tactic and stall they do. One case I am very familiar with drug out over four years because the mother could (and did) appeal. Each time an appeal is filed there is a two to six month wait. This ties everyone’s hands. The birth parents don’t have to do anything during this time…they can just rest easy, they don’t have to make any attempts to “do better” while waiting on appeals, they know they aren’t getting the decision overturned, they just want to hang up the system and ultimately keep their children living “homeless”. This is especially damaging to the child if they want to be adopted and they are with the family who wants to keep them. You will be tempted to just not talk to your child about it. She knows she belongs to you and that lady down in that little room in the big office building who’s always referring to herself as her mama is not her mama, you are. She doesn’t like to go there, you don’t like to take her but you HAVE to. And you do because foster parents tend to follow the rules, we actually have a lot at stake.
Whether a couple or individual fosters because they want to adopt or not they are looking to protect children from harm, and to teach them how to get along in the world. All children need these things. They have a desperate need to belong, to be somebody’s baby. When a case drags on it damages their ability to trust. How many times can a child ask, “Mom, is this my forever home?’ and have you answer, “Honey, I wish I could tell you yes but I’m not the one who makes that decision .” How do you explain that to a six year old? An eight year old? You are the only trustworthy person in their lives and if you can’t answer the question they have nowhere else to turn.
So back to my original question…What makes a person a parent? Should someone automatically get to take a child home after three or more years just because there is a biological connection? If that is the truth I curse the day we discovered paternity tests! My heart goes out to men who aren’t told they are fathers as soon as the mother knows she’s pregnant but perhaps a dose of fidelity would be good here. And I know some awesome single fathers! But, if a child has been placed in a loving home and has established bonds, have family and friends and parents who adore him why would anyone see DNA as a trump card? We are a country of mixed families, blended families, families by choice. Why can’t we do the best thing for our children and let them live where they are most safe and loved.
If you really have an answer for me, respond….

.I have no intentions of arguing with anyone about rights of fathers. They should have every right mothers have but if you’ve gotten someone pregnant and found out years later the child is yours, make sure he or she is in a good loving home and visit occasionally. Don’t think for a minute they will be better off with you unless you’ve witnessed their current family situation. All children benefit from having extra people to love them…don’t rip them away from the only security they have. Add to it!

Nobody Likes Me When I'm Sad

Let's face it, nobody wants to be around someone who's depressed...unless they are getting paid a chunk of change to listen to the dribble. It's no fun to share silence when it's the product of not being "able" to talk. I'd be the first to admit I don't understand depression. I've sure seen my share of it. I have fought so hard most of my life not to give in to it....but sometimes it's just too hard. I want to go into my closet, close the door and just stay there. I don't want to call on any of my friends, I don't want to pray (which I know is what I should do). I just want to disappear for a little while. Is that so much to ask? Well, in my case I guess it is. Funny, how guilty I'd feel if I shrugged off my responsibilities for a day...or heaven forbid two. It would be most insensitive to my husband who, if truth was told is probably in a deeper hole emotionally than I am right now.We have a lot going on. What else is new? LOL....no not really, I am not laughing at all.
I heard today that some foster parents lost their kids, they'd had them three years. Apparently, the sperm donor showed up and said he'd wondered where they were and "presto" he gets them...that's enough to make you cry right there. I wonder if the powers that be would take our girls if they discovered I suffer from a "mental illness". It would surely be a good enough reason...and never mind that they keep me out of the closet or bathroom when I feel this way. I can't not take care of them...I can understand how they feel when they get in their moods, like tonight when the four year old had a meltdown in the bathtub. She just got mad, no real reason. She said she wanted to wash the kitty cat makeup off her face, when I went to help her she got mad and turned away from me. I didn't get upset with her....I felt the same way. I don't know what I want either. She stayed in the bathtub after I finished bathing her, she wouldn't budge....just sat there crying. She didn't want to talk about it. She just wanted to be left alone, then she didn't, then she did, that's exactly how depression is. You want to be rescued, but you don't want anyone to touch you, or speak a comforting word. You want to be squeezed tight but your skin hurts if someone gets too close so you turn into a human porcupine. It's a paradox, a contradiction of human nature. I feel like a paradox. I love nothing better than to laugh and to be with people but the dark cool quiet calls me and I want to curl up and dissolve into a sad soup. One thing is pretty evident to me by now, I will be back. I'll sleep it off, or someone will throw up during the night and I'll snap back to reality. I'll start over tomorrow like nothing ever bothered me at all. At least that's my plan.

Poem

Ever feel useless?.........
I do…..today.
So many things I can do nothing about…..so many.
Things I can do don’t seem to matter
Things that matter are out of my reach.
Worry doesn’t help
Striving doesn’t change anything.
The lilies of the field don’t have mortgages.
The birds of the air bring home food to their babies without grocery money.
I’m just tired of the struggle….
I give up the worry
…. but I still sleep next to it.
I turn to it in the morning and stroke it’s face
It looks through me
I’m not really there
I’m nothing….no one….useless.

Church Kid

Today I got to attend Homecoming at the church I grew up in. I always love to visit there. I was baptized there, married there in 1982 and then brought all four of my babies almost straight from the hospital to Sunday morning service. It was the family at Airview Baptist that sent Michael and me off to work at the children's home, the same family welcomed us back after a year. Michael was called into the ministry there under the guidance of Gerald Sykes, they ordained him and prayed "us" through seminary. That place holds very special memories for me...they go back far and deep.

I was probably four or five, still a baby really, but once you could sit up without assistance you were booted out of the nursery back then. Church was a part of life, a part most children endured unhappily but tolerated just the same. I really didn't mind. I loved the preacher, he rarely yelled or pounded his fist like some I'd seen on TV, and he was always working in the neighborhood, visiting people, rolling up his sleeves and helping out. Once, my mama backed over one of my kittens. If that wasn't traumatic enough for her she had to bare me screaming at her like she had done it on purpose, our preacher was driving by and undoubtedly heard the commotion , he stopped, carried me into the house (probably praying all the time) then disposed of the dearly departed. I felt comforted later that my kitty had gone to Heaven in the back of my preacher's truck, my dog Trixie (who loved the cat) never forgave him though. From that day on every time he even drove past our house Trixie would chase his truck and if he even attempted to get out at our house she would nip at his cowboy boots...he seemed to understand though, he never held a grudge against her.
Our church was pine paneling on the inside of the sanctuary. There was a river Jordan scene painted in the baptismal "pool" that I thought was really beautiful, I don't remember who painted it but I do remember the fight that broke out when someone paid my aunt to make heavy green velvet drapes to go over it. The drapes were to remain closed behind the choir until the time we needed the river Jordan to appear for a baptism, this made some people in the church upset, I suppose they wanted to always feel as if they were gazing at the river Jordan, I think the thought of it there made other little kids like me remember that they didn't go to the bathroom after Sunday School and to avoid constant disruption somebody decided it would be best to cover up the distraction. Either way, it really didn't matter to me, I was a child and I thought it was really neat when the lights would go down and someone from behind the choir loft would pull the cord that opened the drapes to the beautiful river scene. Then "Billy Bob" or "Betty Lou" would get dunked and we'd all clap....something rarely done in our church back then.
Most Sunday nights I got to stay home with my daddy to watch "The Wonderful World of Disney" and "Bonanza" on TV. He'd always make us some sort of messy snack and we'd wait to see if Mama would care or not. My favorite was "parched" peanuts and Coke. Daddy would cook them on a big cookie sheet and we'd watch whatever they were showing that week, sometimes we watched "Mutual or Omaha's Wild Kingdom" but I could never stand it if a lion or tiger was chasing some poor gazelle or long eared rabbit so we were particular about those. One the occasional Sunday night when I went to church with Mama I remember dozing off on the hard wooden pews, head propped on hymnals. I'd sometimes shed my shoes and socks and stretch out to count the ceiling tiles. The lights in the sanctuary reminded me of pictures I'd seen of our solar system, circles within circles with one big light bulb in the center. In the early summer the doors to the outside would be propped open and you could hear the crickets and frogs and a car passing by now and then, on more than one occasion a neighborhood dog or cat would wonder in to see what was going on...this convinced me that animals did too go to Heaven, some of them even went to church.
Church was a place of comfort for me. As I grew up I found myself going more and more by myself. It really didn't matter though, I had family there, not biological family but related in a more important way than blood, family put together more by God's design than a gene pool. I am grateful for those early years, for the sweet memories of tapping around the folding chairs in my Sunday shoes, of "Sunbeams" on Tuesday afternoons, of sweet little old ladies who taught me stories about Noah and Moses and David and the Giant. I am who I am today because I was a church kid.

Happy Birthday Ellen

I didn't buy you a card. But, since you chastise me for keeping you up at night reading my blog I thought maybe this would be even better.
Tomorrow is the birthday of a very good friend. I have known her for a long time. I first was introduced to her twenty or more years ago because I just had to meet this remarkable woman who had applied to adopt through two different means, actually had two babies placed by those two agencies and discovered she was pregnant all within months of each other...She was the hero of many women in town. She handled it all with grace and gratefulness. A few years after we met, my family built a house in her neighborhood, we now lived two blocks from each other but had no real connection until that day when my Micah came home from a band trip to Myrtle Beach talking non-stop about a boy named "Blake". Somehow I knew that his mom and I would become friends for life.
A few years later that boy and Micah were planning a wedding. Ellen was a joy to work with on this. She was always willing to go the extra mile to help. She welcomed my baby girl into their family and accepted us and our little additions as her own. I can't begin to count the times she's called and asked if I needed a break, or if she could just take the girls somewhere. She's tutored them, fed them, bought them clothes even bought tap shoes for them. We jokingly refer to our little girls as her "practice grandchildren", of course they love her and always consider going anywhere with Miss Ellen a special treat! I could never tell her how much her help has meant to me but I often refer to her as my "right arm". She's always there when we need her. Once, I had one child with strep. I was busy with my mother in the hospital and couldn't take the sick one with me...she called out of the blue, didn't know that the child was sick but asked me if I needed something...I told her I didn't because I didn't want her exposed to strep, she laughed over the phone and told me she had been exposed to everything under the sun as a teacher (just retired) and to bring that baby to her! That's a friend!
So, instead of a birthday card, I wanted to dedicate this entry to Ellen Melnick, a friend in deed. Happy Happy Birthday!!! You are going to be a fabulous grandmother!
I love you!
Angie

Sunday we had the party I've been talking about to celebrate the life of my cousin John Alexander Starlin III. He served in Vietnam and made it back home forty years ago. His sister, Zula hosted the party at her home in Anniston.We all enjoyed ourselves, it was a very low key, laid back event...from the Mexican barbeque to the entertainment, it was all Johnny. He is a very proud grandfather, he lives for his six little legacies. They were all there enjoying the day with Papa and the other family and friends who joined us. It was a very good day.

Summer 09

Firm Foundations

I've mentioned before that my daddy was a builder. He built houses his whole adult life. He was what I would call a master. He was a perfectionist when it came to something he was going to sell to someone else, I always thought it was kind of funny that he never got around to finishing the inside of our bathroom closet. You know how the old saying goes, "the cobblers children have no shoes". He was just too busy or maybe he just left that one element incomplete for some reason I never heard. I saw many of the houses he built because he would build a house a year at Lake Martin on the weekends then sell it once it was finished. He usually had a buyer before it was done but he would make sure we finished out the summer swimming and skiing and riding in the boat. I wish I'd paid more attention to his skill and knowledge when it came to building. Since I was a girl he never thought to pass along the tools of the trade.
One thing I did learn about the building world from my dad was the importance of a good foundation. I watched him many times dig the footing for these homes with a pick ax and a shovel. He would lay out this elaborate string system with two-by-fours at the corners. Then he would start digging. He never needed to go to a gym, he built massive arms doing this kind of work. It seemed like such hard work just to cover it all up with concrete and then wood. I asked him why he did all that and he told me that a house is only as good as it's foundation. His favorite was the "slab". That's when you poured a concrete sub-floor and built right on top of it. His second choice was a crawl space but he only did that if the lot was impossible to get flat. I remember going with him to look at property for possible house sights. If the land was hilly he often kept on going but if it had at least the potential to be flat he walked it off. He would measure the property with is steps a yard at a time. I was usually waiting in the boat or the truck doing what little girls do, day dreaming, playing with dolls, or picking weeds on the edge of the potential house spot, sometimes if it wasn't too thick with briers he'd let me follow along after him. I couldn't rattle on like I was prone to do though because he was measuring, counting steps. He could imagine a house on a lake front lot like it was already there...I have to think I got some of my imagination from him.
When the lot was purchased he'd start his work, clearing, burning then digging. It would take him a while to get all the digging done but he did it all by himself. He'd lay the brick help the men from the concrete company smooth out the slab and he'd really be off and running. It was amazing to me to watch the progress. He'd usually take about a year to complete his projects but that was working only on the weekends. It bothered me that he never went to church, but I'd hear him whistling hymms from time to time and he loved Hank Williams song "I Saw the Light", he'd sing that one out loud. I felt like his work was a kind of praise to God. He would not have fit in at any of the churches I knew of anyway.
I remember the one time he attended our church. It was a Sunday night and my beloved was getting ordained to preach. Daddy actually came and sat right up front with the family. I waited for the roof to fall but it didn't. He wasn't a church goer that but that was between him and the Lord. He built a firm foundation into my life by being committed to something he loved, his work and his family. Although it was sometimes a point of contention between he and my mom it was something he had to do. He drew his identity from it. He never made the living he deserved, he usually sold the houses far under market value but he put me through college without a single student loan, made sure my mama drove a decent car, had a nice home and plenty of anything we needed. There aren't many men like him left, now dads are more involved in sports and other activities their children are interested in...I'm glad about that for the most part. Dads need to be there for their kids, and kids certainly need fathers in today's world even more than when I was a young. Work is a means to an end...at least in my case it was a good example for life. Do something you love, do it well and start with a good foundation.

A Heroes Welcome

I have a cousin who served in Vietnam. He was nineteen when he first went, just a little older than my boys are now. I cannot imagine the nightmare he experience while he was there. I've heard so many horror stories, the heat,the incredibly dark nights, the mosquitoes, the shear terror of it all. I was all of fourteen when the war ended so I didn't really think too much about it back then, they said it was the first war we could watch on the nightly news but after a while I think we all just got used to it and didn't pay attention quite as much. This was the way it was, we had service men and women in probably the scariest place in the world but it just didn't seem real from our recliners and couches. All I knew was I had a cousin over there and I hoped he'd come back walking not in a pine box . All the soldiers wanted to get back too and dreamed of their families and friends at home. While they were doing this a movement was going on that shocked many when they did get their discharges or furlows. There were people, Americans, who threw stuff at them, spit on them and called them all sorts of horrible names. My cousin experienced this himself. It was not bad enough for a bunch of boys right out of high school to be shipped around the world to endure all sorts of things they would never be able to get out of their heads...they had to come home to a group of people who were loud if not large in number who despised them. What a pity. I wish I had been a little older, understood a little better, had planned a party when my cousin came home. I'm sure there was some sort of quiet celebration with the family, I think I remember going to my aunt's house to see him but I'm sure it was not what he deserved.
Well, better late than never I guess. Another cousin, our hero's sister, called me yesterday with a plan. We are going to throw him a party to celebrate the forty years he's been out of the military. He is somewhere around sixty I think but he has cancer. We don't know how much longer he's going to be with us so we thought a party to celebrate his life would be better than us all grieving his death. This way he gets to enjoy being talked about. He is a hero . He earned the Bronze Star twice and some other medals or honors that I've heard he told the army to put where there is never sunshine. After the way they brought them home in the cloak of secrecy to avoid the radicals who would treat them badly it's a wonder any Vietnam vets have a positive view. I've heard many are homeless, many have severe emotional problems, some have given up on life itself. But some, like my cousin have walked on, they have raised children and enjoyed grandchildren, they have kept their faith and opened up to family or friends about what happened to them while they were in the closest thing to Hell most of them have ever dreamed of.
On the Sunday before Labor Day we will come together as a family with pies, cakes, fried chicken and potato salad to let our hero from the war know we won't forget his service to our country and to us. I'll apologize that my regards are so late.

Dogs of Peace

I've been waking up at 3am the last few mornings. Usually what I do when I can't get back to sleep is pray. I've been really trying to not talk so much but listen to God instead...He obviously has more important things to say to me than I do him. This morning was particularly interesting...I'll try my best to explain what I think he was getting at...somewhere in my praying I slipped into a dream, I think.

Sheep. I have always loved sheep. I have not been around many and I've been told that they tend to smell bad and are not very smart. Well, the same can be said about teenage boys and I usually have a yard or house full of them and love them too. I was once at the home of a friend who told me his mother was cooking lamb chops for dinner...being a huge Sherry Lewis fan, I was having no part in that. (To those of you who are too young to know who she is google her, she had a little friend named "Lamb Chop") I told him I had to leave. I know the people of the Bible ate sheep as well as used their wool for clothing and skin softener, the latter two don't bother me but killing them just makes me a little queezy not to mention very sad. Anyway, I had sheep in my dream but they weren't the main event...no, another animal was the champion of this dream. We had a shepherd, I am certain, now that I think of it he was Jesus, makes sense, he is the good shepherd. But, he had helpers. They were beautiful border collies who weaved in and out of the herd moving them around with great precision. The shepherd walked behind and the dogs did the work....I believe this dream was God's voice to my ears.
I have some very good friends who are those "Dogs or Peace". They are the ones I call on to ask for prayer, usually it's a request for someone they may not even know but they go to work for me. They work together and don't even know it. I have had some very specific requests lately and I see God moving in big ways and directing my sheep herding friends to go left or right, to visit someone who's about to go over a steep embankment, to stop and be still or to be bold and tell the truth in love. It's a beautiful picture of what the kingdom of God really is all about. It's not a church with a tall steeple, or beautiful architecture or the people who go to these establishments to "see and be seen". It's about the sheep....those of us who are smelly and not too smart. It's about all of us who are searchers, dreamers, failures and successes. The shepherd loves us all and the "Dogs of Peace" help guide us home.

This is a song that came to mind when I woke up after the dream.I wish I could have found it to download, it's a rock song but beautifully done by a group of studio musicians who call themselves "Dogs or Peace". The album is called Speak, if you can find it in the back of some record bin or on the net get it. The words of this song are simple but...hey, so are sheep.

Out on the mountain
The Shepherd is watching
Those running from all reason
We can help them see Him

We can do our part
To change the hearts
Of everyone who's
Out there running
Storms are coming
Out there on your own
You call the Spirit
Angels hear it
The dogs of peace will guide you home

We're merely servants
Bowed before the Master
Humbled that He'd choose us
We're amazed that He could use us

To do our part
In changing hearts
Of everyone who's
Out there running
Storms are coming
Out there on your own
You call the Spirit
Angels hear it
The dogs of peace will guide you home

We can do our parts
In changing hearts
Of everyone who's
Out there running
On your own
You call the Spirit
Angels hear it
The dogs of peace will guide you home

To Billy, Teresa, Kelly, LeAnn, Les, Michael, Melda, CarolAnn, and all I have missed...thank you. Keep up the good herding.

Lissy and the Crane

This morning on the way to school, as we were leaving our driveway we saw that the crane that loves to sit on the bank of the pond was caught in a fishing line. The line was left there this summer by someone fishing. I hadn't really paid much attention to it but when I saw the crane I thought maybe someone should have gotten it out of the tree...that someone probably was me but I don't have tons of time to think about the pond or things hanging over it. Anyway, the poor bird was caught at near the tip of one wing, the line had obviously wrapped around it and tightened so he couldn't pull it loose. I felt so sorry for him but Lissy was beside her self. She kept asking me what I was going to do for "Bob", that's what I started calling him because he is a Crane and the only famous crane I could remember was an actor named Bob. Lissy kept saying "poor little guy, we have to help him". It was so cute to see her concern! She even suggested that we call somebody! I didn't know anyone to call at 7:30am to rescue a giant prehistoric looking bird! We got back from taking the older girls to school and he was still standing there waving his wing at us...Lissy wailed, "Mama, we have to help the little guy" again. I called our neighbor Trip who seems to be something of a nature lover himself...I know for a fact he threatened to call the proper authorities to some mean boys in the neighborhood for trying to shoot our owls, why would anyone want to shoot an owl? Okay, sorry, need to focus....he said he would come out and see what he could do...then from the front porch Lissy "directed" Trip...she told him to "get something at yours house and cut Bob's wing loose", and she asked "are you gonna hep him Mssr Trip?" "He is stuck in the fish line, poor lil guy" I was trying to get myself together so I could be out the door for an appointment in just a few minutes so I was listening.I seriously doubt he could hear her but she directed just the same. She cheered when Trip cut him loose. She yelled "Mom, Mssr Trip got him! He got him!" She was so appreciative and excited. I think she really felt empathy for the bird, this is a sweet and wonderful emotion for a four year old. I am so thankful for her kind spirit.

After thought....Matthan felt terrible that he couldn't help Bob before school but he was running late as is his habit. He said he really felt bad when he saw a baby crane there with Bob, perhaps we should change "his" name to Babette.

To Whom It May Concern:

I have been witnessing something for several months. It began as a natural affection for the tiniest human I'd ever seen, much less held in my hands.I am a foster mother, consequently many of my closest friends are foster mothers too. My good friend Kelly brought home a little precious angel...he had been born many weeks early and needed constant vigilant care. Kelly was God's choice for this child because, as with most foster children the biological mother was not able for whatever reason to handle the responsibilities of a high demand, special needs child. I had talked to Kelly many times at length about what it meant to foster and how she and her family was up to the challenge of taking in children and letting them go when the time was right. This little boy is now 20 months old. The physical therapists and doctors said he wouldn't do near what he's doing now. Kelly's family has challenged him at every stage, made him reach farther and work harder to get him to the place he is today. Last night I witnessed him with the family and extended family at a local restaurant, he was walking all over the place! We are all his cheerleaders. At one point he saw me looking at him and he waved his little hand at me. I waved back and blew him a kiss, he put his hand to his mouth to return the gesture. I wanted to cry.
Kelly has said so many times that she wouldn't let her heart be set on adopting this sweet baby because of some factors none of us have any control over. He is a black child and Kelly's family is white...there is no color separation in this little boy's mind, he has decided in his young life to call Kelly "Mama", she didn't teach him to do this, she tried to get him to call her "Nanny Kelly", he heard her biological children calling her "Mama" so there was no stopping this. Children need to call somebody "Mama" I just believe that is born into them....this boy loves Kelly because all his life she has been his mama. Kelly's family has no problem with him being of another race. They have friends from different ethnic groups and backgrounds, they love him because he is the person he is not because of or in spite of his ethnicity, but there are problems with this in the eyes of some. Another reason Kelly has not wanted to get her heart set on adopting this child is there is a "resource" available who is a family connection. I have no reason to think these people are bad or have any wrong motives for wanting custody of this child but they have not been there all his life. He is still very young, but he is very attached to his present family and attachment continues to be the prevailing factor in foster children's learning problems, emotional instability, poor social interaction and many other issues that effect children in the system. I have experienced this first hand! I have done extensive research and I believe if a child can be placed early in his life in a positive environment where he is stable and LOVED he can thrive in spite of his beginning. This child is a perfect case study for my theory.
He really shouldn't have made it....but he did.
He shouldn't have made the progress he has with Cerebral Palsy.....but he has.
He shouldn't be walking yet.........but he can.
He shouldn't be talking yet........but he does.
Where would this child be without a family who has in spite of themselves fallen deeply in love with him?
Where will he go from here?
My suggestion has been all along, some form of co-parenting. If parental rights are terminated for his biological mother, let Kelly's family keep him. Let the family resource be just that, a resource that has some input in his life and plays a part in his upbringing. Every child benefits from more adults and extended family loving him. It is just not morally right to strip him from the only home he's known. We have all seen the heartbreaking scenes on the news of caseworkers tearing a toddler out of another families arms while the child has a total breakdown. Why would anyone want to do that? It is a terribly selfish act on the part of the adults.
Bottom line, I saw this little boy in the middle of his "real" family last night...Kelly's immediate family and those of us who would also grieve the loss if he had to be removed from their home. I know he will suffer a tremendous, possibly irreversible setback if he is not adopted by my sweet selfless friend.
We hear "best interest of the child" all the time....adoption by present foster family IS best interest for this child.