First Day of School 2012

 It's begun!  The first day of school!  This year brings so many challenges; I now have 4 kiddos at the school table, compared to last year's 1.  The first day was good, not without bumps of course, but good nonetheless.  The girls still aren't sure how to do homeschool which provided many of the bumps.  Fortunately, for Jack this was old-hat and he jumped right in without any issues.  Sam struggled with a heaping helping of "I don't wanna" but he dove in once he realized he got the majority of mom's attention.

This was Grace's contribution to the day...her cuteness. She also worked on toddler busy-bags that I have from a bag swap I did last spring.  And of course, she drew her share of ladybugs and butterflies and tigers (all her favorites).  

Sam worked HARD today...once he got over a wicked case of "I don't wanna."  Technically Sam should still be in preschool, doing K4, but he protested so loudly last year about being the only who left every day that we decided to let him stay home this year and do a kindergarten curriculum.  We are starting the year doing the K4 curriculum from Confessions of  a Homeschooler and  will move   on to  various reading programs later in the year.   Sam is also working through Expedition Earth for geography, and Old Testament Catechism for Bible (along with the older kids).  

I honestly cannot believe that Jack is starting second grade.  WOW, where did the time go??  This year Jack is working through Tapestry of Grace, Year 2, at the lower grammar level.  His year will focus on the Middle Ages through the reformation.  TOG covers his history, geography, reading, writing, church history and fine arts.  He is working on Singapore Math, Old Testament Catechism for Bible, Expedition Earth for (current) geography, and Astronomy by Apologia for science.  He's got quite a bit on his plate but he proved today that he is more than capable! 

May is in 6th grade and Ana is in 5th grade this year.  We 

decided not to put them in public school because their academic career up to this point has been sporadic at best.  We have a lot of room to cover before we feel comfortable they will find success in a public school class.  The girls are working through Horizons for Math, Tapestry of Grace, Year 2, upper grammar for geography, history and reading/writing. They are skipping the church history portions at first.  They are also working on Old Testament Catechism, Apologia Astronomy and Expedition Earth.  Home school is a change for them, having been public schooled their entire lives.  We are working on creating independent, active learners/thinkers. We are also working on instilling intrinsic motivation and a desire to do everything as unto the Lord.  Today was a good first day for them!

The Road of Adoption is Never Straight

I wrote this about 2 weeks after meeting Juanzarian.  Ultimately, CPS decided that because of his past and the burdens left to him to carry, our family was not a good match -- a devastating blow to all of us.  He's still there, in foster care, waiting for a forever family.    


Alternately titled "How Juanzarian Changed My Life"

It was raining that day, February 4th. Not cold wintery rain but Houston-muggy rain. The kids were at my parents' house for the weekend, typically a time for a mini stay-cation for us. Not this weekend though. This weekend we were too nervous, too anxious, too everything and anything to do much marriage-dating. We pulled into the parking garage, following the "Adoptive Parents" signs and it was there I thought my heart was going to finally break free from the rib cage holding it in my chest. I couldn't breathe. I didn't want to go, couldn't go, but didn't know why. Thank God for strong husband with strong hands and strong leadership. Without him I'd probably still be sitting in that van.

We made our way through the check-in and sat through an expected and very typical orientation, as if anything said could "orient" us to what was about to happen, could prepare us for what we were about to experience. Then we were escorted to the 5th floor. I'll never forget that elevator ride, trying to hide my nerves from all the staff faces around me. When we entered the conference center room, there were children as far as the eye could see. In hindsight I'm sure there were only about 100 kids present but it felt like they were everywhere, crawling over everything. And not one of them fit our picture of the child we wanted to adopt. So, I thought, this is what an adoption fair looks like. I wanted to run from the room.

We took a lap, as if we were shopping, searching for anyone that might be a good fit for our little family. Oh, the arrogance of that moment. It makes my eyes sting, the stench of it all. Finding ourselves again in the back of the room, I tried to pick a fight with Luke, tried to prey on his natural shy disposition. I hoped if I could rattle him enough he'd let me leave...and then it'd be his fault. He's too wise for me. Calming my nerves, brushing down my feathers, he took the lead and sat me at a table with two 8 year old little girls.

I can do this. I can love on these kids and with no intention of adopting them. I can be Jesus with skin on for a few hours. No problem. So I took my adoption hat off and stuffed it in the bottom of my purse, fully intending to leave it there for the remainder of the day. I made bookmarks, took silly pictures, played CandyLand. And I relaxed. I began to breathe again.

They caught my attention with their running. Those two little boys, younger than Jack I thought, giving that poor clown more than he could handle. I can tame them, me the little-boy-whisperer. The little girls had scampered off to find more things to do and hadn't invited us to follow so we ventured to the clown. Maybe they can be ours, I thought. So I began to watch, began to interact.

I don't remember when he sat down, not the exact moment anyway. I remember him being there, all of a sudden, close, purposeful. But I need to focus on the little boys I remember thinking. All I could hear was a direct command to talk to him, all I could feel was a tug in my insides toward his direction that was so distracting I was having difficulty holding a conversation with Luke. So I spoke first. All niceties and pleasantries. How old are you? What grade is that? Do you play football? Basketball? I thought it would be quick. We'd chitchat and he'd leave and that would be it, that would be the extent of our commitment to one another. That tug wouldn't stop, that connection wouldn't let go. Soon I realized that Luke had been sucked in and then I looked up to find that the little ones I'd been watching were gone, lost in the crowd. And yet there I sat, talking and listening and falling in love with this man-child.

He left to claim a door prize and I looked at Luke, square in the face. I don't remember what we said but I do know there weren't many complete or even comprehensible sentences. We both knew. He was the missing piece. Our world had been flipped upside down, shaken wildly, while we sat watching a grown man juggle. Luke sought out the case worker and I stayed in my spot, worried that if I left the connection might be lost. Thank God he came back. Thank You God, he came back.

We spent the rest of the afternoon with him, playing games, building towers, watching a magic show. We encouraged him, loved on him, talked about him and us. We made the necessary arrangements to move forward with his adoption. We didn't want the end to come. But came it did. I held out my fist, a lame way of looking cool. And he hugged me. And I thought I might breakdown right there. He hugged me. And then he was gone.

I sat in my chair, soaking in the realization of what had happened in those four hours. And it was then the veil was completely lifted and I saw for the first time the very thing of which I had been a part. Luke and I began to talk, began to wonder. Where is the church? In all of this -- where were we? In our effort to pursue holiness we'd forgotten them. God have mercy. Oh the emotions that flooded. The realities that rushed in...I'm not sure I can ever explain them all, as they deserve.

In the days that followed I wept. For my arrogance -- as if I could chose the child. Didn't I know they were choosing as much as I was? For my disobedience -- we'd been called 18 months earlier to adopt an older child. And we'd ignored that calling, listening instead to the well-meaning but mis-guided, convincing ourselves that older children would harm our bio-kids. And all the while, our potential son sat in foster care waiting to be adopted. For the ones I couldn't take -- for the other 99+ kids there and the other 1900+ kids in the area, just like him who desperately need a home. I will never ever be the same. Those kids, they stole my heart. One boy, trapped between man and child, grabbed hold of my world and shook. He wrecked me forever and I thank God for that.

This isn't where I thought we'd go. This isn't what I thought our family would look like. But I am so glad His ways are higher than my ways, His thoughts are higher than my thoughts. I'm so incredibly blessed that in my disobedience He still used me, still pursued me, still provided a way I could get back to what he wanted for me.

I used to think that adoption was a destination -- an end. That the waiting and paperwork and training were the journey that lead to completion of our family. Now I'm not so sure. Now I think adoption is, itself, the road; it is the journey. This road of adoption hasn't been straight. But the twists and turns, the curves and bumps and wash-outs have been worth it. I can't trade what I've learned, what I've gained. This ride has been wildly beautiful. And as far as complete? I'm not sure family is ever complete. It always has room to grow.

The girls are here

I know most of you know this but for posterity's sake and to cover those who may not know...our daughters are here!  April 28th, two girls named Malayasia and Analeah, moved into our home to become a part of our family -- forever! I've had a wicked case of writer's block since they arrived, primarily because I'm worried I'll share too much.  The girls are older and so it feels like there is a difference in what I can share. I don't know if that's true, but the thought of it has dammed up any writing I might have been doing.  I'll try to share, here and now, enough to answer some questions.  Consider this my metaphorical toe-dipping into the water.

 How old are the girls?  What do they look like? Malayasia is 11.5 years old and Analeah is 10 -- 5th and 4th grades respectively.  Both girls are part hispanic, part black.  Malayasia is tall -- only three inches shorter than me! -- while Analeah is on the shorter end of the growth chart.  Both girls are stunningly beautiful, with dark eyes, sparkling smiles and gorgeous curly hair.  They have cute personalities too which makes them oh so loveable!

How did this happen?  Unlike all the other kids that have some through our house, the girls were not a CPS case.  The girls have a younger brother that was adopted by some very dear friends of ours.  When we found out that the girls were looking for a home too we begin to pray about the entire situation.  It took a while to get some of the human issues out of the way but once we all moved aside and let God work, things happened quickly!  This is a private adoption, of sorts.  We already have relinquishment and will finalize on the adoption in about another 5 months (state law says you have to wait 6 months before adoption consummation can occur).  The absolute best part of this is that the girls won't leave!  They are ours, forever and ever.  The consummation in 5 months is just to dot all the legal i's and such.

How are you doing?  We are doing well.  I'd be lying if I said there isn't an adjustment period.  While that has been difficult at times, I have to say that it's nothing like I thought it would be.  And at the end of the day, it's so hard to struggle with people who crave love and affection and attention so completely.

Can we see pictures?  I'm sure you could...if I would ever take any!  Chasing 5 big kids around is a challenge!  And the girls rarely sit still for a photo op.  Mostly they are running wild with the boys and I'm lucky if I'm able to capture a picture on my phone.  Once things slow down (we are in intake mode with doctor and dentist appts) I'm going to schedule some time with a photographer to get some professional shots.

I'll post more later...just wanted to get a little out there!

And then there were 3

The babies left Wednesday afternoon. It was a decision that we made in tandem with CPS and our agency. Tough though it was, deciding to allow them to go was the best choice.

Here, in this place called a failed placement, life seems to be turned on its ear. We struggle to stand under the word failed; no one wants to fail -- the guilt and anger and sadness are almost overwhelming. Our kids are a little raw from losing siblings. I find myself counting my little hens as we walk out the door, only to startle each time when I stop at 3 instead of 5.

And it's here, at the bottom, I find myself more often than not exchanging my rose-colored glasses for ones of a more chartreuse tint. I want my adoption to work. In all honesty, I want this road to end, this journey to be complete. Through many connections made because of adoption I know so many people who are done. For every horror story I've heard I can recount an almost fairy-tale like situation. I want the latter. I get jealous that it seems so easy for some people. And just when that happens I know that I've let my guard down enough that the enemy has started whispering his own venomous version of sweet little nothings in my ear.

Adoption is about trauma. It is born of trauma, of loss, and while my God can certainly heal those wounds the scars left behind are permanent. It's naive of me to think that the trauma is only for the child. No -- some of the trauma is for us, the adoptive family, too. When we take on the responsibility of being one of the families God puts the lonely in (psalm 68:6) we agree to take on the good and bad, including the trauma. Any family who has adopted has experienced trauma -- whether it happened before "gotcha day" or after is irrelevant. None of it is easy.

Where do we go from here? I pull up the bootstraps. Return to journals so I can remember why in the green world I am doing this. And we press on. For practicality's sake, we are not going to foster for at least a year. Given the tumultuous nature of 2011, we think we should focus on straight-adoption of waiting children for a while. We are still committed to state adoptions so we aren't looking internationally at this time and domestic private adoptions aren't something we feel called to pursue. There probably won't be many updates for a while as the straight-adopt process can take a while to match to a waiting child.

Continue to pray for us -- that we would ready ourselves and our home for our forever child. For our kids -- that their wounds would be healed as they grieve the loss of the babies. And stick around as I'm sure God has lots in store for us this year!

Intentionality

Ann Voskamp. Do you know her? I don't know her know her but I do know of her. And love what bits of her heart she's shared with the great wide world. She names her years, as a way to focus herself on her goal/s for that time. I love the idea but I struggled with naming my kids so the idea of naming an entire year was daunting with a capital scary. So I didn't.

Instead I wrote out my goals -- for the first time ever if I remember correctly. After writing them out, I really began to study them, knowing that success would be possibly only after I addressed not just the behaviors I wanted to change but the motivation behind those behaviors. (A sidenote: I do this with my kids all.the.time. Why did I never think before now to do it to myself?) Time and again I came around to the same word -- intentional. If I am going to be healthy I am going to have to be intentional. If I am going to actually reach my goal of writing a list of 1000 things to be thankful for, ever going to better understand eucharisteo I am going to have to intentional. If I am going to change my Bible study habits I am going to have to be intentional. If I am going to do anything well, right, correct I am going to have to be intentional.

Right smack in the middle of that epiphany is when I realized 2012 had named itself -- my year of intentionality. I must use that word a gazillion times when I'm talking about raising my kids, when I'm speaking of shepherding their young hearts and shaping their minds. But I've never thought to turn it lose in my life.

So here I am -- in my year of intentionality -- knowing I can't do anything on my own but choosing each day to embrace a new day's worth of grace and using it to intentionally seek more, see more, do more.

Update

It's been almost 2 full weeks since I declared for all the world my addiction to food. Seriously...so embarrassing. I consider taking that post down daily. I'm making some huge strides and though I am nowhere close to where I need to be I can tell the changes are huge. Mega-HUGE. Y'all I'm talking pass-up-the Shipleys-donut-for-multigrain-cheerios-even-though-I-already-bought-the donuts HUGE. Typically I would've polished those bad boys off. Can't waste food -- I'm doing it for the poor starving children who would love to have to eat those donuts. But I let them go. Huge.

My workouts haven't been anywhere close to consistent. I'm getting there though. I can at least say I haven't given up, a typical occurrence in years past. A benefit of baring your soul on the internet is that LOTS of people know...and ask. An awesome benefit, actually, because instead of having just 2 accountability partners I have several. Very very nice, indeed.

Other things are coming about because of my change in attitude but I'll save those for another post. Right now I have to go gently remind my children, for the seventy billionth time, that napping doesn't include jumping from the top bunk.

Homeschool dorks

Here at the Pearson Academy of Excellence in Higher Learning Institute, ltd (we don't have a fancy name for our "school" ... we just call it "home") we are busy breeding the next generation of homeschool dorks. No lie. When I first felt the God-tug on my heart to pursue homeschool, one of my biggest fears was creating a bunch of little dorks. Now I gleam with pride at their dorkiness!

How do I know the tides are turning? When they sang the 50 states in alphabetical order with every state line we crossed to and from Florida. When the typical "cowboys and Indians" turns into Davy Crockett and Black Hawk. When Jack declares, "Stand back knights. Let them sample my blade!" When they pull the animal encyclopedia out to choose the animals they are "going to be" while playing with friends. Such adorable little homeschoolers!

Of course just when I think they've completely transformed...I find them outside using the fort as a deer blind, shooting the inflatable target with nerf crossbows. And for them, no hunting trip is complete until you field dress the animal and bring mom the back strap.