Yep... It's you. Not them.

I got indignant this morning.  With a five year old.  Simply stating that fact means that the five year old acted a little more mature than I did.  I hate when days start out this way.


Last night I went to a ladies' Bible study held at my church.  When it comes to a Bible study at our church we study... wait for it... the Bible.  Imagine that.  No fuzzy books on living well or putting your best foot forward.  Nope, just the Bible.  So, last night we were in Acts and we were challenged to think about how we compare ourselves/actions.  Do we compare them to others, thus finding a way to "rise above" as Saul did; finding faults in others to excuse our own sin, or do we measure ourselves again the King of Creation, the Holy God, as Paul strove to do?  It was extremely convicting.  So much so, that after I was "Saul like" this morning, I was pretty embarrassed about it.  Especially as I was sizing myself up against a five year old and using his "sins" to justify my own parenting faux pas.  Frankly, laying it all out on the table like that makes me look like quite the moron.


So, in about 20 minutes when the bus rolls up I have some humble pie to eat and a five year old from whom I need forgiveness.  I am so thankful that forgiveness is free, or I would have a lot of work to do...


Until later,
Crow eating Angel

One Thought at a Time Please...

As a mother of five children I rarely have time to mutter a cohesive sentence, let alone ponder anything deeper than, say, the complex relationship between peanut butter and jelly.  But I have had a topic on my brain for the last few weeks.  It flits in and out as it pleases, and I haven't had much time to unravel it, but here it goes...


I think adopting trans-racially is easier than adopting a child that blends in perfectly to your family.  Did that just give you whiplash as you reread it, to make sure you read correctly?


This may ruffle feathers a bit and I get that.  I only can talk about what I have experienced, and again I have not taken the time to sit down and write a dissertation on this subject.  Just remember... peanut butter and jelly.  Okay, now that I have the disclaimer out of the way, I will let you into the vast space in my head that holds the millions of thoughts that float around simultaneously.


You do not know this yet, as it has been AGES since I have checked in, but I am working very part time right now as a parent trainer for our county's department of children and youth.  The county contracts me to supervise visits between children in foster care and their parents, provide training to said parents in an effort to prepare them for reunification, and offer a support to the parents.  Right now I have only one case.  My client has two children who are vastly different in their skin tones and at the last visit we got into the discussion of race and perception.  Hang on while I hop back up that rabbit trail and get back on track...


Anyway, this discussion had me reflect back to other conversations I have had with friends who have adopted and friends and family who are adopted.  Some were trans-racial (or whatever the right "PC" word is right now) and some were not.  You will never doubt that there is a story behind my two youngest sons.  You may not know the story upon meeting us, but it is extremely obvious that there is one.


A recurring theme I hear from people my age that are adopted and from friends who adopted a child who blends in (looks wise) is, "When did you find out you were adopted?  When do we tell our child that they were adopted?"  In our house, it is not an issue, as my five year old can tell you all about the day he was adopted and some of his life before that amazing day last January.  My baby however, is clueless.


We brought home our youngest son at three days old as a foster baby and he has never spent a day away from us or home since.  A year ago we adopted him and while we celebrated, he concentrated on playing with my necklace.  In his world, it was barely a blip on the radar screen.  His sippy cup had more meaning to him that day.  But there will never be a day when he will not know that there is a story to unravel.  My baby boy has beautiful caramel toned skin.  My skin is about the shade of a piece of printer paper and just about as blinding after a long winter.


Because of this obvious daily reminder that we are not matching salt and pepper shakers in my family, there is always room for conversation.  I remember one day my now five year old told me that his skin was "brown" and mine was "blank" (see? "printer paper").  I got a giggle out of it and it started a great chat about why, and how cool that it was that so many tones can make up one family.  My three older kids who are all biologically linked to Mr. Clean and I, also talk openly about adoption and fostering and all the parts that make up our world.  It is natural, because it is who we are.  But what of our story was different?


Suppose we adopted children who easily could be mistaken for sharing our genes?  Perhaps they were too young to remember being adopted and had no older siblings to tell them about it?  Would it be easy to slip into family life and avoid the topic altogether (whether intentionally or unintentionally)?  I know that happened to my peers and perhaps it was simply due to "the times", but some of them found out about their adoptions in very jarring ways.  


We will never have that question.  We will never have to decide on the right timing to have the "adoption talk". I also find it easier to talk about my boys' ethnic heritage, as their Caribbean tones greet me with each sweet smile.  It just, "is".  Their adoptions are a fact of our lives and a celebrated daily acknowledgement, simply due to the obvious differences.  And please know that I am not ignoring all the other topics that my boys may want to discuss in regard to their skin tones, I am only talking about the joy of having a transparent adoption.


And, I also know families who have always talked openly about adoption to their children who could be exact little replicas of their adoptive parents.  They made the conscious effort to make it a natural part of their world and conversations, even though it may never come up otherwise (you would not believe the "conversation starters" that perfect strangers in the grocery store think they have a right to throw out there to you).  But I know more who would rather sweep it under the rug and talk about it, "later".


I am so thankful that "later" is not an option for us.  Our adoption reality is all over our faces.  Although the big cheesy smile may have given it away already.

So, Here We Are. Now What?

A million moons ago I somehow lost my RSS feeder. It was low on my priority list to try and find it again. You know, with raising children and being a fabulous wife and all. Little things like that. So today, for some unknown reason, I was inspired to find it again and see what was happening in the blog world. Boy, are you all quiet!

Many of the blogs I used to read daily are gone. Others are not updated often, some are still active. I tried to catch up the best I could after being gone for so long. Then there was the question of my own blog. The last entry was in February. Gulp.

I love to write. I have loved it as long as I can remember. As a child I had a writing desk in my room stacked with pens and paper, notebooks and stationary. I wrote all the time. Today, I have my laptop. I rarely write anymore and I miss it. So maybe it is time to dust off the blog, crack my knuckles and get back to it. I am not sure if any of the three people that used to faithfully follow this blog are even around anymore, but regardless, I will start again.

Tomorrow.

The Adoption Happy Dance

There IS light at the end of the foster journey. It is the big train called adoption and we have climbed on board. Again!

Last Wednesday, to everyone's joy, Eazy became legally part of our crazy clan, forever. Life is good...

A Life Full of Good Intentions

I have always wanted to be one of those women who had her friends' birthdays memorized, cards purchased weeks in advance and posted exactly three days before, to arrive precisely on time. Instead, I an one of those woman who can barely recall her own birthday or where the car keys are. Birthday cards? HA!

Once upon a time I purchased a small gift and card for my friend's son who happens to be born on Valentine's Day. His birthday is easy to remember. The gift and the card are still in a bag in my bedroom closet, waiting for delivery. It was supposed to be for his 7th birthday. He will be nine this coming Valentine's Day. I am a wee bit behind.

It is not because I do not love and cherish those in my life, especially my friends. I do. With my whole heart. I just cannot seem to get my brain on board. That is exactly how I feel about blogging and the amazing friends I have made the past few years in the blog world. I love you, really I do. I just can't seem to find the car keys...

So here we go again. Another month completely missed, where I used to blog daily. It makes me sad, as this was the way I used to keep up with the many friends I have all over the States, a great friend in Canada, and those abroad. I have not even had time to read my favorite bloggers. I popped on today because I wanted to read the blog of a friend, and decided I best dust off my own.

You did not miss much in November. We ate turkey, went to some soccer games and sent our oldest daughter to school. Well, that probably qualifies as news. Especially on a blog that started to document my homeschooling journey. So here is the skinny...

Xena has begged to join her brother at the Christian school he started in September, ever since she knew, in the summer, that he was going. We promised to consider it for next year. It just so happened that "next quarter" was a better time frame. K.Z. was offered a partial scholarship that paid half his tuition, and starting Xena a little late meant that we could afford to send her. Not that this was our plan, but it did work out perfectly. So, we sent her on a Thursday to "visit" to see how she would do and by that next Monday she was officially a student and climbed aboard the big yellow bus.

C'sa is still at home with me, diligently working at mastering Kindergarten, while Eazy and Iggy hang out and play. Next year, I may be focusing only on reeling in my toddler. But that is a story for another day. Or month, as it were. Either way, I promise I will be back...

The Big Six

So far in my life I have experienced six events that have changed the path of my life and my legacy. These would be....

1. Salvation - the biggie.

2. Marriage - Becoming Mrs. Mr. Clean was pretty cool, and I love every day I am his bride.

3. My first born son - K.Z. ranks pretty high up there in life experiences.

4. My first born daughter - I had named this child when I was a kid myself, years before I actually met her.

5. My baby girl - "Mini-Me" emerges.

6. Adopting my baby boy - "Wait!", you say. "What!? I have been reading this blog for (fill in time period here) and you did not tell us the big day was coming?! How could you! Humph!"

Please accept my heartfelt apologies. I have been neglecting this blog for quite a while, because life has been a little crazy. I would not mind getting off this hamster wheel for a minute, but for now, it is not going to happen.

So, here is the scoop! Yesterday we adopted our foster son, "Iggy" who has been with us since his birth. He is now and forever home!

Huh? Say what?!

“The (film) festival has been unfairly exploited to secure (Roman) Polanski’s arrest over a case that is all but dead. Despite the philistine nature of the collusion that has now occurred, we came to honor Roman Polanski as a great artist. We hope today this latest order will be dropped; it is based on a three decade old case that is all but dead except for a minor technicality.”

~Debra Winger

Is anyone paying attention to this case? According to Debra Winger, it is decades old and should be dropped. OH! Well, alrightly then. Let's just drop it. Would Ms. Winger think this case "is all but dead except for a minor technicality", if it involved her daughter? Except, that she does not have one. But I do.

And let me say for the record Ms. Winger, if she were drugged and raped at 13, by a sleezy 43 year old director/producer, you better believe I would not want to see the case dropped for any reason. Even if that rapist was a celebrated (pardon me while I spit for a moment) film maker.

What is happening in our country? I know that there are many things in this country that are not as they should be, but when it comes to child rapists, even the most hardened jailed criminal knows pedophiles have reached the very bottom of the scum pit. They even have "jailhouse justice" for people like this. Yet Hollywood is offended when a film festival's carefully planned events are disrupted by the arrest of this man after he fled punishment 30 years ago?

Cry me a river.

That is not to say that we shouldn't be praying for this man's redemption. I will admit I have a hard time doing that, but that is my own failure. I would rather see him get justice here on earth than the punishment that he (that we all) deserves in eternity. This whole case just makes me so sad for the way our country sees right and wrong. It's not as if we are the first however. Remember Rome?

Pray for Roman Polanski and pray for our country.

We Will Never Forget...

America has stood down enemies before, and we will do so this time. None of us will ever forget this day. Yet, we go forward to defend freedom and all that is good and just in our world.

- George W. Bush
43rd President of the United States
September 11, 2001

Has It Really Been a Month?!

Apparently I have not written in over a month. I knew that there would be times of famine on this blog, but my sakes; a month! And what a month it has been...

K.Z. started attending a small, local, conservative Christian school two weeks ago and he is in love with it. I am sure that the honeymoon period will wear off eventually, but I have a feeling that when that does happen he will still really like the school. His teacher, I have been told by two very, "in the know" nine year olds is, "funny". I liked her when I met her as well. I also like that she takes no prisoners.

The first day of school I watched the clock. I missed him terribly and wanted to know what he was doing every moment of the day. The third day of school, I almost forgot to get home in time for the bus. I think we both will be just fine. I have also decided in my head that he is simply attending a very long "homeschool co-op". After all, the school uses a popular curriculum with homeschoolers, so that scenario works in my head. Please do not inform me otherwise.

Although Xena has now informed me that she too would like to try a year at this academy, we are still homeschooling the rest of the kids this year. Xena is my star student and frankly, I really enjoy working with her. So second grade in her pajamas is right where I want her and that seems fine with her. Besides, she is a night owl like her mom and the school bus comes at 07:25. We are not usually even up then. Well, until two weeks ago when I was forced to against my will when I gladly got up to see my boy off for his first day and every day thereafter. Someone send reinforcements...






C'sa started Kindergarten and is not sure she loves it anymore. She was anxious and excited and bouncy until she saw the commitment. Now she wants to bounce away and play. Frankly, I want to go with her, but being the dutiful mother that I am , I gentle poke her with the cattle prod until she sits up straight and does small amount of seat work. I mean, this is just Kindergarten after all!







Eazy just turned four and has made so many leaps and bounds after being placed with us last December. He is definitely one of us now and I want it to be forever. That process however is just starting and will be sure to take a while. You know how I know?

Eazy

Because after 20 months of fostering and adoring Iggy, we are close to an adoption!! We are talking weeks now and I could not be more thrilled. There will sure be more to come on THAT!

C'sa and Iggy

So hopefully it will not be another month before I post again. I do not want to see this blog die a slow death after almost 4 years of writing. I would be sad to stop. So don't stop reading! I promise I will never be gone long!

Pardon Me, Your Epidermis Is Showing...

..."I couldn't help but notice your shade of melanin."

This past weekend the family and I went home to Maryland for two family reunions. One was on my mother's side and the other was my stepmother's family. Fortunately for us they happened the same day, not too far from one another, and we were able to enjoy both.

My stepmother has a large wonderful family and I have grown up with them. My late Aunt Lena, her sister, had seven children who now almost all have children of their own. Her brothers have grown children as well and I was able to see a lot of my cousins.

As a child I was very close to Lena's children and whenever I was with my Dad and Stepmom, I would hope to be able to see them. They were a great family and I wanted a family just as large and loving as theirs.

This weekend I got to introduce Eazy and Iggy to my cousins for the first time, as some of them live on the west coast or just not very close. My cousin Margie stayed at my parents' with us and got to spend more time with them. At one point, she was holding Iggy and I was noticing how her coloring was barely a shade lighter than his.

Both of my foster sons are hispanic. Iggy's bioparents are from Puerto Rico, as is Eazy's father. His mother is Spanish. They both have darker skin than I do, but in varying shades. Frankly, I could not care less. This weekend, I realized that my boys have a wonderful gift.

My cousin Margie and her six siblings are half hispanic. Their father, my uncle, is Puerto Rican. Because I grew up in a very diverse world, this was never odd or strange to me. The fact that my uncle had an accent and darker skin was natural to me. So natural that I forgot the significance to my boys until I saw the same coloring in Margie and Iggy.

More than likely these two little ones will be part of my family forever. Although we are a diverse family with varying skin tones, there will be no doubt to the boys as they grow that their skin is different than Mommy and Daddy's. But not Margie's. Or my 6 other cousins and their children who sport darker skin. They will have people who look like them in their family.

They may never care or feel out of place. That is my desire. But just in case, the Lord has provided them many family members that do look like them and share the same heritage. He is so good.

dc Talk - Colored People

I Just Had To Share

I snagged this from a friend. I laughed. And laughed again.
Forgive me, I just could not help posting this...

A Hard Blow

We lost a friend today. Robert Miller was a 42 year old father of three who was hit by a car while riding his motorcycle. For the past week he has been fighting for his life, but lost that fight this afternoon.

This is a man I have prayed with during small group, laughed with and grew to love as a brother in Christ. His family will have to now pick up the pieces and put their lives together without him. Please pray for them. When the funeral is done, the flowers have wilted and the condolence cards stop coming they will still be dealing with a pain so deep it can not be described. Life will go on for everyone else and eventually for his family, but their healing will take a million times longer. Please remember them then.

Is It That Particular Hope?

My youngest daughter C'sa has been begging to take "ballerina" for a few years now. I figured as she would not let up, she might not be kidding about her desire, so I signed her up for a week long, "ballet camp" just to get her feet wet and she what she thinks. She goes Monday through Friday this week, in the mornings. She is thrilled.

Yesterday, I had a friend stay with the other offspring while C'sa and I went off for her first day. She was so very excited and I was excited for her. I hung around a bit, reluctant to leave my baby girl chatting with the other mothers and the conversation of how many kids we each had came up. When I answered that I had five, one of the mother's remarked in astonishment that I looked, "so put together". She said she could barely manage her two.

Instead of falling on the floor and laughing out loud at the remark (which may have been perceived as rude) I thanked her. It must have been the magical lipstick that gave that very erroneous perception. I wish I had it all put together. In reality, I feel quite frazzled at times.

The comment got me thinking however. What did she see? There are times when I feel supernaturally calm about the journey I am on. Other times I throw myself a pity party about the "burden" of raising and juggling five children and managing a household. But I also know that I am not doing this job, "just because". This did not happen by chance. It was part of God's plan and I am happy to be a part of it.

1 Peter 1:3-7 says, "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade—kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God's power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed." (NIV)

Is it that living hope that shines through to believers and unbelievers alike? I have no idea as to the state of that other mom's redemption, but could it be that that is what she saw when she thought I was, "put together"? Especially on a day when I felt so much less than that?

I do have somewhere to turn on those days when the world seems to run you ragged. I have a greater hope, something amazing to look forward to in my future. I have a place to rest in the midst of chaos. I hope that is what she saw. Maybe next time I will have the courage to share it...

"...Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect..." 1Peter 3:15