Did you see me, mama? Did I do good?

I am not a football mom. Except that I am - and it is strange to even hear myself admit that. My 7th grade son recently joined the football team at school. We live in Texas where the sun rises and sets on football. It was important to him on so many levels. Being on the football team meant he belonged, that he was Texan, that he had athlete status, and that he had the fortitude to make it through the grueling practices. Dad and I were raised in California and neither of us are football people. Some things Texas are still a bit mysterious to us. Like football. But our boy was in and so were we.

So, last Tuesday, this non-football mom found herself in the bleachers for the first game of the 7th grade C Team (I never said he was THE BEST player). It was hotter than heck, I was still wearing my black scrubs from work earlier, and I was holding our 2 month old foster baby. But I came and I cheered for whatever I assumed was good for our team. I watched as my 12-year-old played offensive line (at least that is what I assumed he was playing). I tried to catch his eye when he was on the side lines but we were too high, the sun was too bright, and he couldn't see me. After the game, I schlepped the baby, my purse, and the diaper bag all back to the car (which was a ways away since this is Texas and apparently everyone comes out for a middle school football game) as I continued to drip sweat. I was only a little cranky and tired.

He got home later that night all pumped up from his first ever tackle football game. The first words out of his mouth, "Did you see me, mama? Did I do good." And my heart broke into a million tiny pieces. It didn't matter that I didn't think of myself as a football mom. It didn't matter that I was completely exhausted and hot from my effort to attend his game. I suddenly remembered one of the most important lessons in parenting. In all our efforts to provide for our children, to raise our children to be good human beings, to mold them and to teach them, there are really only two things they want from us. Are we looking at them with adoring eyes? Do we approve of who they are?

Do you see them, mama?

Do they know their worth?

Baby Barn Swallows and My Fragile Heart

Every spring I look forward to the nest building fury of tiny barn swallows building their nest high above my front door. It might be my inner Californian that is feeling wistful for the San Juan Capistrano swallows, or it could be hope that I sense for the birds as they build their nest and anticipate their brood. Either way, I get emotionally attached to the birds and the goings on above my door.

Swallows are really adorable little birds. They are agile and fun to watch fly. They bring the benefit of eating lots of the bugs that like to hang around the threshold of our home. We watch them build their nest so very high on a little bitty ledge that is tucked into the roof line of our two story house. And every year they come right back to where they left off.

Unfortunately they are messy. My porch ends up covered in bird poop. It's gross. They also tend to go a little overboard when building their nests. They build that thing with everything they find! Truly I have seen bits of diaper debris that was surely left by a naughty yellow lab in the backyard in their nest in the front! Many days we would come home to straw and other dried plant materials covering the porch. Whatever nest building materials not woven in are left in a heap on the poop covered porch. Its a pretty mucky mess.

But, oh, as we hear those first chirps! Those little guys hatch and my heart fills with excitement - and dread. I am thrilled for new life. I have hope that they grow, gain feathers, and at some harrowing point, spread their wings and fly out of that crazy nest. I love hearing little chirps as I walk in and out of my front door. Then it happens. And I can't take it. It isn't good for my heart. At least once a summer I find a baby bird with immature wings, barely feathered, and still a somewhat bald little head, dead. I open my front door and as I go to step out all my air gets sucked in with one swift breath. No. And I can't help it. The tears sting my eyes.

This year during swallow season around the same time as my baby bird tragedy, I had one of my foster baby birds leave my nest. Though she was 18 and could legally make the choice for herself, her feathers had not grown in. Her head was still a little bald. And her wings were definitely immature. Yet she left. Too soon. Finding the baby bird on my porch just made my heart ache for my little one who will land too hard. It's not good for my heart. And yet, I won't knock down the swallows nest and I can't seem to stop fostering.

This condition of my heart, it appears to be chronic. 

Failing, with love

Someone recently commented on how they didn't know how I managed to do it all (they were clearly deceived). I am a mother of many. I have too many pets. I work full time as a school nurse. I am one crafty lady with fabric and the sewing machine (that I wish I could get to more often). I cook, mostly from scratch, every night. I work out every morning - no, wait, I don't. I am a wife. I do epic loads of laundry all weekend long. And I fail every day.

I fail. I fail a lot. I yell at my kids when I don't mean to. My desk is always a mess. I have 25 half done projects. I cooked PB&J tonight. We overslept by an hour yesterday morning. We haven't had a date night in months. And our washing machine was broken last weekend. My house is in a constant state of upheaval. I fail at something every day.

But there is one thing I know how to do. I know how to love. I know how to love kids. I love fiercely and sometimes irrationally. I love my students at school. I love my kids at home. I love kids that don't live with me anymore. I love my grown up kid. I love my furry kids. And I love my husband who agreed to take this crazy kid adventure with me. I know how to love.

Love Does

For a while God has been prompting me to write again. It feels a little foreign to be typing anything longer than the standard social media post, but in order to be obedient, here I am.

This year has been a doozy - yes, I still think in terms of school years. Since this one is coming to a close, I am reflecting on it much the way most normal adults reflect on the past year in December. And this year gives me much to reflect on.

Don't read Bob Goff's book Love Does if you like the way your life is going. Brian and I have a pretty decent life. Over the years we have done some good things - leading ministry with students and children, coaching, and foster parenting. We have had some good jobs - I am a nurse and Brian thinks he is a social worker. We have loved some good people. And then God.

I didn't understand the phrase "God wrecked my life" before this year. Why would God wreck someone? If you were doing things God's way, what is there to wreck? I was a knee deep Christian. This year took me in over my head. I was wrecked.

We had a rapid fire summer. We mission tripped, we summer camped, we traveled, and we took a foster placement that would extend us to the end of us. Over the summer at camp I discovered (late to the game, I know) Blue Like Jazz by Don Miller and devoured it. Amazon being cleverly Amazon suggested if I liked Blue Like Jazz I might like Love Does. Oh, Amazon. Love Does did it. I was hooked and I knew that God already had plans for us to do Love. I just didn't know how much Love was going to cost. Turns out Love costs everything - and in return you get more.

Summer spit us into Fall and school started. One child at every level of education this year, daycare/preschool, elementary, middle, high school, and college. Fall started to unravel our already frayed teen foster daughter into a complete heap of threads unwoven at their core - or never woven correctly in the first place. Things were hard. Love got harder to do.

At what we see now as the crux of the hard we would endure, Love came to town. Well, Bob Goff, Don Miller, and a crew of their friends came to town. They held the Love Does conference in the Hill Country of Austin, TX and Brian and I decided it was meant to be. We attended the conference in the midst of our troubled daughter expressing her anguish through self harm and suicidal thoughts, we had a CPS caseworker at the time that seemed unconcerned for the severity of her case, and a foster agency that wasn't backing us up and ultimately in conversation questioned our very core - they questioned our faith. We missed the closing talk by Bob Goff. We had to leave early to pick up our daughter from school because her suicidal thoughts and self injury had become so bad. We left to do Love. And it hurt a little bit.

Fall rapidly changed to winter and somewhere in the midst of bleakness we felt a little shift. Our family started to understand how far Love could take you. Love took us deep into our daughter's depression. It took us through crazy PTSD nightmares and sleep walking. It took us to domestic violence shelters, to refugee apartments, to acupuncturists, to psychiatrists, to therapy, to sleeping on couches next to a child who couldn't shake the night time terror. It took us to the edge but didn't let us go. Love didn't release us from our mission. If anything Love drove us deeper in.

Spring came and Bob and Don were getting together again (those two) at Don's Storyline Conference. Love started to change us and we felt moved to go to San Diego to get a clearer picture of this crazy journey we were on. Don said some things like, "understand your story" and "live your passion" and it was good stuff. Bob told us to go Love people. So we went home, Loved people and worked harder at finding ways to help heal hurting children, our hurting child.

Spring is almost summer now and Love did something amazing. She has been two months free of self injury. She has worked harder on getting better than I have ever seen. She is an engaged part of our family. She is becoming Love herself. Today I got a call that she had rescued a fallen baby bird. It was in her bedroom as she was walking to school. Love did the best thing she knew to do, take the wounded into our home and love it (we quickly went home and re-rescued it back outdoors to it's mama's nest - but the intention was there). Love is contagious.

God wrecked my life with Love. How dare He! I hope He'll do it again.

A Minivan Mom and Her Past Jeep Life

I am a minivan mom. Now, I have owned my minivan for several years and have been a mom for over 10, so this is no surprise admission. But this morning, as I was driving, I saw this funny juxtaposition that put it all in perspective.

Up early this Saturday morning, I was off to run errands before I launched my typical Saturday that consists of running kids all over town, washing the mountains of laundry (said kids produce), and cleaning the house (as best as I can). I found myself unusually alone in the minivan this morning, a rare and cherished moment to myself. Driving along, I was sipping my coffee (that I made at home) from my Tervis (that I had haphazardly rinsed yesterday's coffee out of), when I look over to my right. Traveling in the lane next to me is a picture of me from a different era - a young thin blonde woman, sipping her coffee (from Starbucks), with the top off of her sweet little Jeep.

I chuckled at myself. I was once her, or like her anyways, cute and seemingly carefree - all my worries whipped away by the wind blowing through my hair in my open Jeep. I looked around me, a minivan full of treasures left behind by the many children that usually accompany me, car seats (empty right now), and the Lord only knows how many half eaten food items stuffed into the various nooks and crannies that minivans are known for. This is a far cry from my old ride.

As fun as Jeep life was, I wouldn't trade it for my minivan life. I will drink my homemade coffee from my slightly dirty Tervis and treasure the mess that is my life. This minivan thing, it just represents a Jeep woman who has grown up. I raised my Tervis to my friend on my right and toasted to old times. Here's to minivan driving women everywhere, who used to drive Jeeps.

If God were a search engine...

Do you ever wish you could just Google God? I do. This week I found myself searching my favorite search engine for answers to big questions – life impacting and life changing questions. I would type in my whole question like the Google genie at the other end might pop up several answers with the most pertinent at the top. The absurdity didn’t even strike me. I am desperate for answers and guidance. I found myself really desiring wisdom for answers to my questions.

Not surprisingly Google did not give me any answers. In fact, I found emptiness in the information that I did get. Or worse, in the end, I had more questions.

What was I thinking? Of course, Google was not where I would find my answers or wisdom. But my microwave mentality (I want instant results) got the best of me. Back to the original search engine I go. What better place to seek wisdom than in Proverbs? Oh that Solomon, he was one wise guy.

My middle child spoke my heart the other day, “I wish I could just write Jesus a letter and He would write me back. I would ask him about Heaven and like what I am supposed to do. Then I could get a letter from Him, it would just appear, and He would tell me about these things.” Jesus as a pen pal. Hmm… God as a search engine… Then again, maybe He is there for me to search, in prayer, and perhaps the answers won’t pop up immediately on my computer screen. But surely I will get better results.

The Tooth Fairy Fail

It's been a long time since I have been thinking bloggy and composing posts in my head. But yesterday's events flipped the switch and reminded me that sometimes life gives me very blog-worthy moments.

There are a few things in the world of parenting that I super stink at. Keeping tabs on the Tooth Fairy is definitely a serious short coming for me. First of all, am I the only one who doesn't see the loss of a tooth as a major momentous event? I guess being an elementary school nurse and having multiple lost teeth a day numbs my sentimental-tooth-losing side. Whatever it is, my kids lose a tooth and by bed time, when they are pouring their hearts out in letters to the Tooth Fairy, I am merrily going on about my business.

To make matters infinitely worse, neither my husband nor I ever carry cash should the Tooth Fairy forget to stop by. The thing about cash is that if you have it, invariably your kids ask for it. The Tooth Fairy has left quarters, gold dollars, "borrowed" money (from the last time they visited - could have even been from the last time they visited the child's sibling - I know). She has left IOU's, gift cards, and sometimes she even leaves them down in the crack between the bed and the wall - I don't know why, but in that case it is usually me that has to "help find" the money. In any case, two nights ago the Tooth Fairy plumb forgot to come and without any cash to my name I couldn't help the old gal out.

Reba, ever Reba, decides she is going to get to the bottom of this. She Googles, "Where was the Tooth Fairy last night?" Yes, she was seriously going to track this fairy down and let her know what was what. Anyhow, somehow she found this Tooth Fairy site and right away got herself assigned a new Tooth Fairy. "Twinkle" will now be servicing all her Tooth Fairy needs. Great.

I am pretty sure "Twinkle" came around 5:30am. I may have been up feeding a baby around that time and heard some fairy commotion.

Unsolicited Prayer

Unsolicited prayer. Today my family was the recipient of one such prayer. Unsolicited but oh so welcomed.

A woman that we didn't know, sat in front of us at church today. This lady, a middle aged, heavy set, dark complected woman, sat by herself. She didn't come with family. She didn't meet up with friends. She was by herself. I wondered what her story was. In a mega church like ours, I find that it happens that I might sit near or next to someone I don't really know. I was interested to know her. But I didn't.

When the service was over we left to go collect our toddler - the baby and our two older kids were with us for service. On our way back from getting the boy we were headed to a meeting after church and this woman walked up to us - the same woman from the row in front of us. Now the sheer odds in a church our size that we would be in the same hallway at the same time as this woman are pretty slim. But there she was.

The woman stopped us. She told us that she felt God telling her to pray for us, the baby, our children. The baby had caught her attention in worship and the Lord had pressed it upon her heart. She was trying to be faithful. We stopped, she prayed, we made some introductions, and we parted ways.

How did she know? Her prayer, so simple, yet so deep. She prayed for the baby. She prayed for us as parents. She prayed for our family. She asked for protection and for God's plan to be fulfilled for these children. And then she walked away.

Unsolicited. Overwhelming. Covered in prayer from a woman we didn't know - but she knew us. Somehow her prayer cut right to the heart of everything we were swimming in. An angel? I don't know. In the whirl, I can't remember if she ever told us her name. 

Facebook Fast

I am pretty sure my posts here indirectly correlate with my updates on Facebook. I am looking at my past posts and I see a dramatic drop when I joined Facebook. Unfortunately for me - and perhaps for the two of you who still read my blog, my one liner posts on FB are far less entertaining than the elaborate stories about life that I loved to post here. Currently I am in a self imposed Facebook fast. I found myself spending unnecessary hours logged on seeing what everyone else was up to instead of actually being up to anything myself. YIPES!

So, naturally, what I would do in the absence of FB is get back to blogger :) Purely for creative purposes, of course.

My Facebook post today would be: "It's a washing machine miracle!"  See? It's a one liner with no back story. So, what you couldn't know with just my Facebook update, is that we have been sans working washing machine for officially one whole month. I know. We are a family of 6 with babies and pets that make messes. This was a very serious matter.

What you couldn't know by my FB status is the seriousness of the stench coming from the Mount Everest of laundry forming in what was once Brian's photography studio. You couldn't know that after weeks of laundry building up, we have had to move said mountain to our room for a birthday party and then back to the studio because of the stench.

What you couldn't know with just an "update" is that both my older children have been wearing some seriously mismatched clothing as they get further and further to the bottom of their drawers. We have had more than one morning of tears due to the lack of clothes to wear. I am not above making my kid wear his shorts twice. Yes, that was my kid that was stinky. We tried to minimize the laundry done at Aunt Jenny's house to only the necessities.

Certainly, by just a few words in a FB status, you could not know that we have had a comedy of errors in trying to get our washer repaired. Once I had finally convinced Brian this was a big job, we needed to call a repairman, it took him several days to get one out to the house. The repairman came, saw, charged us, and told us to get a new machine. We got a refund. Then Brian decided he was a washing machine repairman and took it apart himself. After taking it apart and finding that the repairman was not exactly right in his quote, Brian decided to repair it himself. One tub broken by Brian, one tub broken by Fed Ex and one tub on back order later, it was a sit and wait kind of situation.

The part finally came, Brian finally had time to fix it. And right now, right at this very moment, there is a washing machine miracle taking place. The miracle is, that after one month of nasty, piling up laundry, we finally have a working washing machine!

Because our family is funnier...

There is a certain branch of my family that you can trace way back to a handful of '89ers. These '89ers must have been some seriously funny folk because the Heller/Stoner side of my family has that bent for hilarity. I am pretty sure we were born with a specific gene for a dominant funny bone. Individually we are fairly clever people, but get us together and your sides will split before the evening is over.

This weekend was no exception to the family rule. Several generations including second gen '89ers, my mom's generation, and my generation gathered for a cousin's wedding. Her wedding was intimate and exquisite all at once. She was stunning in her ivory gown with her red hair down her back. The ceremony was emotional and personal. The reception was 5 star with good wine flowing. All of these things would have made for a great time. But we Hellers have to twist things up and make them funny. It's what we do.

While discussing how to get to the reception with some of our family, a cousin offers the address portion of her Google Maps print out. Just as we are discussing putting the address into our GPS, my great-aunt (who was a riot before age fogged things up a little) chimes in with her observations. "Well, in our car the radio talks to us and tells us where to go. I keep telling them they better hurry up or she's going to leave us behind." And how do you not laugh out loud at that? The real kicker is when we are walking away, after getting her secured in the talking car, her son mentions, "You ought to see her talk back to the thing." I am laughing out loud right now with that image in my head.

After that they just kept on coming. This same aunt suggested to her granddaughter that she might date that nice looking man right over there - yup, a cousin. My sister and I had been making fun of each other all night suggesting that the other had done something just like our mother (no offense mom, but it was really funny). At the end of the evening my grandfather's cousin remarks on how much my sister looks like my mom. ZING! This particular cousin of my grandfathers is an absolute hoot. I think she spent more time on the dance floor than anyone else and don't ask me why she knew all the words to the hip hop songs. At another point an older wedding guest (not a member of our family, but a notable funny moment) was dancing with a single cousin significantly her junior. The dance was meant for married couples only and I am proud to say that Brian and I were among the last few couples up there based on years married. Someone told her that she was cheating by still dancing. To this she replies, "I'm not a cheater, I'm a cougar!" I die. I wet my pants and I die because this is funny stuff.

So, there were many other moments that had me rolling on the floor (besides the moment that we were actually on the floor looking for the great-aunt's hearing aid - those things are expensive after all), but it would take all night to recount. Literally every second was punctuated with laughter. At the end of the evening the Bride was saying her goodbyes to us and she mentioned that her new husband was so happy that her cousins came. Apparently he thinks we are a lot of fun. He's so in with the family now.

Chimpanzee Mating

We thought some further investigation was necessary with the recent talk of mating - specifically regarding Reba's Chimpanzee report. Reba informed us that mating is when two chimps get along really well. She says it's like dating. Jacob then chimes in with, "Then they go on a romantic honeymoon." What?!?

Yup, that's the conversation around our dinner table these days.

Sounds like a blog post in the making..

So many months have passed. So much parenting has occurred. But some things never change. My boy child has a propensity to say very funny one-liners and my girl child doesn't even know why we are laughing.

I called my youngest sister the other day to regale her with my boy's latest blurt when she replied, "Sounds like a blog post in the making." Uh, right. My blog. Sounds like I better dust this old sucker off and boot it up. I've missed you old blog. You are the keeper of my kids' funnies, my parent heartache, my blessings, my creativity, and my honesty. Blog, I have undervalued you. Won't happen again - for a while...

Here are the latest Miller kid funnies:

1)We were at a park for Reba's softball team party. Nearby the pavilion we had rented was a group of Crossfit types doing their thing. As we were leaving Jacob asked me if I had seen them. I replied, yes. He says, "Yeah, you should do that, Mom," in his most 8-year-old sarcastic tone. My 8-year-old told me I needed to work out! He's right, of course, but show your mom some respect, dude.

2)Reba is doing a report on Chimpanzees for school. This has been the source of a couple of funnies. First she told us that the other top reader in her class (Adam) was not even close to being done with his report. She, of course, has typed hers and is ready to present. She told me the other day, "Adam is just holding me back." We laughed pretty hard considering Adam has been in love with Reba since their Pre-K days. Her next announcement about her report came yesterday when she was going over what she would present. "I am NOT talking about mating - there would just be way too many questions that I am not prepared to answer." I died. I am pretty sure she has no idea what mating means.

OK, so maybe those are only funny to us. We are finding humor in the little things these days to keep our spirits up and our minds off of the impending changes. Our 3rd set of amazing foster babies are moving on this week after 5 months with us. We have another awesome story to tell that involves healing, growing, learning, and love. These two precious children will be going to their forever home this weekend if all goes as planned. We are blessed beyond words by their presence in our home. Their absence will leave a hole in our hearts (because they all take some of it when they leave) and some empty beds in our home. We pray for their new family and thank God that we got to be a part of their journey to them.

The Legacy of the Little White Car

In 2001, when Brian and I were just graduating college and getting married, with not a penny to our names, friends of ours did a hugely generous thing.  They gave us their little white car.  That was our first Honda Accord - our first car at all that belonged outright to us.  We drove that sweet little stick shift for 6 years and loved it.  When we moved to Texas, it stayed behind (a tuckered out A/C couldn't hack the TX heat), and we were forever grateful for the years it gave us. 

Then, less than a year later, the unimaginable happened.  Those same people gave us another little white car, their newer Honda Accord.  I kid you not, two Honda Accords, same people.  Generous beyond measure, these folks have been family to me since I was in high school.  I have been blessed many times over, not just because of the gifts of cars (among other things), but because of my relationship with them.  Go on, you can be jealous that I have friends like this.  Everyone wishes that they had friends like this.  I have learned to knit, quilt, parent, love, accept, cherish, organize, think outside the box, and be generous, many thanks to these people. 

Recently it came time in our family to increase our number of seat belts.  Since we have had 4 children consistently for almost a year now, we decided it was time to increase capacity.  We bought a Honda Odyssey, capacity for 8, and suddenly we had an extra car.  What to do, what to do? 

In the spirit of our good friends' generosity, we could not simply sell this vehicle.  That would not do.  It was very clear that the car needed to go to someone that would benefit from the gift as much as we had.  It sat in our driveway for a month or so as we looked for who to give it to.  Who would be our Sarah and Brian?  Then last week, the answer was as clear as day.  My cousin and his wife, still considered newlyweds, moved to our area on just a wing and a prayer.  He landed a job with a local fire department and she is still looking for a school district with openings for an elementary teacher.  A car would make a BIG difference for them.  A little white car, in particular, would really fit the bill.

So the Legacy of the Little White Car lives on.  We are grateful for the miles it gave us.  It has served us well.  Thank you, friends, who were so generous to us, you have given us the gift of passing along that generosity.  Being able to give the car to someone, just as you had given it to us, has blessed us twice over.  Let me assure you, the new owners of the little white car are just as grateful.  Look what you have started...

Good Story

One day in April my sister, Jenny was going out of town - I don't even remember why, but probably for business 'cause she's all important like that, and she asked me to take her dog to the kennel for her.  I said, "No prob," which I had said before and forgotten completely about, but this time I meant it. I was up bright and early on the Saturday following Easter weekend.  I got my girls up, Reba and our two current foster daughters, dressed them all cute in their matchy outfits they had all gotten for Easter, and headed out in the still cool morning of April 10th.  Reba always likes to go along when we take the dogs in to the kennel and I figured that the little girls would love the kennel and the endless supply of affectionate dogs.  What possessed me, all before eight on a Saturday morning?

We arrived at the kennel where I saw the owner, Jana, sitting at her desk in the back office.  I know Jana.  We have had our dogs boarded here before.  I have met her sister and her parents and they are all adorable.  My sister, Jenny, and I could talk with them for hours swapping animal rescue stories of our youth (ahem, and our adulthood).  I wave at Jana, because I don't even know why, and motion for her to come out and meet my girls.  She's slightly confused because she can't see Reba, and I am holding the 2-year-old, and how did my kid shrink?  So she comes out.  We talk briefly about fostering, and the girls, and she asks some very benign question,s and we leave.  And if nothing more ever came from that I would not have been surprised at all.  But something more came - something I couldn't have even known to hope for or imagine.

Jana called me the next day.  My sister's dog was fine.  Good, because I was the emergency contact.  Whew!  But she had some questions about the girls. Jana and her husband were interested in how they might have a shot at adopting them.  It's a long shot, I said, hoping it wasn't, but knowing the improbability.  I gave her all the info.  She was at the agency the next morning, and within 3 days of meeting the girls she and her husband, Dave, were taking classes to become licensed foster to adopt parents.  Wow.  They might be the only people that have finished their classes and licensing faster than Brian and I.  They were able to very quickly provide us with babysitting and take the girls for overnight visits.  What a Godsend - literally.

This next part is awesome.  Today, June 2, we were in court regarding the girls.  The judge, the girls lawyer, the CASA volunteers, and the CPS caseworker all agreed that the children would be placed with our friends, Jana and Dave, with everything looking like they will ultimately get to adopt them.  For reals!  At the end the judge asked how Jana and Dave came to know the girls.  "It's a good story," CPS said.  I have to say, it definitely is.

Thanks, Mom

Mother's Day already?  How does this sneak up on me every year?  Last year I posted on my fantastic Grandma Lu and earlier this year I posted on my dear Grandma Bette, but I haven't regaled you yet about my amazing Mom, Marie.

Now, if you are the mother of a daughter that looks just like you, and occasionally thinks just like you, and more times than is normal and despite thousands of miles can even feel your feelings, you might understand my relationship with my mom.  I looked in the mirror just this morning and saw Mom looking right back at me.  Whew, that was weird.  Oh, but how grateful I am to have such an awesome mom.

Thank you, Mom, for teaching me the value of children and especially how to love the ornery ones.  You had a little plaque that sat in that little niche by the phone (or where the phone used to be back when they had cords and tape recorded answering machines).  I don't remember what exactly it said, only that the gist was that children were 100% of our future.  That is how you live out every day.  You are a visionary, seeing the possibility in every child.  Countless children trace back their success to you, the teacher or principal that they had years and years ago.  I was privileged to be your student but even more so to be your daughter.

Thank you, Mom, for teaching me love - that friendships and relationships will sometimes end and often hurt, but that not to love in the first place is the real loss.  You comforted me through the drama and chaos of middle school, high school, eesh - college (that was a biggie), and then again in motherhood when the greatest thing I would do would be to love and let go.  Thank you for knowing the heartache even when my words couldn't express it.

Thank you, Mom, for being the example of an educated woman.  I believe it is a testament to you that your three daughters are pursuing Master's Degrees.  Education, we learned, equals empowerment.  And, well, we are all kinda brilliant and certainly very strong women.  Just saying...

Thank you, Mom, for being there every Sunday, teaching us the Word and showing it to us daily by your actions.  My faith is strong because my foundation was sure.  I appreciate the years of your life you spent sharing Christ's love with children.  I appreciate even more the way you lived to show Christ's love to everyone from every background, color, and creed.  I believe when all is said and done, He will say, "Well done, my good and faithful servant."

Thank you, Mom, for being that slacker mom that didn't do all my laundry (that little cherry chap-stick issue really sealed the deal on that one), didn't make my lunches, let me make dinner when I was in middle school (if you can call sloppy joe Boboli pizza, dinner), let me fail a thousand times, so that I would learn.  I love that you gave me that book when I grew up and you realized that I was totally a slacker mom and struggling with my own identity as a woman and a mother and feeling like I might be totally screwing up my kids. But you didn't judge.  Oh, thank God it is okay to be a slacker mom.

Thank you, Mom, for all the laughs you provide when you allow us to use you for comic relief (okay you can dish it out too).  I will never forget when you told me that if I didn't like the teasing I needed to find another family.  My 15-year-old self would never have dreamed in a million years I would ever say that to my kid.  But guess what?  I did.  Also, remember that you wanted us to tell you when you get old and we make fun of you?  Though you are definitely not old, I am just saying, be advised, it's happening.

There are many many more things, but really, we could be here all night.  So, finally I would like to say thank you, Mom, for showing me how to hold my head high through the tough things in life.  You have not failed me, you have only strengthened me.  Happy Mother's Day, I love you.

For the love of baseball...

Believing

We are believing around here for something big.  I believe that each child that comes through our house, be it through birth, friendship, or the foster care system, has a plan from above for good and not for evil.  Specifically I believe that the foster children that come through our home will have only positive outcomes and that the courts and CPS will work only to their best benefit. 

As you might remember, our last set of kids went on to be placed with their forever family.  The sequence of events that led these children to their forever family are too perfect for coincidence and too great for a mere human to have orchestrated.  We like to believe that we were chosen to be part of their plan.   These children are now lovingly matched with the parents that did not birth them from their womb but truly birthed them from their hearts.  We were honored to have been privy to that miracle. 

We feel that same powerful force moving in our current children's lives.  I prayed when we first got them, for His grace to cover them, and for their forever family to come along.  We had the children for approximately 11 days when they met their hopeful forever family.  It was a meeting too coincidental to be coincidental and there was an overwhelming sense by the hopeful mother that these were her children.  This couple will complete their licensing in record time and now have a developing relationship with our kids (logging many babysitting hours - willingly!). I hope that you, my dear friends and family, will join me in praying that these wonderful people will soon be our girls' forever parents.  Oh, if you knew them, you would love them too! (For all you dog people - I know there are many of you, these folks are our friends that own the only dog kennel/doggy daycare that we would ever trust with our four legged family.)

Could it be three weeks already?

Sheesh, where does the time go?  I am not sure how three weeks passed so quickly.  I do know that we have been in an upheaval mode since my last post.

Three weeks ago today we knew for sure that our precious S & I would be going to their forever family on March 15.  That week we spent doing a whirlwind of preparation.  For a couple of kids that came with next to nothing in clothes and one ball for toys, we had to take two car loads of stuff over - and then we still found stuff that they left here.  We did therapy, we did many hours of phone preparation with the new family, we did lots of fear calming and behavior dealing with.  Seems once S sensed there was a change in the air she was all out of sorts and we saw some behavior regression right before she left.  One night that week all four kids were crying for different reasons - the two oldest were crying because the two little crying ones would be leaving.  We realized that night how hard this was going to be for all our kids.

When all was said and done our two little ones were placed with their forever home on Friday the 12th and after a tearful "see you later" (because it's not goodbye forever), Brian and I decided that it was a must for us to get out of town and fast.  We had loosely been toying with the idea that we really needed to see our grandparents (as in our children's great grandparents) and by late Friday night I had clothes packed and a plan in place to drive to CA.  The kids had no idea, our CA family had no idea, and we were giddy with anticipation.  Jacob had a baseball game Saturday morning and while the kids and Brian were at the ball game I finished packing and loaded the car.  My sister came over after the game and took our lab "puppy" under the rouse that we were picnicking with the other two dogs and it might be late when we got back.  The kids didn't question the suitcases in the back of the car and assumed the ice chest was for our picnic.  About an hour into our drive we admitted we would be going a little further than the lake for our picnic.  Reba was ecstatic, Jacob was beside himself - we had not let him mentally prepare.  Our family still didn't know.

24 hours later we were cutting off Brian's dad as he was driving down his street.  He didn't look too happy until he realized it was us - which took a minute because what the heck were we doing in CA? We spent the rest of the week surprising the great-grandparents.We got to spend a day with each of our grandparents.  It was a special treat.  We even were able to be there right over my mom's birthday and she got a great shock when Jacob and Reba showed up in her office the morning of her birthday.  CA was a wonderful trip and the perfect medicine for a couple of kids (and parents) missing their foster kids.

This week has been spent just trying to get back to normal.  We have been playing baseball, softball, we have been working, cleaning house, and noticing how dreadfully quiet it is around here.  The last two weeks with only our two kids gave us just enough time to realize how big our kids have gotten.  It helped us appreciate how darn funny Jacob is and how sweet and responsible Reba is.  This time has been just enough that when we got the call two nights ago for two more kids we said YES almost immediately. 

So, now our adventure begins again.  Two more kids, a 9 month-old and a 2 year-old, and the second go round has been just as fun as the first.  We are thrilled to have babies in our house once again.  The two older kids are thoroughly enjoying their big brother/sister rolls and Mommy and Daddy are remembering (after a nice long vacation) what sleep deprivation feels like. 

The Best and Hardest Day as a Foster Parent

I have the most amazing foster children.  Along with my biological children, they are the reason I believe I was put on this earth.  They came to us broken, abused, and neglected.  They will be leaving us whole. 

"S", though sometimes a typical 3-year-old, challenging her parents and talking back, is a joy.  When she came to us, she was a foul mouthed kid with no boundaries and teeth rotting out of her head.  Today she is bright and energetic.  She learned how to use a computer and PBSkids.org is her favorite website.  She loves puzzles and can complete them on her own.  She is inquisitive.  Her favorite thing in the entire world is to be read to.  She is empathetic.  She has a knack for complimenting.  And I love her.  From September 15 until March 15, I am her mommy.  It has been an honor.

"I" came to us as a baby with a blank stare.  He rarely laughed and barely ever made a noise - good or bad.  He had not spoken his first word.  He could crawl, but at 30 pounds and almost 1, he could not walk.  Today he is a child of many expressions.  His laugh is contagious.  He says "Momma, Daddy, uh oh," and most importantly, "Dog."  He runs, chasing all of us around the big circle in the house.  He is incredibly smart and likes to carry around a stool to reach all of those forbidden places.  He can point to his shoes, his head, his nose, his ears, and his mouth.  His best friend is a 60 pound yellow lab.  His eyes light up when you walk in the room.  And I love him.  From September 15 until March 15, I am his mommy.  It has been an honor.

Today we learned that they will move on to a wonderful family.  It is what we had hoped and prayed for.  We are blessed to have their new parents as friends - or something closer (it's an unexplainable relationship).  Once I talked to this family about the possibility of being our kids' forever home, I knew with certainty that everything would be okay.  God had a hand in this from the beginning.  We were meant to be "S&I's" foster parents just as they were meant to be their forever parents.  I wanted these children forever. I begged God and Brian and they both said, "No."  I was crushed and despondent then, but of course, this was the plan all along. 

Brian and I will continue to foster.  It is our mission.  This is what we were supposed to do.  We see that more clearly now than ever.  However, I will never stop loving these first two.  They hold a special place in my heart.  So today, as we learned "officially" that our kids would be moving on, it has been absolutely the best and the hardest day as a foster parent.

Here's the thing about Second Graders

They are so gosh darn funny.  I had the privilege of being home yesterday as my big kids came home from school (not typical for this working mama).  The way they come in the door is so indicative of their personalities.  Reba comes home, neatly hangs up her backpack, promptly takes out her lunch box and deposits it in the proper place, and immediately takes out her folder which no doubt contains some piece of pressing news that she will not forget to tell us.  So. Reba.  Jacob comes home, I swear, tires on the scooter squealing, top speed straight into the house, scooter likely dropped at the door, running like a banshee, shedding backpack in the middle of the floor right outside of the bathroom, which he enters with his helmet still on.  I laughed out loud as I realized what kind of scene every afternoon must be for their father.  They both, apparently, do this every afternoon. 

This evening Brian and I were chuckling about it to ourselves in the front seat on our way out to dinner (a rare treat but we needed to get out of the house since one of our little one's has been sick and is finally feeling a bit better).  Jacob, chiming in from the back, yells, "What? I can't take any chances!"  That darn kid is hysterical.  The vision of him sitting on the pot with his bike helmet on has me doubled over laughing all over again. 

Jacob, you may not have a baby book, but at least your mama has a blog so she can write all these fabulously embarrassing things down for posterity.  I am pretty sure you will thank me someday.  You're welcome, son.