Fast and Pray Tomorrow

Yes, I said fast...




There's this whole community of adoptive parents blogging out there that I had no idea about when we started this process of adoption. It's really quite amazing to have been drawn in and become a part of it. One of the blogs that I frequent A Place Called Simplicity is written by an amazing woman, Linny. I love that she is so very open with her life and has allowed so many of us to be inspired by her and her family. Anyway, if you haven't already, you should go check it out for yourself.

Linny has asked us in that blogging community to link arms spiritually tomorrow, Sept. 8th. I will be joining them. We will be coming together (in our own homes--but wouldn't it be great if we all could come physically together too?) to fast and pray for the orphans. There are many who have linked to her post with specific prayer requests and I am adding our adoption prayer requests to that list. Some have financial needs, some have paperwork problems, some have been in country trying to get courts settled and come home with their kids for entirely too long. Some have prayer requests for a particular orphanage that is in a bad way and some just ask for prayers for the orphans in a certain country that is having difficulties with the process. Satan has a way of attacking those that are following God's will and changing lives for His glory. Please join us tomorrow. Check out her blog for the specific requests.

Here are mine:
1. There is a sibling group of five (yes, five!) that I have felt inexplicably drawn to. I don't know if they are meant to be ours or if I'm just meant to pray for them, but please pray that God shows them a family. I have been praying for them since last winter. They are very heavy on my heart.
2. Pray for DH's peace with this adoption. He is all for adoption but as the provider for our household, he has some concerns. You see, in the past, we have made some very poor decisions financially and we are still paying for them. We are working with gazelle intensity (I'm sure some of you know what that means :) ) and God has truly, truly blessed our change of hearts and commitment to right this situation. Like I said, we are still working on it and DH wants to make sure that we have all our ducks in a row before he has more mouths to feed. Pray for him to have a peace over our adoption and that he will know that God is so much bigger than our problems. Let me reiterate, he is in favor of the adoption, I think it's just hard on him... as the head of the household.
3. Please pray for our financial situation. We are doing really well so far and the Lord has provided every time we need something but as we are just now working on the home study, we have a long road ahead of us. We are fundraising, having a yard sale, and selling everything that isn't stapled down. Please pray that God continues to provide for us and that Satan does not send my truck to the shop anymore. (been there three times in the last week.)

I truly hope that you would go and check out Linny's blog and pray for the others who are requesting it. Please join us in the fast tomorrow. I'm doing it, and tomorrow is our 10th wedding anniversary. Isn't it funny how that worked out. When you get married, you look down the road and think about your 10th. It seems so far away, and you think it will be an amazing day--in the way that's all about you. Here I am, the time has flown by and I KNOW it will be an amazing day--but not at all about me.

Kids and Weeds

I've always heard the phrase, "My (your, his, her) kids are growing like weeds." I never really thought about it too much other than the usual, "Yeah, it seems they grow up so fast." Well, they do. They really grow up fast and you don't have nearly the time with them that you thought you might have.

Anyway, I have been thinking about that phrase a lot in the past week. You see, with DH overseas since mid-May, and all three boys participated on swim team this year in addition to all our usual stuff, well, the weeds have kinda taken over. I knew that I would not have time to tend to a vegetable garden like we usually do, so we just didn't plant one. There are weeds there. Like a jungle of weeds. Taller than me. It's the same in the flower beds that surround 1/2 the house. Weeds choking out all my beautiful plants and bushes. And, I'm ashamed to say, weeds choking out the playground equipment. We have one of those nice cedar playgrounds (we went all out expecting to have lots of kids ourselves and lots of kid's friends playing on it). We put it in when we moved in four years ago and put down freshly chipped mulch. Well, in four years, the mulch has composted beautifully into this dark rich soil with tons of nutrients for growing... weeds. To be fair, I did pull weeds for two hours one day in June so the boys could play out there. However, they came right back. And I didn't pull them... and they grew... and they spread.

So a week ago last Saturday, DH, my 3 sons and I go out to pull weeds. The boys all did really, REALLY, well with weed pulling. They took swing breaks starting when we finally had the swings free but they only ever stopped for 5 or 10 minutes at a time. DH and I worked almost non-stop. It was rough. It took almost 5 hours. When we were finished, we could hardly stand upright having been bent over for so long. Anyway, to give you an idea... we let the weed piles set out for several days to dry up some before we bagged them. On Thursday (still sore from pulling weeds, mind you) the boys and I went outside to bag them. Six HUGE garden and lawn trash bags later... we had all the weeds from the flower beds. We didn't even touch the weed piles from the playground yet. And might I say, I had anticipated the hard work and the being tired afterwards. I even anticipated being sore. But I had no idea just how sore I was going to be. The back of my left leg was in constant aching pain for almost a full week. It hurt every time I moved and whenever I was sitting still... even laying down. It affected every part of every activity, of every day. I couldn't believe how sore I was (DH was too). I mean, serious pain. I was more surprised than anything about how badly I hurt.

So I've been thinking about that phrase, "kids growing like weeds." I've often heard it said, "Put a lot of time in with them when they are younger and it will go a little easier when they are older." Like weeds. Pull a few little ones here and there when they spring up and you won't have to kill yourself to get it weeded later. Work with your kids consistently, correct what needs correcting and strengthen their good traits. I realize this was a long post for such a short point. But it rings true. One more point: I got to thinking about this analogy and what really hit home for me is how much I hurt, and for how long... How much do families hurt when they try to clean up the mess of an undisciplined son or daughter? And I don't mean spanking... I mean discipleship. Raising and training. How long does the pain of a broken family last? How does it affect every aspect of their days? These thoughts have been swirling around all week. I'm just glad I learned this lesson with weeds and not with my kids.

MBM-A Night at the Airport

So, I've been wanting to start doing a Memorial Box Monday post for quite some time. A bloggy friend of mine over at A Place Called Simplicity does them every Monday. The idea is based on the memorial that the Israelites set up after they crossed the Jordan River into the promised land. Something visual, something tangible to help me remember all the wonderful times that God has provided for me, protected me, and shown me the way in my life. I have to actually find/make a box to keep all the little reminders in. But for now, I think I'm going to put them on top of our movie shelf so they'll be where I can see them. If you want to read more about MBM please go to Linny's page. She came up with it and she explains it so much better than I could.

Anyway, on with the story...

Way back when DH and I were newlyweds (we are coming up on our 10th very, very soon), back before the events of airport extremists... you could still walk all the way out to the gates when someone was leaving on a flight. I hated when he had to go away for work, I still do. So we decided that I would take him to the airport and park, go with him to check in and we'd have something for dinner out by his gate while we waited for his plane to take off. As luck would have it, there was parking in the lot immediately in front of the airport and I didn't have to park in a garage or long term parking. We went in and had a leisurely dinner at the gate and enjoyed the last few minutes that we would have together for a week. He got on his plane and left. Of course, I had to watch the plane taxi out and wait until the plane that I thought was his (cause you really can't keep track of the planes at this airport) take off. I then proceeded to make my way through the airport to go back to my lonely home.

Now, you should know, I was raised in a safe small town by an overprotective paranoid mother who loved us dearly. She was always on the lookout for the boogey man. I however have chosen to not be paranoid, but also not to throw caution to the wind. When I leave to go to the parking lot, I have my keys in my hands before I exit the building, I'm aware of my surroundings, when I get in my car I lock the door first thing of all, I pay attention to whoever might be around me when I'm at the ATM. Cautious, aware, alert, not stupid, but also not paranoid. I don't expect something bad to happen, but I want to try and prevent it if I have the opportunity and be prepare in case I cannot prevent it.

I remember when I was in Junior High, my mom took me to this self-defense seminar. It was a one day thing done by a former police woman. It was very interesting and I wish I could remember more of it... if I had been a little older, maybe I would have. Anyway, she when through the different types of perps, how to recognize them, and how to increase your odds of survival with each one. I remember the petty thief, you best odds are to give him all you got and let him run. You will survive in most cases. There were a lot more in between but then the worst case scenario is the psychopath. Chances are, you aren't getting away alive and you gotta fight from the very beginning. In all cases, do NOT ever allow anyone to take you to another location. Your odds of survival decrease significantly if you have a secondary crime scene, not to mention how bad it will be before you die. You can say, "Kill me here or leave me alone, but I ain't going with you." Another thing that really stuck with me was prevention. If you think someone is following you, turn around and look them in the eye. Convince them that you are confident and not an easy target. Talk to them in a confident voice and chances are, they will not see you as the easy, weak victim that they are looking for. Anyway, I guess I remembered more than I thought. I'd still like to know the other types of predators that I can't remember now and how to deal with them.

So there's your self defense lesson for the day, now back to the airport...

As I was getting ready to exit the building, I got my keys out to have ready. I didn't want to be digging through my purse to find them and not paying attention to my surroundings as I walked out alone. I paused as I crossed the taxi lane and then across the the lot where my car was. It was now about 10:00 at night and I realized that I had never been there before in the dark. I also remember thinking to myself, "It's really dark in this lot. They really ought to do something about that." Then I thought, "There could be someone hiding in between any of these parked cars, jump out at someone as they pass by and drag them back into the darkness before they could make a peep." Now, mind you, I never had thoughts like that. I have always been cautious, but never really expected anything to happen. As that thought crossed my mind, I decided to walk straight down the middle of the driving area rather than close to one side or the other. You know, give me time to see it coming. It's weird but I was so hyper aware and super vigilant.

Sure enough, just as I passed a van, a man came out from the dark space beside it. He was to my left and I knew I had a good ways to go before I got to my car. I continued walking for a few paces. I sensed he was following me. If that was the case, he was up to no good b/c the airport was in the other direction. I somehow got up the courage to turn around and look. There he was. I looked him dead in the eyes. I couldn't talk so I just tried to look confident and continue on. I was closing the gap between me and my car and how I wished for keyless entry. I was trying to figure out what to do when I got there. As I reached the driver's door, I was shocked to see that he had really closed the distance between us and was now at my trunk. (My car was a Honda Civic so he was REALLY close.) I knew, KNEW, that I didn't have time to get the door unlocked, get in, and lock the door behind me. This was it, it was now or never. I drudged up the deepest, loudest, most confident voice I could muster and said, "Is there something I can help you with?" It actually sounded almost irritated as it came out. As in, "You're in my space, dude. Either tell me how to help you or get out of my face." It was interesting. In a split second, I watched him go from being aggressive to being defensive. Evidently, that was not what he was expecting and it threw him off enough to make him reconsider his plans. I was not going down easy and now he knew it. He went all weird like he didn't know what to do and said, "Umm... no. I mean... I... uh... no... no..." Then he just turned and walked away. I watched to make sure that he kept going and as soon as he was far enough, I got in my car, locked the door and pulled out of the lot like nobody's business. Obviously, I was very shaken as I approached the toll booth, but then I got really angry. I turned the car around and went back looking for him. I wanted to know where he was so I could tell the toll booth person to go get him. I was soooo mad.

In hindsight, I cannot believe the details that went into keeping me safe that night. My paranoid mother, the self-defense class, the safe-keeping habits that I already had, the eerie (and most unusual for me) thoughts and feelings that I had as I entered the lot, the booming voice that came out of me but I couldn't have mustered on my own. Truly, God protected me that night. It wasn't until I got home that it really affected me. I started thinking about all the things that 'could have happened.' I was really shook up. It's funny, though. I still go into dark parking lots at night, when I need to. I still don't expect bad things to happen. I'd like to think it's because I trust God in whatever happens.

So, I'm going to have to find an old car key to put in my box. To remind me that God is my Protector.

The Trouble with Underwear

Not mine. Let's just be clear. It's not my underwear that's the problem.

It's just that it's laundry day... tomorrow is laundry day, too, for that matter. I really don't mind doing laundry as much as I used to, which is surprising when you consider that I have WAY more laundry to do now than when I minded it so much. Just another instance of kids putting things in the proper prespective. The only thing that I really dislike about doing the laundry is folding the dreaded load of socks and underwear. It really annoys me. And in one load, there could be a million socks to be matched and half a million pairs of underwear. At least it seems that way. That's why I managed to rationalize that I have too many things going on with DH gone, I just didn't have time to do it when I did the laundry last time. So now I had a load and a half (because we'd been rooting through the basket looking for underwear) to fold this time. UGH.

The real issue is that I've got three boys, two of which wear the same size. Now, it's all been relatively easy up till now. One of them has always been a tighty-whitey guy, one prefers boxer briefs, and one still wears character underwear. One likes the gray bottom athletic socks, one likes character socks (not the same one that likes the character underwear), and one likes solid colors to match his clothes. Easy enough, once you get the hang of it. However, all of a sudden, the lines between tastes and preferences are getting blurry. Character sock man thinks that maybe he's getting too big for spiderman and should wear gray bottom athletic socks like brother. Whitey-tighty (or is it tighty-whitey?) guy thinks that boxer brief guy seems really comfortable in his britches and maybe he'll give boxer briefs a try. So now, not only is it tedious to match socks and get all the underwear right side out, but I'm going to have to take notes or make a list or something to remember whose socks are whose.

So here's the thing. How do families with more than three kids handle this issue? And how will I handle it when I have even more kids? I remember seeing an episode with the Duggers saying that all the boys wear black socks and all the girls wear white. I get it. But how do you distinguish sizes and which socks are whose? Does everyone just grab a clean pair and go? And sock sharing may all be fine and dandy, but who really wants to do that with underwear, clean or not? Maybe I should just give them all a color to stick with. You always wear green socks and underwear, you always wear blue, and you red. Forget about whether or not their socks clash with their clothes. Don't worry if you can see their colored undies through their khaki dress pants in church on Sunday. Really?

Or maybe this... just have the boys find, sort and fold their own socks and underwear?

Sounds good to me.

You Can't Fool Me...

I know what's really going on here.

So as some of you know, we've had a run of bad luck here. From the time that DH left to go overseas, we have had more than our share of injuries and sickness with the children:

Four staples in the head.

Chipped front tooth.

Injured ankle-first thought was a sprain, then x-rays, then ended up at the pediatric orthopaedist, then walked out before even seeing the doctor.

Now in the midst of my mom's total knee replacement (she live with us), they all have a bad bacterial infection. VERY. BAD. Not to mention that it took over three full days for the pediatrician's office to get back to us that it is, in fact, bacterial and they are calling in an antibiotic for DS1. That's three full days of temps running above 102 degrees (four if you count the day prior to seeing the doctor). Well the other two are sick now too and they can't see them till tomorrow or Monday so they have to wait on antibiotic. Ugh.

So between going to urgent care, radiology, and different doctors offices, we've had nary a dull moment without an appointment to be at. It's more trips to the Dr. than we went to in all the previous three years together.

"What's this all about?" you ask.

I think it's about fighting God's war. I've heard other people talk about this but never experienced it myself. That's probably because prior to the past few years of my life, I haven't really been a soldier in God's army. I believed. I was baptized. But it's only relatively recently that I've stepped up to to the plate, really started following God's word and living God's will. I've started getting more involved in the children's program at church. DH and I have taken charge of our finances, after all, how can we have the means to do the Lord's work if we have debt? We also stepped up to be group leaders at our church. Now this whole adoption calling. Not that I think we are doing anything extraordinary, but we are doing the best we can to get to where we believe God wants us to be.

It seems that once you make a big decision to follow God, that the enemy starts to take you seriously, and if at all possible, discourage you. That's what's going on here. Sat*n knows DH is gone. He knows that we are planning this adoption of several kids. He knows that the thought of half a dozen kids can be daunting. He has decided to play on that seed of doubt. He's trying to make me doubt whether I can handle that many kids, whether this is all a mistake. For a little while, it seemed like it was starting to work. But now, at the end of the ninth week, I feel empowered. Nine weeks of one pain in the bazooka after another. Sure it could have been worse, there's a lot more that could have happened. But I feel really good about being able to deal with what was dished out. So there you have it. Strengthened. Refined by fire. I'm sure there's more fire, more refining necessary. But still, I'm in a good place for 63 days without my husband.

Oh, and I found out, those girls weren't actually matched with a family. Their file was sent to another adoption agency. This time they're listed as one sibling group, not two. What do I make of that? I don't know, I'll get back to you. But I will add them back on my prayer list.

The Beginning of the End

So it seems to me that the last two weeks before he comes home are amazingly like the first two weeks after he's left. I'm exhausted, the boys have been sick, I should be in bed, or at least cleaning the kitchen. Yet, here I am, 2:00 in the morning, and I'm up. It's gone back to being really, really hard to go to bed without him. At least the end is in sight. He will be home soon. The guys that are to relieve him and his buddy arrived today. So it's just training them to take over and making travel arrangements. I'm so excited.

I cannot wait to see him. I cannot wait until this trip is over. I cannot wait until we can get back into our regular routine. I'm so excited to have him home, to be able to have a conversation without a timer. It'll be nice to not be tied to the phone all the time, waiting, hoping. I am so looking forward to sleeping on my own side of the bed. I'm really looking forward to getting started on this adoption.

I'm getting antsy. I just want him home. Soon. Very soon.

Ups and Downs

I went to the Homeschooling Conference this weekend. It was FABULOUS! I love it there. To be surrounded by so many other like minded people is just so refreshing. That's hard to come by, these days. I know my friends love me but I think most of them think we're just crazy... crazy for homeschooling, crazy for milling wheat and making our own bread, crazy for making our own laundry detergent, crazy for co-sleeping, baby-wearing, extended nursing. They love me, but I'm not sure they get me. Sometimes it's nice to be around people that not only get it, but they agree. Anyway, some of the workshops were amazing. I went to this one about dealing with your strong-willed child. Well, the first thing she starts in with is a 12 question test to determine if you (not your child) are stong-willed. Now, I know that this may come as a shock to you but it turns out that... well... I'm strong-willed. Go figure. So anyway, it explains a lot about why DS3 and I have been going to the trenches so much lately. Will work on that.

Anyway, the conference was wonderful. I'm so happy I went. The only downside was the reminder that it was supposed to be DH and I's first overnighter without kids... ever. Yep, that's right. In 8 1/2 years, we have never both been away from the kids overnight. Well it happened this weekend. The only bummer was that we didn't go away together. Big bummer. There were so many times that I thought, "Man, I wish he was here to hear that." I miss him. He's my bestest friend.

I also found out today, and I thought I'd let you all know. Those girls that I had been praying for were matched with a family. It's a little bittersweet. I thought they were meant for us. I'm so very happy that they are going home. I'm so very happy that they don't have to wait any longer. All in God's timing. He knows which children are ours and He will see to it that we get them. It's all good.