What was I thinking???

For years I heard about this crazy Elf on the Shelf. Mostly it was in the Georgia schools. The elf messed up the classrooms and the kids had to put things back into order. I never thought about having one for our home. Some of my friends did and their elf did naughty things. Why would I want one of those? Well, this year I totally caved in a momen of weakness. We now have Jack Frost at our house. But he is boring! While others take pictures of their elf in flour on the counter, painting noses, shaving cream everywhere, fishing or getting into glitter and feathers, our elf simply pops up from place to place. And honestly, I find it a total pain in the butt. I cannot tell you the nights I have bolted from the bed in the wee hours of the morning to slam Jack Frost into a different location before my sweet 5 year old comes down the stairs. One day I totally forgot to move him but was able to use the excuse that he was in love with the girl statues he was sitting next to. The next day, Kadin had to distract Liam as I thrust Jack into a candle holder. He couldn't hang out with the girls for THREE days, that would have been suspicious! Why did I cave? I only have one child that believes in Santa at this point. I could have held out and been less stressed at Christmas. I cannot wait for this elf to LEAVE! So, if you do not have one of those creepy elves with no feet, no hands, and a creepy smile that reminds you of Chucky, stear clear at the after Christmas sale and DO NOT GIVE IN!!!!!

The road rises to meet you

Do you ever sit back and reflect on the road that God has placed you on? Or just look at where you started and see where you sit today? I know I should probably use my brain cells on concentrating on how to make money for my family, better meals, a cleaner house, outreach programs, feed the poor...ect, instead of selfishly always reflecting on my own life and those around me. Guess I'm just self centered that way. ;)

I grew up in a small foundry town. Along the Ohio River where there were no shopping malls, not a lot chain restaurants. There was a church on each corner, and a bar on the opposite one. No one wore name brand clothes, carried expensive purses, or worried about the size of the diamond on their finger. Simply because many didn't even have one.

We were tillers of the land. Workers in dirty, hot jobs. We played over acreage of land with no worries. We drove 20 minutes to the nearest grocery store where we could buy things on credit. We went to 4H meetings and the fair in the summer. Everyone knew everything about everybody, so they thought. Many would never leave that small town. Some did and returned. Others left and seldom go back. I'm one of the later.

I went to college. I went to graduate school. I went back home and worked in our local mental health facility. I dated local guys. Egads, I was boring. I never broke out of the box. Although I was never a conformist (my friends can attest to that!), I still did not eat food I did not recognize. I sought everyone's opinion before I bought a car or rented a place. I still went home and did my laundry. I never stretched my wings, although I ached to do so.

In 1996 I moved to NC. It felt like half way across the world. To a new town where I only knew one person, Dave. I got a new job. Went to a new church. Made new friends. And realized no one knew my past. No one knew what I was like as a child. No one knew what mistakes I had made, or what wonderful things I had accomplished. I could be any part of my life story I wanted to be! I could cloak myself in the successes and ditch the bad parts and no one would be the wiser. What a freeing world! I tried new foods. I shopped in different places. I got in my car alone for 8 plus hour car trips and I was unafraid. I took new roads (without a GPS or a car phone mind you!) and explored. I swam further out into the ocean. I walked more. I listened more. I became, more.

When I think of that young girl who cried as her parents pulled away with the uhaul and compare her to the woman I am now, I don't recognize her much. Yes, innately, I'm the same. I stand up for the underdog. I love deeply. I wear my emotions on my sleeve. My life is an open book no matter how uncomfortable that makes others, or at times, myself. But as I have aged, my life has become more, well, my own.

Dave and I now make decisions together. We don't always ask for outside opinions. We discuss it and move forward. We have moved several times with the weight of each move purely on my shoulders. We have had children without consulting others. We bought a dog and asked everyone if we should. We got a new cat on a whim. We agonize over what tv stand we want in the living room, but jump into adoption with our eyes wide open and our feet firmly on the ground. There is no rhyme or reason, but we do it together.

Once I was a young girl from a small town who needed other people to accept me. I needed to exceed and succeed. I needed to prove something to others. Now, I'm a grown woman who lives in a small town by choice. Because I love it. I love seeing things change, truly knowing my neighbor (love you Meg!), and having those same small town eyes watching my sons play in the neighborhood that I now know watched me when I was small.

Where did you start? Are you still the same, or has life made you different? Are there lifelong dreams you wish you had reached for and ultimately grasped? Are there things left in your bucket list? Have you always wanted to run a marathon? Sing in front of millions? Write a poem? Help the helpless? Hold an orphaned child? Offer comfort to people that live across the ocean from you? What is stopping you from doing those things? Look closely, the only wall in the way, is yourself. Share with me, what are your things left undone???

So Hard

So the home study is complete. Our paper portfolio has gone out one time. Now we wait. This is the part I do not like. How to get through this part of waiting. It reminds me of being a young child lined up to be chosen for a team in gym class. I wasn't the best, but I wasn't the worst, just in the middle...waiting. Which team would pick me? Would I get picked or would the teacher have to place me? The anxiety in the pit of my stomach would grow and grow. For what? Gym class?!?!

Now it's something more serious. Life altering. Forever. Now I wait for a daughter. Who will come with another mother and a slew of relatives. Some people look at me like I have two heads. "How can you raise a child not your own? With her mother involved? And all of her relatives? I could never do that??" I guess due to the fact that I have lived hours and hours away from my own family for years may help in the fact that those that are close to me and love me and my boys are like family to us. My husband has lived most of his life this way. Friends are like family. So adding a birthmom and her family and possibly a birth dad and his family to our extended family is not scary at all. The more the merrier. The more my daughter knows she is loved, the better she will be. The more her mom and dad are involved in her life, the less questions she will have. The more secure she will feel with us all.

My mom was not there as I planned my wedding. My family was not there as I gave birth to my oldest son. As we laid our cat of 18 years in the ground, my family was six hours away. I have not lived close to my family for over 15 years. That does not mean I don't love them, or them me, we simply do not live close geographically. That said, I drove myself to the hospital when I gave birth. I had a close friend take pre wedding pictures. I had friends step in when I had post partum depression and my mom and sister had left the state I lived in with my second son. I had friends I turned to when my father was diagnosed with cancer.

So, as with many things, I am left alone to wait this through. To try not to talk too much about it with my friends in case I drive them as batty as I feel. To not burden my husband with my daily fears. To not cause my family anxiety with the fact that our daughter is a "maybe baby" to them. What to do? I do what I usually do in stressful situations. I write. Our baby will have a journal of our journey. I call our adoption counselor who patiently listens to me lose my mind and gently guides me back. I read everything I can get my hands on about adoption. I day dream about a birthmom calling me out of the blue, ready to hand her baby to my family and wanting to walk the next 18 plus years with us. But mostly, I pray.

I pray that I am following the path that God has laid on my heart many years ago. I pray that I am being a good mother to my boys. A good wife to my husband. A loving daughter, a caring friend. I pray for God's guidance. I pray for our birthmother, wherever she is. That she will feel His gentle hand upon her, comforting her in this decision that is heartwrenching. That she will be held close by him, and know that the family she chooses for her daughter will always cherish her. Love her. Because we wanted her and her mother.

But the waiting is hard. The daily grind keeps me busy, but I am always wondering....will today be the day? Will we know something more today???? But so far, we don't.

Total Ramblings....

This is the Christmas season. When people are nicer, family reaches out to other members that they haven't spoken to for the rest of the year, we reconnect with friends with annual Christmas cards, the joy in children's eyes, the surprise of gifts and elves, the mystery of Santa, and the all consuming gift that God gave to us in the form of a small babe.

Which reminds me of the three not so small babes in my own house. To which sounds right now I am reminded I will have to call a painter in for my basement walls soon as well as an electrician for my microwave shorting out. Christmas is a magical time in our house. From the advent wreath, to Christmas card opening, gifts, and this year the appearance of Jack Frost our elf (who does not do anything mischievous, only switches from place to place each day....). I am reminded of the wonderment of Christmas in my own family. Our hand picked tree decorated in the basement where Santa could easily hide gifts without little eyes and ears hearing. The lights outside the house all aglow. Our handmade by Grandma stockings that hung with care. It still feels the same to watch my boys come down the stairs on Christmas Day and see the joy and excitement on their faces. Next year, I hope there is an additional gift under our tree. In a pink bundle.

Now that our home study is finished, my mind begins to wander. Will we get chosen? When will we get chosen? What will she look like? How will we adjust to having a baby in the house again. Everyone is so self sufficient now. I'm just trusting God to pull all of this magic together just as only He can. But this waiting period may do me in. And it's only officially been one day that I've known everything was complete! ACK!

So, I guess I am grateful for the distraction of the holidays. For the reminder that God gave his only son to this Earth for me. For my salvation. So that in times like this that I will lean on him. Depend on him. Trust him. And continue to look to him every day as we raise our boys.

Merry CHRISTmas, my friends. May the blessings of the season be with you all.

Thanksgiving........

Today while driving to pick up some medical forms for our adoption file, I watched as a young man broke away from a walk with his group home worker and ran away. Since I know with my own background training that the safest thing is to not intervene, I watched him run in the light rain mist with just street clothes on, no jacket. I watched his worker get on her phone (we didn't have those when I worked with kids....what a nice accessory to have!) and I assume call in a run away. It got me thinking about a book I am currently reading BOYS SHOULD BE BOYS.

BOYS SHOULD BE BOYS talks about how important it is for our boys to be loved by their mothers. To be offered time and grace. To be taught how to honor their mother so they will grow to honor and respect other women in their lives. The importance of a father. Or another male role model. To limit electronic devices. To encourage reading and playing with their imaginations. To allow wrestling and war. To let them throw stones, make swords out of sticks, and to build tree houses. How boys need God in their lives. To know that there is an all knowing, all powerful, all loving presence out there for them. That they need our time. Just for us to exist with them.

As my mind processes this child running. His worker. My destination of picking up paperwork so we can hopefully add to our family, I think to the back and my boys. Am I all they need me to be. Am I there enough. Am I silent enough to hear them speak. Am I graceful enough to accept the child and forgive the transgression time after time again? How does a child get to the point where running away from shelter in the rain and cold seem like a good idea?

From my years in mental health, I know the answer to that. Drugs, sex, alcohol, bad peers which give some sort of affection that makes up for none at all. How many young boys that grow up in poverty feel that they will never live past their 30's. And I know a man who defied those odds and made a better life for himself. My husband.

I wanted to jump out of my car and grab that boy. I wanted to hug him tight. I wanted to let him know that people care about him. About his future. About his life. But I knew I couldn't. So instead, I pontificated the reasons he was running with my boys. Where they can turn if they ever feel so lost. And then we prayed for that lost running soul. That he find where he is searching. That God keeps him warm and safe and leads him to a man who can guide him onto the path. And that God watches over my own three boys. So that I may guide them alongside their father. So that the only run they feel like going on, is for exercise, as they return safely, home.

12 years ago.....

We hold our children's hands for such a short time. When I think that in SIX years my oldest son will be 18, it makes my heart ache. Where has the time gone? How did he grow so quickly? As the days drag by and the years fly, every year on each of their birthdays, I remember them as babies and marvel at the young adults they are quickly becoming.

Kadin's birth was too soon. After a placental abruption, he was forced into this world in port red wine amniotic fluid and interuterine growth restricted. I can remember the NICU workers lingering in the hallway in case they were needed. But from the start, my 5 lb wonder has been a fighter. He came out screaming and wide eyed. Almost as if he were protesting his birth. From the first look into his quiet eyes, we knew Kadin was an old soul. He definitely was sent for a big job of helping his Momma grow into a mother. Oh the journeys we shared!

From the start, Kadin was a pensive child. He talked early, he judged others early. We quickly learned to take our cues from him on the inner most heart of others. If he shied away and cried, we knew that innately, these people were not as caring as we wanted them to be. If he greeted you with open arms, you were an instand extended family member. He still has this uncanny ability to read people and their intentions.

As he grew, he was quiet, compliant, mindful, a total joy to have around. He hardly ever misbehaved, he hardly ever needed disciplined, he never got dirty, he never ran around screaming and shouting, he sat for long periods of time, and we could take him anywhere. Only he NEVER SLEPT. Holy cow! This child did not sleep through the night until kindergarten. I thought I would become a zombie from sleep deprivation. :) He sleeps quite well now, thankfully!

When I think back on that tiny baby and then I look at the strong, strapping young man he is now, I thank God for his greatest blessings. Kadin's name is Arabic and means Companion, friend. And for the past 12 years, he has definitely qualified. He is not only my son, but I am proud to call him a friend.

Happy Birthday to the first miracle in my life! Happy 12th Birthday, Kadin Scott! We love you!

National Adoption Month

Tomorrow we meet our Home Study worker from Lutheran Family and Children's services face to face for the first time. I'm nervous. I think I bug this lady and get on her last nerve with my many requests, asking for more information, for her to hurry, for her to give me more tasks to do to get this show on the road. I realize these things take time, but must they be so frustrating? We are her first case where she is straddling her responsiblities at LFCS and also Lifelink, the domestic adoption home study company. We have duplicated paperwork so many times, I no longer get upset about it, simply go and pull the last form I wrote the same informtaion down in a different order and repeat it.

I've started a list of things I want to do around the house while we wait. Because really, waiting should not be that difficult. It isn't as if I have nothing else to do. But getting this home study completed is foremost in my mind. What classes do we have to take? When will the fingerprints be back? What other paperwork is there to fill out? Will we EVER get matched??

So, say a little prayer for us tomorrow afternoon. I know I will need it!