Faith, Plans, and the Rest of Forever

I don't normally talk about my faith.  For one, I don't normally talk.  I'm about as awkward and introverted as they come, so there's not a whole lot that I talk about to begin with.  But, to be honest, I've heard lots of people talk passionately about their faith -- but their lives told another story.  I'd like to believe that you can see my faith in my actions & choices and in the way I live from day to day.  I hope that, rather than needing to hear a bunch of empty words or impassioned speeches, people can see that I'm a Christian.  I guess I'd rather be all action and no talk, rather than all talk and no action.  (I understand that there's a happy-medium, and, trust me, I'm working on it.)   But here's some talk about our actions, I guess.  :)

We finalized that adoption of our youngest kiddos just a few days ago (YAY!), so the process of making them part of our family has been fresh on my mind.  When our pastor forwarded an email to me this afternoon that I originally sent him last January, my eyes filled with tears as I was again reminded of the pain that I felt, waiting for my kids.  We still hadn't gotten "the call" telling us that we'd been selected for the kids, so, when I wrote this email to my pastor, I had no idea whether DHS would choose us or, better yet, what God's plan was for our future.   

January 29, 2015 

I know that this [adoption] process isn't about me, or about our little family of three, but about finding the best home for [Sunshine] and his siblings.

But I just feel so frustrated.  Your sermon Sunday definitely hit home; this whole process has required so much faith.  But that's why we even began - because the moment I really started spending time with [Sunshine], I just knew.  This is my son.  I would do anything for that kid.  Along the way, there have been all sorts of nudges, as if God was telling us that four more kids isn't really quite as crazy as we thought it was.  :)

My heart is racing all the time.  I had a headache all last weekend, and my husband feels pretty certain I was literally making myself sick.  I'm on the verge of tears almost constantly.  Even when I'm not purposely thinking about it, I'm nervous.  All the time.  I think my husband's more excited about hearing something than I am... just so I'll calm down about it one way or another.  (I'm sorry; I know that's all very dramatic!)

I'm sorry to fill your email with complaints... I truly do love everything - everything! - about my life.  But that's such a big reason why I feel like we should adopt these kids - We are so blessed, and I want to share that with them.  These children have been part of my every prayer for eight months. 

So... prayers please.  I feel like I might go crazy soon.

That feels like so long ago.  Every prayer at that time began with asking God to surround my kids with love, that they would miraculously know how much they were cherished even without knowing that we existed, ready to make them part of our family.  And every night, as I went to sleep, I imagined my kids being kissed goodnight by their foster parents and prayed like crazy that one day I would get to do the same.  I was so scared that DHS would choose a different family and that I would live the rest of my life imagining terrible "what if"s.  I was scared that this had all been a horrible misunderstanding, and I wasn't actually meant to be the momma of the four kiddos.  I was scared that my plan wasn't His plan.

Thankfully that wasn't the case.  Still, it's weird, being an adoptive parent.   Weird?  Not sure that's the right word, but hear me out.  I don't believe that God planned for my kids to endure so much heartache in their short lives, so it's hard for me to say that I believe God planned for me to be their mom -- because, without the heartache, I wouldn't be here.  BUT I do believe that, somewhere in all of this, God has worked miracles and blessed me with the five most thoughtful children that I've ever met.  I would need a small novel to describe the certainty that I felt that THIS IS MY SON, when everyone around me was telling me I was crazy, asking me if I truly understood what I was getting myself into, and reminding me that adopting again was not part of my plan.  Or how many times during the adoption application process I felt a gentle push from God, nudging me to not give up, reminding me to fight for my kids no matter what.  Or how many times during those awful months of weekend visits, before the kiddos were allowed to move in, that I cried as I kissed my kids goodbye and dropped them off at their foster parent's homes -- and felt the sweet reassurance that God would provide them with the love they needed to get through the week.  Or the countless days that I've felt overwhelmed with five beautiful kids who need my constant attention but who frequently need to test my love -- and was reminded of the unconditional, unending, unwavering love that my Lord has given me even in my most sinful hours.  

As usual, this blog post has been a rambling hot mess, but, if you're still reading this, surely you knew what you were getting yourself into so I'm not feeling too apologetic.  Here's the thing:  I don't deserve God's love, and I definitely don't deserve the privilege of being the momma of such amazing kiddos.  Goodness knows I'm not perfect and my flaws are endless. I'm super awkward and have to pump myself up before even considering engaging in conversations.  My kids and husband will tell you that I get stressed far too easily; after all, if I'm not stressed about something, then I'm stressed because I'm obviously forgetting what I should be stressed about.  My house was described today as being "organized chaos", but that was a complete lie.  It's straight up chaos.  My Christmas decorations are still up, the refrigerator has a few science experiments goin' on in Tupperware containers, and I can't remember the last time you could see the walls, floor or any empty space for that matter of my laundry room.  Oh!  And, in case you couldn't tell by my email above (or this blog post in general), I am not a patient person, and I can get a little dramatic sometimes.  

But there's one more thing I know for sure:  I thank my God every day for the six blessings in my home (5 kids + 1 amazing husband = 6) and for His plans, which have repeatedly proven so much greater than mine.

Adopting required a lot of faith:  that God would provide financially for a family of seven on the income of two teachers; that the responsibility of raising five kiddos wouldn't be too much to handle; that our little three-bedroom home wouldn't burst at the seems with so many people (and personalities!) under one roof; and that the love I so quickly felt for one little boy would be replicated time and time again as we became a family.  This ...adventure... has had some horribly difficult moments (I'm sensing another blog post in the near future), but our belief that we are following a plan far greater than ours -- that is what has kept us going.  Adopting isn't easy.  Parenting kids from hard places is downright ugly sometimes.  But, with God, anything is possible... even when His plans include a baseball-team-sized family. 

And so, the rest of forever begins.

Will You Spend the Rest of Forever With Me?

This morning, I ate at Cracker Barrel with a friend.  We talked about life, our kids, being adoptive moms, sharing some of the most important parts of our lives with women we've never met (birth moms), and just how bizarre life can be sometimes.  It's pretty nice to have a friend who can say, "Been there.  Done that.  Here's what ya need to do to survive..."

But, while we were talking, I couldn't help but be distracted by a couple sitting at the table next to us.  They were giggling, throwing straw wrappers, poking and pinching each other.  They were flirting like crazy!

And, if I were to guess, they were each about 75.

I loved it. 

On November 19th, my husband and I will have been married four years.  And, before that, we dated for seven.  I have spent well over 1/3 of my life with a man encourages me to be me, even when that includes bad cooking, an introvert personality, poor taste in clothes, lots of awkwardness (let's face it, I'm a tall bundle of awkward ways), countless failed New Year's resolutions, zero organization skills, and this little habit of bringing a bajillion kids home.  When I became a vegetarian, his steak-loving-self said "I think that's great!".  When I consider eating meat just because it would be easier to cook for the family, he says, "Don't change unless you want to.  Don't do it for anyone else."  I'm an ugly crier, but that man of mine will kiss away every tear.  He's the calm in every storm -- You'd think that, as such a shy, quiet person, I would have a pretty level head because I don't do much talking (so surely I must do a lot of thinking), right?  Wrong.  But that husband of mine will talk me through every problem, listening to my ramblings and sorting through my drama.  Every time I am down, worried about the future, hurting because - well, because sometimes it just hurts to be a mom, afraid that I'm failing miserably at every aspect of my life... Every time, my husband says, "But I think you're amazing.  You'll always have me." 

Seeing that sweet elderly couple made me happy today because 1) I love people who are in love.  We see so much evil in the world.  It's pretty dang fantastic to see love win.  And 2) because, looking at those two, I was reminded of my husband who will do anything to see me laugh instead of cry.  Who even laughs at my lame jokes.  Who believes I can do anything and be anything I want.  Who loves me, flaws and all.  Who I will grow old forever young with.  

The best part?  

I married a man who I can tell my daughters, "When you're looking for 'the one', for the kind of man to marry, look for someone who's kind like your dad.  Who makes you laugh like your daddy makes me laugh.  Who not only asks how you are, but waits to hear the answer like your daddy does.  Who encourages you to do your best, and loves you even when 'your best' looks a lot like your worst -- just like your daddy does."

I married a man who I - every day - encourage my sons to look up to.  Want to know how to act when you're angry?  Watch your daddy.  Want to know how to treat a girl?  Watch your daddy.  Want to know what to do when you lose, or win, or are confused, or know the answer?  Watch your daddy.  

I created my Club Minivan blog because my life is anything but normal, and I think I have a pretty unique story to share.  My husband is part of that unique story.  There is no way I could have asked my beautiful children to spend the rest of forever as my sons and daughters if this man of mine hadn't first asked me to spend the rest of forever with him.  

"I thank my God every time I remember you."  ~ Philippians 1:3

One Mom's Letter to the World

"It's okay for you to think he's cute, but... You wouldn't actually go out with him, right?  He's white!  And you're not.  I'm not racist or anything.  That's just weird!"

"I could never adopt because I think it would be impossible to love the adopted kid as much as a real kid.  I mean, I know you're adopted and all, but you know what I mean, right?"

"At least I wasn't taken away from my parents like you were."

"Your mom just adopted you because she felt sorry for you."

"WHAT?!  Your mom is WHITE?!  How??""

"Hmmm.  I thought African American people were supposed to be good at sports."

"Why would your parents want to adopt instead of having real kids?  Can they not have kids of their own?"

"My dad isn't racist.  He just told me I can't ever date black boys because he doesn't trust them.  But it's okay if I'm friends with you!  You're a girl!  It's different.  So it's not that big of a deal that you're black.  We can still like hang out and stuff!"

"So.  Did your first parents just not want you, or what?"



Dear World,

Sometimes you say some pretty ignorant things.

Sincerely,
The momma of some pretty amazing kids who are frequently told lots of un-amazing things

P.S. I don't know what having biological kids is like.  I never plan to.  (Seriously, people.  Our house is at maximum capacity.  My stress level is, too.)  But I know I would give my life to protect my kids, and I can't imagine a love any greater than that.  I'd say that makes me a "real" mom of "real" kids.

P.P.S.  I always encourage my kids to walk away:  "Fighting isn't the answer. You're better than that.  We always treat everyone - even people we don't like - with respect.  Just walk away."  ... That sort of thing.  

Unless it's an ignorant comment  like the ones listed above.  Then my instructions are:  "Fighting isn't the answer. You're better than that.  We always treat everyone - even people who we don't like - with respect.  BUT, while you're walking away, if you want to think in your head 'My parents chose me. They begged for me;  they fought to adopt me.  Your parents were stuck with you'... I'm okay with that."

Perhaps it's not the best motherly advice.  But no one's perfect, right?

Wait... I'm Really Having to Say This?!

Oh, the joys of parenting.  Sometimes, you just gaze at your children and thank the good Lord above for your precious little ones.

And sometimes you wonder how the heck they make it through the day in one piece.

Today, as my oldest son was giving the roof of our car a quick kiss, my husband leaned over and said, "We really need to make a list of these moments."  You know, the moments that you're simultaneously thinking "Wait... I'm really having to say this?"  and wondering how your kids could have lived with you for three months now (or, in our oldest daughter's case, three years) and NOT know this stuff yet.  The moments that you look around and ask, "Am I just failing miserably as a parent right now?!"

#1 - "Sunshine, we do NOT kiss the roof of the car.  ... And, no, we don't kiss the windows either."

#2 - "Goose, I'm sorry that your brother kicking the ball in your face has made your heart sad.  Perhaps you shouldn't pick flowers when you're goalie anymore."

#3 - "Yes, I will give you a hug as long as you don't burp in my ear.  I learned my lesson the first time."

#4 - "No, I will not judge your farting contest.  Do you even know who you're talking to?!"

#5 - "Liam, I think it's great that you stole the ball in soccer today.  No, we don't steel the ball from our own teammates.  ...No, seriously, I probably wouldn't brag about that."

#6 - "Goose, make-up and high heels are worn around the house only.  ...I understand that you don't think that's fair. You're five.  Talk to me in eight years and I'll reconsider, I promise."

#7 - "It's okay.  We're only twelve minutes late to church today.  They probably haven't even gotten to the offering yet."  (...We're working on it, okay?)

#8 - "Do they really need to join boy scouts?  We've got our own troop right here."  (Have I mentioned that my family is ginormous?)

#9 - (My routine bedtime conversation with our five-year-old) "Remember, one hug and one kiss.  ...Yes, one drink.  ...I'm sorry your tummy is growling.  But the good news is we'll eat first thing in the morning again.  ...Do you want me to cover you up now or later?  ...I promise I'll remember to check on you AND cover you up AND make sure your door is cracked THIS much AND blow you a kiss.  ...Your toe will be okay.  ...No, we already read a book tonight.  ...We'll talk about what we're having for breakfast in the morning.  ...Yes, we have breakfast every morning.  ...Please say excuse me when you burp.  ...Now you want me to cover you up?  But you just told me you wanted me to - never mind.  Here you go.  Of course I'll cover you up now.  ...Here's your doggy to cuddle with! ...So you want me to cover you up later instead?  Of course.  I'll be happy to. ...You told me you didn't want Mr. Potato Head.  But you do?  Okay, great!  Here you go!  ...Well, it's amazing what band-aids can do and GUESS WHAT?!  We can put a band-aid on that FIRST THING in the morning!  ...My eyes always hurt a lot less when I close them.  And, you know, go to sleep.  ...Go to sleep, Goose.  ...Goodnight Goose.  ...That's fine, go to the bathroom.  ...Did you wash your hands?  No?  Then why are your hands in your mouth?!  Go wash your hands.  ...Okay, goodnight! I love you!  ...Who loves you more than anything?  ...Yes, Mommy and Daddy.  For the rest of forever."

#10 - "Please stop letting the dog lick you in the armpit."


Stay tuned.  I'm sure we'll have more gems to add to this list.  ;)

The Rest of the Story

I love my job.  I love my students.  But MY GOODNESS every once in a while, there's a kid who, well, requires a little extra patience. I can remember the day a little boy moved backed into our district and sauntered into my class, chip on his shoulder and frown on his face. I'm not normally a Negative Nancy when it comes to my students, but I remember thinking "Oh boy... here we go again."  Here was a kid who talked all the time, rarely followed directions, and was CONSTANTLY begging for attention any way he could get it.  Once, after working an entire class period on one paper, I said, "Okay class!  Keep your papers looking nice until you get home so you can show them off to your parents!"  -- And the kid immediately crumpled up his paper and dramatically marched to the trash can and threw it away.  He always seemed so unpleasant, like he was angry at the world.  

A few years later, that little boy is now my son.  All of those classroom memories make so much more sense now that I know the rest of the story.  He is one of the kindest, most loving and thoughtful kids that you'll ever meet.  But a little angry at the world?  He has every right to be.

The rest of his story is not mine to tell, but I'm happy to talk about how he stole a piece of my heart and reminded me that everyone deserves to have their story heard.  Don't pass judgment when you don't really understand what's going on.

Of course, it's easier said than done, and every once in a while I need another reminder.

Like last week.  Another sweet son of mine (we'll call him "Liam") was having trouble speaking calmly and kindly to big brother.  (Okay, it was definitely a two-way street, and big brother faced consequences too... but that's not really an important part of the story.)  Because Liam was unable to fix the problem on his own, my husband and I asked him to write a one-page paper about why showing love is important.

The first thing Liam said after hearing his assignment was, "I don't get it."

I replied, "Liam.  Write about why it's important to show that you love someone even when you're frustrated or upset with them.  Why is it important to remember that we always love each other?"

Again, "I don't get it."

And being the brilliant, thoughtful parent that I am, I said, "You're fine. Write the paper."

The paper went unwritten for a long time.  I gave Liam all sorts of incentives, like:  "The paper will be done by tonight or you'll owe me 30 push-ups."  (He chose the push-ups.)  "People who have finished all of their chores and have finished writing any papers they owe me may play video games."  (He chose to not play video games.)

My husband finally stepped in and had a man-to-man talk with Liam.  That night, Liam finished the paper.

I was thrilled!  I thanked my husband and gushed about what a good influence he was on our sweet Liam.  

But then I read the paper.

"Why Love is Important:

They help me with homework.

They are nice to me.

They love me a lot.

They play with me.

They share with me.

They keep an eye on me.

They don't yell at me.

They tell good things.

They keep me safe.

They play sports with me."  ...etc.

I turned around and walked straight back to my husband.  EXPLAIN YOURSELF.  All Liam did was make a list of things WE do for HIM.  What in the world does that have to do with "Why Love is Important"?!?!?!

That's when he told me about the conversation he and Liam had during their 'man-to-man' time:

"Liam, why haven't you written your paper?"

"I don't understand it."

"Aren't you just supposed to write about why love is important?"

"Yes sir, but I don't get it."

"Liam, write about why showing us that you love us is important. I know you love your siblings and your mom and me.  You say so every night at bedtime."

"But, Dad, I thought that's just something you say.  Like, good night, and hello.  Stuff like that."  

"Do you know what love means?"

"No sir."

And so Liam wrote a paper, not about what love is or why it's important to show it, but about what love looks like.  It's helping with homework, even though there are a million other things I could be doing.  It's being nice... even when he's DRIVING ME INSANE.  It's playing with him and sharing with him - even when it's incredibly inconvenient - because he is that special to me.  It's keeping him safe, even when I'm scared out of my mind. 

So, I guess, Liam taught me two important lessons that day.  Knowing what love is isn't quite as important as knowing what love feels like.  Love makes you feel happy, safe, welcome, cherished, special.  Love makes you feel important.

The second lesson, of course, was the reminder that everyone deserves to be heard.  What you see on the outside isn't always what's going on on the inside.  My son has lived much of his life not knowing what love is -- and, gosh darn it, if he learns nothing else from me, he WILL know what love is. 

And that, my friends, is the rest of the story.