Prayer for peace

Tonite I choose … consciously and deliberately choose … to be angry with the mancubs’ birth mother.

If she had only stuck with and worked her plan.

If she hadn’t harmed the boys, put them in danger, neglected them.

If she had only been a M-O-M to them …

If …

Then my 8-year old wouldn’t have had the confrontation with his friend at school today that he had.

For whatever reason, they started comparing their pain: his friend is about to have another surgery – he’s had too many to count and I imagine having to deal with the pain of surgery & recovery is super hard.

But to state it is more painful than being ripped away from your birth mother? That’s too much for me.

And it was too much for my son. I don’t have the whole story, but I think it may have gotten a little physical.

My youngest was 3 when he and his brothers and sisters were removed from their home. And despite all that he went through with his birth mother, there’s always going to be a part of him that wants to be with her.

I can respect that.

I cried on my way home from work tonite because I knew then as I know now that there will never be anything I can say or do that will completely take away his or his brothers’ pain. As much as I wish there was a magic wand or a special potion, there isn’t. He & his brothers and their sisters didn’t deserve this.

But it happened.

Their sisters are safe in a city far away from the birth family, as are our boys.

My prayer for the children … our boys and their sisters … is that they all will sleep peacefully tonite and every night.

And know they are safe.

And loved.

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The Journey

We’re in the “final stretch” of the adoption process. With the stroke of the judge’s pen in just a few short weeks, we will officially be a family of 5. This has been a journey of a lifetime filled with a lot of waiting, prayer, and tears.

Sweet Husband and I will celebrate 33 years as man & wife later this month. As I raced down the aisle (true story: the priest had to gently signal to me to s-l-o-w d-o-w-n) to enter into covenant with Sweet Husband, did my twenty-something self ever imagine we’d begin the parenthood journey to three boys ranging from 8 to 11 the same year I was contemplating retirement?

Um … no.

And yet …

As we began this part of our journey well over a year ago, I remember wondering two things: were we “too old” to become parents; would there ever be anyone that would call me, “Mom.”

Now there are three that do: They’ve been calling us “Mom” and “Dad” since our second meeting early this past summer.

The moment they stepped through our front door, a few things became our reality:

Reality #1: this parenting gig is tough!  I was commenting to a colleague not long ago that I’ve never known a person could be this tired. She, a grandmother, laughed.

Y’all, Sweet Husband and I are old! A good friend texted us a few weeks after the mancubs came to live with us asking how we were doing. I responded, “We’re half the age of Abraham & Sarah and three times as tired!”

We belong to a sweet group at church called “Old Parents with Young Kids.” The group appealed to us initially because of the name.  Once we met them, we knew it wasn’t just the name of the group that was appealing. Turns out while all of us are older parents, we’ve all become parents through different avenues of adoption. While we only meet once a month, they’re one of our critical supports and we’re so thankful to have them in our lives.

Reality #2: you’re only too old to do something if you think you’re too old. Not going to lie, there have been plenty of moments these past months Sweet Husband and I wondered if we did the right thing because we are, admittedly, old.

Reality #3: these boys are worth every ounce of energy we pour into them; as perpetually exhausted as Sweet Husband & I seem to be, they have our hearts. This Mama Bear will move mountains so our cubs can grow into men who, as our Pastor said in a recent sermon series, “love God and have a job.”

Reality #4: I had forgotten how children view the world. Why is forgetting so easy?  I’ve lost count of the many moments over these past several weeks now burned permanently, indelibly, in my mind: The exuberant exclamations of, “Mom, you’ve just got to come see this butterfly, it’s so beautiful!”; giggles coming from the living room because of whatever silliness is happening on TV; sleepy snuggles from the youngest after a hard day of playing and working in the yard with Dad. And the questions! I pray these three never lose their love of learning and asking questions … even when neither Sweet Husband nor I have any idea of the correct answer.

We’re thankful this part of the journey will be ending soon and even more thankful for the beginning of our new chapter as an official family of 5 in early 2019.

Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it.  Proverbs 22:6

 

“As ready as I’ll ever be”

These past few months have been a whirlwind of activity at the Casa …

  • new job
  • Sweet Husband graduated with his Master’s
  • accepted to seminary
  • we’re adopting

Let’s take a moment to absorb that last bullet, shall we?

Sweet Husband and I are going to be parents. Of a sibling group. We promised not to limit God and so however many He gives us, we’ll take and call our own.  We’ve found a group we’d like to be considered for. So we keep praying.

I’ve been asked if I’m ready for this. Is anyone ever ready to be a parent? My consistent response?

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

I am so impressed with how Sweet Husband is leading us through the process. He’s so ready to be a father and he’s not wanting to wait any longer than is necessary.

My Quiet Times this past month have been all about getting off my keister and sharing my story. My story of how good our God has been to me: of the incredible grace He’s bestowed on me and Sweet Husband, of how much He truly loves us and has choreographed each divine encounter through both my life and this adoption journey.

And so, here I am, reading Sweet Husband’s sent-just-now text:

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He doesn’t know how much these 8 words mean to me … but God does.

Now that is amazing Grace.