tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79294823846293481242024-03-08T10:11:09.464-08:00Family by His DesignVandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15571446852370514296noreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929482384629348124.post-38799639292643429152014-09-16T13:22:00.000-07:002014-09-16T13:23:34.516-07:00Changes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm not sure why writing seems to be so seasonal for me.<br />
I seem to feel that urge to put the pen to paper when we go through a major life change. <br />
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A lot has happened at our house since last year when I wrote about camp. Our oldest settled into marriage as well as an instant family on a beautiful day in early spring. It felt odd sitting in my seat as Mama-of-the Bride. This came too fast...but SHE has been walking toward that moment for her all of her life. From that day forward her heart beat for another and so her daddy and I did what good parents eventually do and we stepped back. Quite literally dancing on the stage between them was the little girl who became my granddaughter that day. The icing on the cake! It tickles me pink that she loves me. So as my heart was truly grieving, a little imp was there to fill it back up. My little grandbaby girl walked down the aisle of the church right between her daddy and her Jana to begin their new life. It was all as it should be for them. I wasn't feeling it. I can't even find the words to describe the day after their wedding. I had an old fashioned, take-to-my-bed, shut the door, mama's not sane, I can't lift my arms, "honey, help me walk to the bathroom", breakdown! Just as I began to recover and take notice that spring was making way for summer, my second daughter said "Yes" to her long time boyfriend and high school sweetheart. So here we go again...<br />
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Some might say that the second time of anything is not as exciting as the first but I disagree. Same excitement, just different. I know some things this time around. The first peek of my oldest in her wedding gown took my breath away. It was such a blur of excitement. When my second born stepped out of the dressing room in her wedding gown, I knew to slow down, step back and breath in the treasure of the moment. Although very different, each moment is etched forever in my memory. I also now know how much I cherish time spent with my oldest and her family, post wedding. I know that I love to cook big Sunday dinners and I just like saying to anyone who will listen "my kids are coming". Hopefully the day after this wedding I will remember before I break that the seasons are just changing.<br />
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There are other, more subtle changes. The heaviness that plagued our family for so many years after the adoptions seems be lifting. PTSD, Attachment Disorder, anger issues and other hidden disabilities that forever defined us are healing. When they do show up, it's harder to tell if they stem from those issues or if it's just age appropriate behaviors or <em>miss</em>-behaviors:) The thing about living life, day after day, is that given enough time it becomes their life too. Their stories are now so entwined with ours that they know what to expect, even when everything around them is changing.<br />
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<a href="http://www.kingjamesbibleonline.org/Ecclesiastes-3-1_3-22/" title="Ecclesiastes 3:1-22"><strong><em>Ecclesiastes 3:1-22</em></strong></a><em> - To every [thing there is] a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:</em><br />
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Vandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15571446852370514296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929482384629348124.post-70937577416769387122013-06-20T22:36:00.002-07:002013-06-20T22:36:24.493-07:00CAMP!!!We are at camp! The Children's Homes that we adopted our children through hosts a three day camp each year in June for foster families. During the three day retreat the foster parents attend classes to earn their training hours while the children participate in summer camp activities. For many of the children, depending on how long they have been in foster care this is their very first time to go on a mini-vacation of any kind much less a summer camp. The setting has a retro, sixties feel to it, complete with a lake, some really tall hills and mosquitos! I began coming here twelve years ago as an employee of the Children's Homes and then for a few years we attended camp as a foster family. We skipped the next few years because after we adopted our foster children we were no longer eligible to attend.<br />
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Shawn and I now serve as ambassadors for the Children's Homes and I also returned to work part time for the Children's Homes. So here we are again. Within minutes of our arrival I realized how much I have forgotten. I forgot what it feels like for our family to fit in. We see many other families here who look just like us. I forgot what it's like to not cook for seven meals straight! (A little selfish, but a BIG perk for a tired mama). I forgot about snack-time. The sheer amount of snacks provided by local churches for 600 plus people twice a day is an overwhelming sight! Every night at 8:30 the snack bar is open and the kids and adults are allowed to get two snacks or a drink and a snack each. The adults seem to accept this just fine but if I heard one child, I heard ten kids say in disbelief, "You mean I can have anything I want and I don't even have to pay for it"! Shawn and I had a good laugh tonight as we watched a boy who looked to be about ten or eleven years old with two slushies. He was drinking from a straw from each slushie at the same time. I think the snack bar at night is my favorite part of camp. The phrase "like a kid in a candy store" is so much fun to see in person! However, the most important thing I had forgotten was the feeling of heightened awareness of seeing Jesus so many times in one day. He's in the little faces of toddlers let loose to run on the chapel lawn. I saw Him today in the protectiveness of a foster dad's eyes. He's here, one family after another. Often, the only thing the families have in common is that they said "yes". He's evident in the smiles of the staff who work with and pray for these children and their foster families every day of the year. I thought about this a lot today. Why is the Holy Spirit's presence so strong here when it's not really meant to be a time or worship? I know why. It's pure religion. Pure religion, undefiled before God is to visit the fatherless in their affliction. Vandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15571446852370514296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929482384629348124.post-88510159525515732282013-05-24T23:35:00.002-07:002013-05-24T23:35:47.137-07:00Grandaddy ShawnWe spent this Friday evening of Memorial Day weekend at "Pump It Up" for a six year old birthday party. Our family has made many new friends this year among the parents and kids of baseball and ballet. We still feel so young it's almost easy to forget...that is until birthday boy's dad asked Shawn if he was another mom's dad:( ...and the other mom was embarrassed??? Cracked me up until I realized that he must have thought her son who is Christian's best friend was our grandson. We started the season jokingly referring to ourselves as the mawmaw and pawpaw of the ball team. Not so far from the truth, I guess.<br />
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Amberly got her back handspring yesterday and is doing round-off/back handprings today! It tickles me pink because that energy that aged me and her daddy enough for us to be mistaken for grandparents is what drives her to master gymnastics without actually taking the class. In fact, that energy that keeps her from sitting still long enough to make those straight "A's" she so desperately craves (though I know she could if I could manage to keep her still for at least 10 minutes in a row), is exactly what makes her eyes twinkle. Her sister, typical oldest, high achiever, former JHS Cheer Captain, Valedictorian, firstborn type watched in shameless envy this afternoon as Am tumbled in the living room. She said that all she ever wanted for all of the six years she cheered was to master her back handspring. This same sister, the most driven person I know, never met that goal despite hours of instruction in gymnastics. Now to her credit, she did instruct Amberly on the finer points of one's back handspring technique. After watching my girls together all afternoon and seeing Jana truly delight in the accomplishment of her baby sister, I am so thankful that God made our Amberly exactly as she is. My mold for daughters would surely have been stale by this third Davenport girl. <br />
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Other thoughts...I ordered the book "Beautiful Girlhood". While I'm learning to embrace high energy, I have not liked the sassiness that came with 4th grade. We already had the companion/study guide. I'm planning to spend summer mornings with Amberly going through this book and study guide. We also came up with "Fieldtrip Friday". If they do their reading and chores each day of the week then on Friday we will do a fun activity. Today we went to Oak Mountain State Park and hiked to Peavine Falls and then tonight, "Pump it Up". I.am.not.old. and if I weren't so tired, I'd prove it!<br />
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Vandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15571446852370514296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929482384629348124.post-42700182809601785712013-05-16T14:23:00.001-07:002013-05-16T21:43:42.852-07:00Good ConductA well-meaning mom wrote on her facebook wall that she was thankful to the PIT (Parent Involvement Team) for the good conduct field trip. She was sharing publicly how thankful she was that good behavior is rewarded because, in her words, some children may not be capable of making all A's but EVERY child can sit down, be quiet and respect their elders. <br />
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I am so glad that my mama taught me years ago to, as popular country song puts it, "hide my crazy and be a lady"!!! I did not comment in that forum (I ran to my blog with just one follower instead). I had to take a deep breath and remember that not too many years ago, I would have said the same thing. Shoot, I probably would have been the PTI mama who headed up the drive to raise the money to take the "good" children on the fieldtrip! In all seriousness, I mean no disrespect to the children who have someone in their life who has high expectations for them or even better, who strive to be obedient because they have been carried to church and understand fully that this is what Jesus and their parents expect. They should be rewarded. But what about the others. What about the child who takes the safest does of medication allowed just to be able to focus but it wears off somewhere between lunch and 4th period and doesn't take effect again until 30 minutes after the lunch dose? What about the little boy who is acting out because mom and dad fight all the time? What about the child who lives with secrets no child should ever have to live with. What about the one who goes home to take care of themselves and maybe younger siblings because no one else cares enough about them to see that they even have clean clothes. <br />
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I'm sorry but I respectfully disagree. EVERY child can not sit down, be quiet and respect their elders. Sadly these are most likely the same children who live with the shame of always falling short of everyone's expectations, like making all A's. To SOME children, grades and conduct are the least of their worries, school is just a place to get a hot meal, somewhere relatively safe. SOME children simply haven't been taught. Then there is the one, like my little girl, who is just too full of spunk and sparkle, on the far end of ADHD, with parents at home who love her and do their very best to teach her to sit down, be quiet and respect her elders...the one that didn't get to go on the field trip but spent the day enjoying meeting the two very nice teachers she got to spend the day with...the one who couldn't understand why I was so upset because she didn't feel left out. She liked the other teacher's room because it was quiet:)Vandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15571446852370514296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929482384629348124.post-83954383824591300892013-05-11T21:37:00.000-07:002013-05-16T21:43:11.580-07:00Little Red Riding HoodTonight, I watched my ten year old daughter dance the role of "Little Red Riding Hood" in front of an audience of 200 people at her ballet school's spring performance. She took my breath away. We enrolled her in ballet just two years ago strictly to lengthen her muscles...because a little girl who can out run all the boys from 2nd to 10th grade is supposed to run track!!! She can't try out for the track team until sixth grade and we just couldn't sit around and do nothing until then! But nothing could have prepared me for the sight of her in a red flowing cape waltzing in and out of a living fairy tale. I will never forget. <br />
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The confidence she had on stage was no where to be found this morning. I found her crying in the bathroom. She was crying because she was afraid everyone would be disappointed because Little Red Riding Hood is not supposed to be black. I assured her that this was not true but I felt so guilty that I could not find the right words to comfort her. I felt guilty that she is the only black child at ballet. In fact, she and her little brother are often the only black children at church, at school and on the ball team. I felt guilty for being her mother. On the way to dress rehearsal, I believe the Lord did give me the words to say. I asked her who her father was. She said, "Daddy". I said no, your other father. She said, Jesus. I shared with her that since He is the king, then she is a princess, Daughter of the King. He does not make mistakes. He made the color of your skin. He placed you in your family and He directs your path. It was His choice to bless you with this role. You say thank you and you give it back to Him by doing your best. The doubts she was facing, her confidence that was shaken was not from her Father. It was from Satan, the accuser. This was enough for me. I knew that we had a God moment and we were both relieved by His provision. <br />
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However, this was not enough for her Father. Not for His princess. You see, there is a banquet hall next door to the theater and there happened to be a wedding booked at the same time as Little Red Riding Hood. There also happened to be a large number of children and teenagers in attendance at this wedding...and they happened to be African American. Five minutes before the curtains opened, in they walked and filled the back two rows of the left side of the auditorium. Everyone thought they were there for her...and I believe they were. Vandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15571446852370514296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929482384629348124.post-49436324621744848522013-01-24T23:19:00.000-08:002013-01-25T10:06:09.438-08:00Shadow MamaSurreal. Foggy. Shadows. Snapshots of Jana catch my breath. I see a younger, "me". Both girls are head over heals in love and they don't recognize my smile as a vivid memory of me and their dad as "young love". Braden is a mixed up reflection of my dad and his dad, the two men who hold both my little girl and grown up heart. All of these years and I'm still a "Mommy" to a six year old, a "Mama" to a ten year old. I live with the shadow of other faces, echoes. Most days I struggle to embrace the "now" for living in the "then". <br />
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If I ever write a book, I have the name..."Shadow Mama". I should probably rename my blog. It suits me. I'm doing it all again except this time, in the middle of forty. Two decades later I'm repeating kindergarten and fourth grade, Jesus Loves me and baseball, dance lessons and chores...laundry and more laundry, "because I said so" and mama love. Why does it seem like I did it all much better the first time? There's another definition that sits below the surface. I'm taking someone else's place. This shouldn't be me. My little girl should look into a face that resembles hers, reach for a hand that is ebony,strong and solid. There would be no need for constant reassurance. In this world as it could have been, my little boy would not yearn to look like us. He wouldn't hate it so much when strangers sneak a second glance and a third. He wouldn't be anxious and angry about things he can't remember. <br />
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Perhaps the reason that I struggle with this so much is because I have the mixed blessing of motherhood by both birth and adoption. If I had only birth children, we would be a unit - past, present and future. If I had "only" adopted children, I would glory in the "present", thankful for a future. I feel caught somewhere between undeserving and not enough. <br />
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<br />Vandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15571446852370514296noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929482384629348124.post-1319513972142522762013-01-23T12:08:00.000-08:002013-01-25T10:06:42.860-08:00Life BlockIt's hard to believe that the last time I posted was June, 2011! I just read that last post and I realized, I'm stuck. Not writers block...more like a life block. Our two oldest girls...scratch...young women (daughters) are still away at college. Anna discovered that her wings grew in quite nicely and she actually lands here for a few hours on the weekend. She is so busy with nursing classes and clinicals. I love to hear about her patients and her interactions with them. She has found her calling even though some days she is completely traumatized. Jana is in her junior year of college and has lost all all interest in collegiate activities in favor of a certain someone who captured her attention last September. The "stuck" that I referred to comes in here...while they busy living life, I'm still trying to figure out how to be a full-time mama of three kids instead of five. They don't need the super hands on, hyper-interested mama that I've always been. Major confession - still am. This might explain the eye roll that I get when I remind them to put on their lip-stick like a good southern mama should. I'm really not stuck at all. Just musing that "letting go" is so much harder than I ever thought it would be. I'm almost certain that from the outside we look like we've mastered this but I miss the girls being close by so much. God's timing is perfect though. I have three other blessings who still need a mom and dad to delight in them. <br />
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A lot has happened in almost two years. I tried to go back to work at the Children's Homes last February. Christian wouldn't have it! I made it from February to April and have paid a full ten month penance for straying away from the full time duty of being his mom. I was so confused at the time because it seemed so clear to me that God opened this specific door. He most certainly did but not for the reasons I thought. The past ten months have been a crash course in PTSD, attachment, trust based parenting, the effects of trauma on children, the list could go on and on! The resources we needed for Christian's healing were first made available through the Children's Homes. I did not even realize at the time that he had PTSD or what that would mean. God provided before we knew we needed it. This experience led us to a unique training opportunity with Empowered to Connect. We can't wait to share what we have learned with other foster and adoptive parents in the future. We will never be able to adequately thank this ministry for investing in us as parents. <br />
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<br />Vandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15571446852370514296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929482384629348124.post-80698260352696471572011-07-15T10:23:00.000-07:002011-07-16T00:11:46.865-07:00"If there were no changes...there would be no butterflies"Our Anna is wiggling in her cocoon! She is grieving for her last few weeks at home full-time. Oddly, this makes it ten times easier for me. This time last year I was in tears over Jana. She was so ready and excited, I think it felt more like she was leaving us. As all mama's eventually do, I've begun the process of nudging my little chick from the nest. I can handle this much better! I like spending this time thinking of ways to make the transition easier for her.<br /><br />Jana is flying! Her wings are painted with all the colors that are her. She has been in North Carolina for the summer working an internship at a ranch. When I told her that her sister was having a hard time, she immediately concluded that Anna is a "late bloomer"...remembering that she worked through her own similar feelings mid senior year. Jana's call to counseling is unmistakable.<br /><br />I can already feel the flutters of change that this season will bring for the younger ones. The last ten years were spent focusing on the girls and their various activities. That time with them was well invested and they are equipped. Without all of the functions that active high schoolers bring, Shawn has been able to spend countless hours with Braden in the canoe, fishing. Braden is developing an intense interest into anything wild. This week he has bruises on his arms from shooting arrow after arrow at the haystack in the yard. Not only has he been developing his archery skills but he's had time to think. I love listening to the things that he thinks about. He reminds me so much of my daddy.<br /><br />The little kids are "home schooling" this summer. We don't home school but we've used this summer to explore the option. Since we live in a small town and our schools are not terrible, we probably won't home school but it has been a great summer of learning for both of them. I forgot how much I love to spend this kind of time with children. It has been good for all of us.<br /><br />I'm not sad yet, though I know I will be. I've been here before and with that comes the knowledge that leaving the cocoon brings on the wings!Vandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15571446852370514296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929482384629348124.post-7466875813175453742011-04-01T23:46:00.000-07:002011-04-02T01:15:51.697-07:00What to Say?I've been asked to share some of my experience as a foster/adoptive mother at a GPS class next week. GPS is a ten week training class that prospective foster parents must go through in order to receive their license from the state. Hopefully writing this post will help me get my thoughts in order! So if you are reading this, just pretend you are considering becoming a foster parent.<br /><br />Turn on the T.V. at ANY time of the day and you will be able to find a "birth story" an "adoption story", a "wedding story", an addiction story...people want to know all about other people. What you will not find anywhere is a foster story. For good reason. Privacy is one of the first things you learn as a foster parent. You simply cannot share every detail of what you will witness in your daily life with your kids. Nor will you want too. However, as a society we have grown accustomed to too much information. You won't find much on the internet, on T.V. or even at the library. If you do, it will most likely discourage you. The road that you take as a foster parent will often be very lonely. You will have social workers, directors, counselors and other foster parents. You will be surrounded by people who can provide you with valuable information and advice but no one can prepare you for the children that your will foster. Because just like these stories that we all love to watch, every foster child is different. Because you are here at this GPS, I trust you know the Lord. Ultimately, He is the only one that understands the needs of your child. It is essential that you completely trust Him to guide you through this. This is not to say that you will not need all of the people that I mentioned, you will! You all share a common goal, taking the best care of your foster child until that child is in a permanent situation. You are the one who will be there 24/7 until that need is fulfilled.<br /><br />I will begin by telling you what we do not have experience with, this might be your experience. We have never fostered older children or a sibling group. Because of our location we have never fostered easy children. We got the children who were a little harder to place simply because the DHR social workers do not like to drive more than an hour for visits. We don't have much experience with birth parents. Our first placement saw her mother twice before her adoption three years after coming into our care. Our second placement did return home to his mother after nine months. He was granted supervised weekend visits and was transported by a social worker. We met her a month before he was returned home to her. Our third placement was abused by his mother. Again, because he was a possible adoptive placement we were not able to meet her for his protection once he was adopted.<br /><br />My husband, Shawn and I are not currently fostering. I guess the main reason would be that we adopted two of our three permanent placements. We're out of room! At the moment we are parents to a college freshman, a senior, a seventh grader, a second grader and a preschooler. That translates to one home with me all day and one in every division of the school system!<br /><br />We have three birth children. We answered the call to foster when our oldest was thirteen and our youngest was six. If you have children, that's probably one of the first questions that you would ask. Is what we are doing fair to our children? That is a question that I still ask myself six years later. In some ways the answer is no. It's not fair. They give up a lot and too much is expected of them. I can't know the people they would be now if they had not been through this experience. I can see positive and negative ways that it has affected each of them. All of them have told me at one time or another that they struggle with this question too but in the end they cannot imagine our family any different than it is now. They love their siblings very much and are extremely protective of them.<br /><br />We did a lot of respite before we received our first placement. Probably because of the fact that I worked for the Children's Home. I completely bonded with the first beautiful baby girl that we did respite for. She looked exactly like my middle daughter. I begged Louise to let me keep her as a full-time placement. Because Louise is ever-wise and is completely unaffected by tears she sent her to live with the family who had her older sister. It took me three months to get over loosing a child who was never mine and had only stayed with us for a week. You will get attached. Looking back, God was preparing me very early to trust all of the children in our care to Him. The week that Kamryn stayed with us our church was rehearsing an Easter Cantata One of the songs was "At the Foot of the Cross". The song talks about laying your worries, everything at the foot of His cross. I held that baby girl close to my chest that week and sang my heart out. I could visualize laying her at the foot of his cross. It was five years later that I realized the logo of the Children's home is the little children in the shadow of the cross.<br /><br />Another little one that we did respite for was an African American baby with Down's Syndrome. He was in a wonderful foster placement but was up for adoption. We did not feel called to adopt him but I worried myself sick over what would become of him. I remember rocking and praying for a mama who would sing to him. Again, God was teaching me that our role was different for each child that would be placed in our care. Every child that came through our home was known to God. Our job is to be His instrument.<br /><br />About four months after we completed GPS training we got the call for our first placement. Most of the time you will get a call and then you'll need to meet someone or they'll bring the child to you that day or the next. This call was open ended because she was transitioning from another foster home. (Amber's Story) (Christian's Story)<br /><br />When my oldest left for college this past fall, I asked her if she was nervous. She said, "Mama, I'm going to college with no expectations". At the time I read fear all over that statement. As the year has played out I realized it was trust. She was ready to meet whatever God sent her way without telling Him what that would be. Because of that attitude she is completely content. If I could have two minutes with my pre-foster/adoptive self with her rose colored glasses, that's what I would say. Meet this calling with no expectations. Take the child that God gives you, and give your best to that child, whether that's for a day, a week or forever.Vandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15571446852370514296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929482384629348124.post-79382225282696071092011-03-17T12:29:00.000-07:002011-03-17T21:06:48.469-07:00I Will Not LieI will not lie. Some days I wonder what took a hold of us that we would think that we should adopt two more children. These feelings seem especially pronounced the older Braden gets. It would be easy about now. Braden will be thirteen on Easter Sunday. Anna will leave for college in the fall. Our house would be inhabited by one teenage boy who regularly withdraws to his room to read or goes to the pond to fish. Shawn and I crave evenings out...ALONE! Very typical for a couple our age. If we had not taken this path we would be down to one set of school activities. We would be free to make choices that do not involve consulting the master schedule. I will not lie. It would be easier.<br /><br />Instead, I look out my window to a familiar sight. One that has not changed much in nineteen years. There's a jungle gym, a wagon, my chair, two bicycles, a swimming pool, a swing set, a mound of sand with a stick stuck right in the middle. Inside the house, there are shoes in my kitchen floor that will warrant a good scolding in a few minutes but for now I imagine the sparkly things were slipped off while she was getting a cold drink after coming in from play. Never mind that I've told all of them at least twenty-thousand times to take their shoes off at the front door.<br />And then there are dreams. I have dreamed of going to Prince Edward Island for twenty years but it will have to wait as the little one I never dreamed would be mine is too attached to his mama. I will not lie. Sometimes I get tired of teaching and training, washing and cleaning.<br /><br />But the truth is, they're worth it!Vandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15571446852370514296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929482384629348124.post-42795841997134379152011-02-24T06:07:00.001-08:002013-01-25T10:05:19.367-08:00DaffodilsAs evident by my blog picture, I LOVE daffodils! A big 16x20 of the same picture hangs above my mantle. Mid-February, every single year, I begin the "daffodil watch"...just waiting for the first droopy pop of yellow. It's not spring that I'm waiting for. Fall is my all-time favorite season. It's the daffodils.<br />
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You'll see them growing in random fields with a naked spot in the center, the only reminder of the old home place. Sometimes there is still a weathered house with the daffodils standing true, the hands that planted them...long gone. Just last week we traveled the rural roads of Chilton and Perry counties to visit our daughter at the one hundred and seventy-five year old women's college that she attends. All along the way were patches of daffodils. Some were peeking out from behind old logs, others were gracing the fence row, all were a gentle reminder that we were not the first to pass this way. Maybe that's what the daffodils whisper to me, that someone before me cherished them too.<br />
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Braden came running back into the house this morning after I thought he had left for school. I was just about to fuss at him for slamming the glass door. He greeted me with the same charming smile he had as a four year old little boy and a single yellow daffodil. He gets it!Vandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15571446852370514296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929482384629348124.post-69427942729637204712011-02-10T14:05:00.000-08:002011-02-10T14:46:33.340-08:00Memory LaneAlmost eleven years ago I took a seven year old little girl to her first violin lesson. It happened to be on her birthday. We painted her fingernails and she picked out her favorite sun-dress. It was a beautiful print with over-sized garden vegetables in primary colors. She wore a big red bow in her chestnut hair. I will never forget the feeling of just knowing that this day really was something special. What I did not know was that we were meeting the woman who would have as much to do with shaping Anna's future and character as her daddy and I ever would.<br /><br />Eighty-one year old Mrs. Johnson greeted us with a heavy, German accent. Walking into her music room was like stepping into another dimension, a different era. Her wavy hair was coiffed into a style straight from the 1940's and her make-up was beautifully coordinated to her outfit. She quickly sized Anna up as "the cherub". The twinkle those bright blue eyes told us that the afternoon's pampering had paid off with a favorable first impression. For the next seven years the student mimicked the teacher.<br /><br />This evening I have the privilege of introducing my youngest daughter to this remarkable woman. From past experience we know that this is no ordinary day. Again I spent the afternoon preparing one of my little ones for one of the most important meetings of her life and a day that I hope she will never forget. Mrs. Johnson will teach her so much more than music, she will invest almost a century's worth of wisdom into yet another pupil who will insure that her legacy continues long after she's gone.Vandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15571446852370514296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929482384629348124.post-75690688426422039972011-02-05T14:55:00.000-08:002011-02-05T15:20:28.110-08:00It Feels Good to be MamaToday was a normal Saturday. Seven people with seven different agendas. I was up at dawn to take Braden to sell doughnuts for the youth group. Then we headed to the grandparents to get Amberly. She spent her first night away from home since her adoption. She was so obviously spoiled rotten by the time I picked her up that I seriously considered a no return policy, for the weekend at least! We had to stop by Piggly Wiggly to buy Popsicles with the $5.00 bribe that Nana gave her so she would leave. When we finally made it home, Shawn and I decided to sneak away for a couple of hours for a mid-day date. The little ones seemed in good spirits and Jana's home for the weekend so it seemed right. WRONG. We were in Walmart when we got the call that Nana and Papa's "little angel" had broken the door frame because she was mad at Anna, her least favorite sister since Jana left for college (misplaced separation anxiety). Our two hour date ends all too soon with the promise of two very upset sisters and a little boy who's behavior spiraled out of control. Once everyone was settled I sat down for a minute at the computer. I felt a weight on my arm and almost shrugged it off when I looked down and noticed that Christian had climbed up beside me and fallen asleep. Sometimes you just need Mama.<br /><br />I'm really thankful to be that today. For all of them. For the college student who has decided that she LOVES for me to take her to school instead of driving herself. For the senior who wants to be independent more than anything but still lays her head on my chest to hear my heartbeat when all's not right with her world. For the almost teenager who couldn't sell a single box of donuts until I demonstrated how he should approach a "would be doughnut buyer" by waltzing into the ethnic barbershop and startling them into buying a box...no questions asked. For the anxious little girl who is finally getting her feet wet. For the little boy who mercifully doesn't remember all of the bad things that would have made him anxious. It feels good to be Mama.Vandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15571446852370514296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929482384629348124.post-31567050430664988402011-01-19T09:39:00.000-08:002011-01-19T12:08:14.817-08:00Erskine Elwood Hand is my paternal grandfather and today he celebrates his 86th birthday! <br /><br />My favorite thing about him is his "chuckle". His health has been poor the last few years so most days you can find him in his chair in the living room. When someone walks into that room he greets them with that "chuckle" and a twinkle in his eye!<br /><br />Last night I saw a picture of him as a boy in 1932. It struck me how many familiar faces I see in one little boy's features. I immediately recognized traces of my own father peering back at me. The expression on his face hints of his grandson, Colton. We have always wondered where Jana got her distinctive cowlick, there it is in black and white. The purse of his lips has passed through three three generations. That single trait told me when my daddy was angry. My husband smiles when he notices that same intenseness in my lips and calls me Roger. A few months ago I was delighted to see that identifying family resemblance yet again in pictures my cousin posted of her beautiful little daughter.<br /><br />Happy Birthday, Pawpaw!Vandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15571446852370514296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929482384629348124.post-73839359077383377012011-01-08T20:47:00.001-08:002011-01-08T21:13:09.686-08:00RamblingO.k...so I'm writing this because Shawn asked why I haven't blogged in a while. Why? Because...the kids have been out of school for the holidays, we've been getting Anna ready for Junior Miss and basically my mind is just mush.<br /><br />So what's going on these days? My baby will be four on Tuesday. Monday night we're having an Auburn cake & cookie during the NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP game for his birthday. He's wearing his CAM jersey to church tomorrow. He's the fifth child so of course I'll let him. What's he about at "almost four"....Auburn, Toy Story, football, his Toy Story Guitar, Cam, football, trapping the kitten, his Aubie Pillowpet that Nana bought for him and his Auburn blanket his MawMaw crocheted for him. His favorite song of late is from <span style="font-style: italic;">Veggie Tales</span>, "My God is Bigger Than the Boogie Man". At this very moment he is break dancing to "Watch Me Do My Thang" on ESPN.<br /><br />For some reason the holidays wore me out this year. I guess I'm old or at least too old for this many children...My new year's resolutions? I have none. I'm just tired of lying to myself. At the very least one should strive to tell ones self the truth. I'm adopting Jana's college motto of "No Expectations". Instead, I'll just be thankful. Thankful for a husband who goes to work everyday whether he wants to or not and then walks through the door at night and looks for ways to make me happy. Thankful for daughters who are true blue and have never given us one minute of trouble. Thankful for my young daughter who has every right to be angry but tries her best not to be every minute of every day. Thankful for my sons who make me tired. Thankful for my messy house that is bursting from the life that lives inside it.<br /><br />Happy Birthday, Christian, Armya, Sarah and Aunt Lisa!<br /><br />Good Luck Annie!Vandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15571446852370514296noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929482384629348124.post-51144496473004498042010-12-03T00:04:00.000-08:002010-12-03T00:21:05.857-08:00Just Part of the PlanWe finished the project! It is so precious. Remember, we have no pictures from birth to two and a half. Well, we have one but she refused to use it. We're still debating on having it copied and cropped to just show her. We drew the time line. The first line stands for the day she was born. We made itty bitty feet print using her pinky finger prints and painted little toes. She loved it! At the bottom of the line we glued a flower pot and flower out of quilt themed scrapbook paper and put "It's a Girl" in the center of the flower. We added a poem that says "A family is like a patchwork quilt, gently sewn together. A family is meant to last all the years, a family is forever." The first picture is the picture that was taken of our family the night she came to live with us. As we were working she noticed that there were no pictures for the first two years and she asked me why. I told her that we didn't have any pictures other than the one with her birth mom. I asked her if she just wanted to write that she was in foster care. She said, "Foster care? (insert long pause to think)...MAN, I've lived a whole lot of life!" <br /><br />I choose to take this as a sign that she is finally making strides to a healthy place emotionally. My friend made a valid point. Amberly being our daughter WAS the plan.Vandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15571446852370514296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929482384629348124.post-22671975469275581672010-11-30T21:32:00.000-08:002010-12-03T00:21:57.774-08:00Growing PainsAmbelry has a project due for school. It is to be a poster board type project, a time line from birth to present. I guess to be honest I'm a little ticked. The story of her birth and adoption "is what it is" but sometimes I just wish for one minute of one day she didn't have to be reminded. She is a different race from those who love her the most so it's not something she can tuck deep in the family bible. Some adoption stories are just so miraculous and are truly meant to be shared for various reasons for encouragement and for ministry. Our ministry was foster care and her life story is a beautiful story of redemption. We're not in ministry anymore. We were called for a time that I believe was meant to lead us to the rest of our family. Now we are just that, a family. It's not that we have hid her beginnings from her. She remembers every horrible transition that we went through together. It took years to find a normal day. In thinking about this project I'm struggling with how much to share. Does she put her birth name? It's different now. She picked it out herself. We have one picture of her during her first two years. She was nine months old and her mother was holding her at a visit. She told me she didn't want to put it on the poster. Why? Is she worried about me? Is it confusing? Does she not want to answer questions? Probably all of the above. Maybe it's just something that she wants to keep for herself since she has to answer questions about her family almost every single day. We can't leave out her first two years. Birth is a basic human right. If we only had a single picture to put for birth to two this wouldn't be an issue. I know that these are just growing pains. If she were adopted in a traditional way I think it would have been easier to share about the wonderful way she came to our family. The fact is, she came to our family because she was neglected, abused and almost past the point of no return. I know the miracle that God did for her and for us. I'm still overcome with thankfulness at the most unexpected times but right now she's at such a good place. She is finally, for the most part a very carefree little girl.<br /><br />Adoption is such a personal thing. I adore the beauty of the whole plan. It's just as miraculous to me as birth. I've tried to share that wonder with all five of my children. I love to tell about the blessing of children when God gives me the opportunity. She's just eight. I just don't think it is fair to expect her to post all the details of her life in the hallway at school unless that's her choice. I just wish they would stick to reading, writing and arithmetic.<br /><br />It's due December 6th. We will learn from this and we'll figure out a beautiful way to share her story but Mama Bear just may have to figure out a way to make that trip down memory lane with her...all the way to the school.Vandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15571446852370514296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929482384629348124.post-71704252340841078182010-11-16T07:23:00.000-08:002010-11-16T12:40:05.014-08:00Here We Go...AGAIN!<img class="UIPhotoGrid_Image img" src="http://photos-a.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs942.snc4/73558_173482236011968_100000505795117_589724_261842_s.jpg" onload="this.fb_loaded = true;" title="" /><br /><br />It seems like just yesterday I was taking the scenic drive down the winding country roads to Junior Day at the college that Jana now calls home. There just aren't words for the shock of realizing that you have a child ready to leave for college. Everyday moments and the many big events of her senior year were marked with "this is it" or "last time". I just couldn't wrap my brain around the fact that we were here already. I knew it was coming, but I didn't know it would be at lighting speed!<br /><br />Anna is a senior this year and for the most part, at least in the everyday things, I have been spared from being blind sided. I knew this was coming. I didn't cry on senior picture day. I didn't have a pit in my stomach the first day of school. I'm actually very excited for her because I know that God has many wonderful things in store. College preparations have been smooth. I've cherished the everyday moments because I know that this is the only time I will ever have with her as my oldest still living at home. I'm good.<br /><br />NOT!!!<br /><br />Scholarship Day at college was this past Saturday. We took the same winding roads and this time we were not alone. Anna's best friend who happens to be her cousin and her mom went with us for the testing and tours. This didn't start out as a particularly nostalgic day as the college was not first choice for either of the girls. We basically went because we love Jana and did not want to dismiss the place that is so much a part of who she is. We parked the van and with our usual very loud girly chatter we all got out to go register at Jewitt Hall. I turned around to say something to Robin and the very moment I didn't expect to have slipped up on me! Walking a few feet ahead were the two girls who have been best friends since they were side by side on a quilt in Nana's floor. Their heads were leaned in toward one another in the way it always is when they are walking and talking. The were nonchalantly taking their first steps away from us.<br /><br />Why did I think I would be immune from the jolt of the beginning of the end of her girlhood. This child, the one I have spent thousands of hours with on the road to violin lessons, rehearsals and functions. The talks, the secret fast food fixes, the arguments, the she sleeps and I drive, the mass of curls across the seat, her hazel eyes so full of whatever she feels that day. To have her look at me and say, "Mama, this is it. I feel safe here" and to know that she is so independent she would never have said it if something hadn't taken hold of her will. She was the one who was moving to New York and never getting married, the one who swore she'd never give me grandchildren. But there she stood ready to be obedient to any change in her plans if that's what He wanted of her.<br /><br />We're here again. This is our last Christmas with our beautiful, strong-willed second born before she only lives here half of the time. I knew it was coming, but I didn't know it would be at lighting speed!Vandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15571446852370514296noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929482384629348124.post-31974835849368970652010-10-29T07:14:00.001-07:002010-10-29T07:26:34.160-07:00What I love about....Jana...she left us all for college and she's having the time of her life. I love that she is strong and poised and confident. She sees beauty in everyone. She makes up her mind to do something and she does it...even if that something isn't the norm. She looks like a cowboy/girl on a horse! I love the shape of her face when she smiles. You can see strength.<br /><br />Anna...her messy up do that has become her signature style. I love her heart that belongs only to one. She argues and knows she's right. She plays music with her heart and not her mind. The twinkle in her hazel eyes. That she's not ashamed to let me fill out most of her college paperwork. She'll be a good boss one day.<br /><br />Braden...that his eyes speak. He's so handsome he takes my breath if he looks at me just right. I can't wait to see his wife on their wedding day. I love that the little boy who seemed so insecure struggles with vanity. He rides a horse like the cowboy he is and is proud of the bruises.<br /><br />Amberly...her dimples and her dark skin. Her skin used to be so difficult and now when it's moisturized I just want to touch her. I love her athletic build. I wish she had the confidence that Jana does. The great thing about being the fourth child...your mama realizes that time heals.<br /><br />Christian...his eyes crinkle when he smiles. He has charm down to an art form. He loves me almost as much as his daddy does. He calls me mama doll. His beautiful brown skin. His build, he's just like his daddy and has a mole in the same place as Amberly. His hero is his brother and Cam Newton and Javae. I love that he has heros.<br /><br />Shawn...he loves me like Mr. Rochester loved Jane Eyre. He touches my face on an ordinary day. Though he's last on the list, he's first in my heart.Vandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15571446852370514296noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929482384629348124.post-34510037910821452642010-10-26T10:02:00.000-07:002010-10-26T10:20:36.121-07:00These are a Few of My Favorite Things (about Fall)1. My handcrafted chenille pumpkin made from 1940's chenille. My sister-in-law Robin and I bought one several years ago in Gatlinburg, Tennessee from a local craft vendor. We were already over our mini-vacation budget but we each splurged a whole $16.00! It is my single favorite possession and it adorns the center of my dining room table every year from September until November. I have been known to work it into the Christmas decor!<br /><br />2. Pumpkin scented candles on my mantel.<br /><br />3. The horses that stand under the same tree in the pasture straight across from my front glass door. It seems like they only stand in this spot in the fall.<br /><br />4. The color orange.<br /><br />5. ...and blue. WAR EAGLE!!!<br /><br />6. Chili & Potato Soup with cheese and onions.<br /><br />7. The kids play outside for hours on end.<br /><br />8. Hearing their laughter through the window.<br /><br />9. ROLLING!!!<br /><br />10. Watching the shows about haunted places on t.v.Vandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15571446852370514296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929482384629348124.post-10702848080084164532010-10-22T06:07:00.000-07:002010-10-22T07:05:51.377-07:00Who I Want to BeJoyce Christine Connell Horton was my maternal grandmother. I have not seen her face for over eighteen years but her presence is still so strong in my life. I think of her when my daughter comes home from college and my heart leaps, when my friend is mourning yet another lost loved one, when I dream of my grandchildren. All of the ways that I love come from the way that she lived. I, along with many others, thought that I was her absolute favorite! I don't have any illusions that she was perfect. She could gossip with the best of them and she would argue with herself. She had demons in her past, things she never got over.<br /><br />I remember her cooking for days before the holidays, filling her freezer and counters for seven children, their spouses and twenty-five grandchildren. If someone passed away, she was the first one in the kitchen cleaning and cooking and taking care of everything behind the scenes. In her spare time she crocheted. She had counted stitches for so many years that her lips kept time long after she she quit counting. She had boxes of little baby shoes, caps and blankets that were ready to gift at the mention of a babyshower!<br /><br />When I was expecting my oldest child I spent many hours thinking about the kind of mother I wanted to be. I made conscious decisions based on examples from mothers that I admired, including my own. I'm coming to a different place in my life and once again there are choices to be made. I want to love like my grandmother. I want my children to choose their mates based on the love they see at home because settling would be out of the question. I want to always be aware of the leap in my heart when my children come home again. I want to prepare scrumptious feasts to celebrate them so that they will always want to come home. I want my friends to know that I love them and that I'm there when they can't be strong. I want to play favorites with all that I hold dear. That's who I want to be.<br /><br />Titus 2:4 that they admonish the younger women to love their husbands, to love their children...Vandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15571446852370514296noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929482384629348124.post-40543612171986394702010-10-18T14:22:00.000-07:002010-10-19T12:30:09.730-07:00My SonTwelve years ago God answered my earnest prayers. He gave me what I asked of Him, a beautiful little boy. Braden followed a miscarriage and is five and six years younger than his sisters. S-P-O-I-L-E-D!!! The "new" soon wore off for his sisters! He was just far enough behind them in age to be a major P-E-S-T!!! He is 5th in line of cousins on both sides of the family and not the first boy on either side. Although everyone loves him very much, he probably doesn't ever feel like he is anyone's favorite. Factor in two adopted younger siblings and the fact that he gave up his spot as youngest for that of the middle child. Since he was old enough to walk I think I have been sensitive to these things for him. I've prayed for a close boyhood pal and have been disappointed that just one doesn't really stand out. I think the main thing that I've longed for and prayed for him is that he would feel really special to someone.<br /><br />My prayed for little boy is growing fast into a young man! In early August I took him to seventh grade orientation. As we were walking in I noticed a couple of boys standing alone on the walkway. They were the cool kids and they were peering at everyone that walked by. My heart ached a bit that he would probably never be accepted by them. They didn't speak and we walked on. Coming toward us was a grandmother with a boy about my son's age. The grandmother looked tired and unkempt and the young man walked a little further ahead with his head kept down low. Braden said in passing, "Hi, Criag". I stopped short as I watched the smile on that boy's face as he raised his head and said hello back. A few minutes later we went to meet his new teacher. This time a girl was sitting with her mother. I noticed immediately that she was very anxious. Again, my son said hello and called the young lady by name. A smile lit up a shy but pretty face. I can't count the people that my son spoke too that day. He did not see social class or beauty or coolness. He saw people.<br /><br />I don't pray for him in the same way anymore. While I was praying for him to have a close friend, he was making friends with everyone. When my selfish mother's heart was worried about him feeling special to someone, he was using his boyish good looks and charm to make others feel that they mattered.Vandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15571446852370514296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929482384629348124.post-42512796139528494642010-10-06T08:51:00.000-07:002010-10-06T08:57:09.382-07:00Christian's PrayerThis morning I was standing in the kitchen and Christian said, "Mama did you pray for Braden's football team?" I said, "No honey, I didn't pray for them today...but you can". He stopped what he was doing, dropped his little head and this is what he prayed, "Dear Lord, please help Braden's football team and let them win a game. Please be with Jana today when she takes her test. Please make Rosalee stop biting PawPaw in the head. Please help Braden's team win a trophy and I love you and thank you." <br /><br />Braden's team may not win this year, but if there's a chance, I'll bet it's this Saturday! Rosalee is a HORSE!Vandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15571446852370514296noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929482384629348124.post-7463275195210920772010-10-02T09:22:00.000-07:002010-10-02T09:31:01.951-07:00Today is a pretty typical fall Saturday for our family. Jana is on her way back to college a little early for a play that the upperclassmen are putting on. Anna is headed south for a band competition (I'm soon to follow). Daddy is staying home with the little one until Braden's football game. Amberly gets to spend time with grandparents tonight and watch some Bama football. Christin is tagging along to his brother's football game because in his own words, "that's my brother" and he's hoping to sneak onto the sidelines. It's a juggling act every single day! I'm trying so hard to slow down and remember that "I'm gonna miss this"!Vandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15571446852370514296noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929482384629348124.post-54286524309884827182010-09-29T16:07:00.001-07:002010-09-29T16:27:04.882-07:00One day till grocery day MEAL!I have four hungry mouths (not bad compared to our usual seven) to feed. It's 5:20 and for some reason I just didn't plan anything for dinner??? Mama said there would be days like this...I have in my cupboard various cans of veggies, one box of hamburger helper and rice. In the freezer I have two hamburger patties. Times like this is when I realize that we really house and grow piranha. If it's edible, it's gone. I browned the two hamburger patties, mixed in the hamburger helper and a drained a can of vegall. I cooked the rice and topped it with our cool beef and veggie blend. The little ones think they are eating gumbo and we'll have leftovers for lunch tomorrow. <br /><br />Fall is in the air! As much as it can be in the deep south. Amberly and Christian have recently discovered "mud pies" and have spent the last two days outside literally playing in the dirt. A delightful break from their normal after school chaos. There are so many things to worry about but my sweet hubby reminded me this week of the words to one of his favorite songs, "Beautiful Boy"...<span style="font-style: italic;">Life is what happens when you are busy making other plans.</span> These simple days are <span style="font-style: italic;">life.</span>Vandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15571446852370514296noreply@blogger.com0