Little Red Riding Hood

Tonight, 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. 

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. 

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. 

Shadow Mama

Surreal. 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".

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.

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.

Just Part of the Plan

We 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!"

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.

Growing Pains

Ambelry 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.

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.

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.

Family are the ones you hold close to your heart

This is my first attempt at blogging and I'm so excited! I am so inspired by the blogs that I follow daily, especially the blogs of moms from large families!

I am married to the man that God designed especially for me. I remember the night over twenty five years ago that I stood outside under the stars and prayed for my future husband. I knew that God was protecting him for me. The sweetness of our marriage is a blessing that I am especially thankful for. We celebrated our twentieth year this past May.

We have five beautifully unique children. I LOVE the way that God gave us each gift. We believe that children are a truly a "gift from the Lord". Our oldest daughter is 17. She was born after two and a half years of infertility and she was answer to a lifetime of prayers! Her name means "cherished one". To this day the word cherish describes how we feel about her perfectly. She is an excellent daughter and I am holding on so tightly to the years that I have left with her. Our next daughter arrived as a complete surprise and full of spunk exactly seventeen months after her sister. She is passionate. Passionate for Christ, passionate in her love for her violin and passionate in all that she does. I can't imagine a day without her unique insights. Four years later and after a painful miscarriage, the son that I asked God for was finally ours to hold. He had a rough start with a premature birth but I knew that he was an answer to prayer and that God would sustain him. He did! He is a strong, strapping eleven year old with a mature insight into faith. He's opinionated and sometimes argumentative but working very hard to learn to be a man.

This is where our life story takes an unexpected turn. Our family was called to the ministry of foster care. We never DREAMED that God would expect this of us, but we are so humbled that He did. Our daughter was with us for three years before she was available for adoption. I have so much to write about this in later posts. But for now, we are very thankful for her, love her and can't wait to see how her story turns out. Our final addition to our family is not yet complete...however, we've loved him, held him and adored him for the past two and a half years. As soon as TPR is finalized we will proceed with his adoption. I remember thinking one day almost three years ago, "I wonder if I have a child being born somewhere at this minute". Now I see that the Holy Spirit was whispering to me that my son had just took his first breath. In a way I feel like I was more "there" than if I had been there. Five and a half months after that experience, he was placed in my arms for the first time. He looked right into my eyes and relaxed and I knew that he was ours.

I look forward to this opportunity to share my life and my faith and hopefully encourage someone who might be struggling with their responsibilities, their calling or their faith.

Vanda