sunshine

(my beautiful girls. first and third grade.)

My children are incredibly happy that we are moving home.

It's sort of ridiculous how happy they are, but I get it. Because I feel the exact same way. Most afternoons and evenings these past two weeks have been spent working on our new nest, which means that we don't see our children from the moment we park the car until the moment that it is time to leave. They are off running, exploring, playing with friends, poking holes in the ground with a big stick (That would be Jack. I don't understand boys.), covering their bodies in dirt. And they come back to our new nest when the sun is setting low. Exhausted, smiling, and in desperate need of a bath. And I think to myself what a beautiful childhood they are living. And while I know this season of childhood will not last forever, I desperately pray that the beautiful part does.

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I have shared before that the early years of my own childhood were beautiful. Idyllic, even. Family, friends, holidays, swimming, snow cones, dance lessons. I had seven years of sunshine. And I am grateful for the fact that the beginning of my story was strong. After seven years of working in the foster care world, I know that is not always the case. Many children only know darkness, so I will forever be thankful for the years where the sun shined brightly in my life. But the rain clouds were coming.

We moved to Texas when I was eight years old. We moved to the pink house, where our family would live until I headed off to college. I started second grade at Jane Long Elementary school and second grade was good. Second grade was where I fell in love with writing. With words. And I knew then that I wanted to change a small piece of the world through the writing of my words. Someday. Somehow.

But then came third grade, and along with it the first darkness in my life. In third grade I learned that children can be cruel. I learned that fitting in was more important than finding myself. Blending in better than becoming who God created me to be. Third grade was where I felt for the very first time in my life that perhaps God had made a mistake when he made me. In third grade there was no sunshine. I started to feel ill. All the time. And while I now know it was anxiety and depression induced, at the time it felt real. Nine years old and living began to feel too hard. I missed school more than I attended, and it was then that I learned the unhealthy habit of running away when life began to feel too overwhelming. Third grade started me down a path of darkness, and it would be years before I would be brave enough to let my light shine once more.

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So I look at my daughters, one of them the very same age I was when the darkness came, and the sunshine they still have makes my soul sing. To be honest,  one of the reasons we home school is to keep the sun shining in our children's lives for as long as is humanly possible. Or to keep the Son shining. Really, it's one in the same. My children do not live in a bubble. Living alongside foster children has taught them that there is pain and darkness in this world. But there has yet to be extreme pain and darkness in their world. I know it will eventually come. I am not naive. But my prayer is that when the darkness does come, my children are able to be rooted and strong. Rooted in God's Word and strong in their faith, so that they will not be easily swayed by the words and opinions of others.

Childhood can be cruel. It can be crushing. But it can also be beautiful. It can be sisters, and swing sets, and summer, and sunshine. And that is the gift that I want to give to my daughters. It is my prayer that the Son will always shine brightly in their lives. That even through the rain clouds life brings their way, that their lights would still shine. That is my prayer for these beautiful daughters of mine.

Life Lately

 

So lately, the words just aren't coming. And it's certainly not because I don't have anything to say. I am fairly certain that I always have something to say! Yet, I sit down to write and the words don't come tumbling out as they usually do. Just as the world around me is beginning to turn inward as the weather cools, my thoughts seem to be turning inward as well. So I remain quiet, letting the thoughts soak within. And I think that maybe sometimes, the sitting quiet can be a good thing. Even when there is much to be said.

Life is good here on Fieldcrest Lane. I have so very much to be thankful for. I see tragedy all around on a daily basis, and the thankfulness for the life I lead multiplies. I have a husband who works harder than anyone else that I know. He loves me in spite of my imperfections. He still wants to take me on dates and he never leaves in the morning without kissing each of us goodbye. I lie in bed and listen as he makes his rounds and my heart feels happy. I have an older daughter who is brilliantly smart and witty. I enjoy the person she is becoming, growing every day before my very eyes. She is a wonderful, helpful, servant to her siblings. I am blessed that she loves and enjoys serving our family. My younger daughter has twinkly eyes and a contagious laugh. She makes our home happy and cheerful! She is a snuggler and is always good for a hug. And my son, oh my goodness, has he ever stolen my heart! He is such a funny little guy! Yet he still needs to hold a hand to fall sleep, just like his mama did at his age. And now I have a fourth little pumpkin who is never far from my heart or my prayers. We are now in our ninth week, one week farther along than we made it in my pregnancy at the beginning of this year. And I am starting to allow myself to hope that just maybe I will be holding this little one in my arms next May! And add to the blessing of my family a warm house, food on the table, and good friends, and life on this earth just doesn't get much better than that. But it can still be tricky.

To be honest, I feel a bit lost. When I entered my thirties three months ago (it gets easier to say all of the time!), I held a different plan for my life in my head and in my heart. We had said goodbye to the dream of more babies grown in my womb, and we were ready to say hello to the dream of serving foster babies. And while I am UNBELIEVABLY thankful for this new life... now what? What is our family supposed to look like now? Can I possibly do both, mothering my four as well as those who are in need of a mother? Does God want me to step forward in faith? Or is this new little pumpkin pulling me back in for another season? I don't have the answers, so I wrestle with the thoughts. And that is where I struggle. With releasing my life to God no matter which direction he takes it, yet still humanly clinging to the hope that he chooses a direction I like. But I suppose that's not really releasing then, is it?

Last week my children visited a corn maze with their grandparents, a favorite fall activity in our family. I was feeling a bit nauseous that afternoon, so I sat on a bench where I could feel the breeze while the rest of my family ventured inside. But it got me to thinking. In a corn maze there are many twists and turns. So many different directions one can choose to head off in! Sometimes you get it right and find yourself someplace new, yet other times you look up only to discover you have backtracked and you are in the exact same place that you just came from. So you have a choice.You can sit there, refusing to move forward in case you get it wrong, or you can get up and try again. Working with the turns, putting one foot in front of the other, never giving up until you reach your goal.

After about an hour had passed I began to hear my children's voices, so I began to call out to them, to urge them forward.

This way, kids!

Mama is waiting for you!

You can do it!

I am so proud of you for all of your efforts and for never giving up!

I kept calling to them until they began to stumble out of the maze red faced, stained knees, yet still smiling. They had not given up, even when things had seemed difficult, confusing, and unclear. They pressed forward until they reached their goal.

And isn't it that way with life? So many different directions we can head in. So many dreams, different ways of doing things. And sometimes life can get confusing. We think we are heading in one direction, only to look up half way through our journey to see that we are right back where we started. Or perhaps we aren't back where we started, but we are in a different place all together than we thought we would be. And we find ourselves with the same choice. Sit down and quit... or keep going? So tonight I choose to keep going, even though I have no clue the direction I am headed. But I picture my Father's voice cheering me on, so I step forward in faith, trusting he will clear a pathway through this crazy thing called life.

This way, Kendra!

I am waiting for you!

You can do it!

I am so proud of you for all of your efforts and for never giving up!

Can you hear him shouting the very same to you? I bet if you listen closely enough you can hear him calling you a step forward each day of your journey, too. Carefully guiding us all along the pathway home. So don't give up! And don't give in. Just look up, and keep pressing forward.

Well lookee there. Turns out I did find a few words, after all.

Happy at Home: In an Instant

 

It's funny how your life can change in an instant.

 

One week ago I was the proud mama of three beautiful children. And even more importantly, I was content with that number. The Z Three was beginning to roll comfortably off the tip of my tongue, without the familiar ache of wanting 'more' that had been known to follow in previous months. I was happy. I had made peace with the family that God had blessed me with.

 

One week ago I was dreaming of tiny little foster babies. We were in the process of switching foster care agencies (the transfer to be completed this very week), and I was counting down the days until we would receive 'the call'. The call that would change our lives for a few months, days, or maybe years. Or possibly even forever. And I was excited to feel called to the ministry. I felt as though God had been preparing me for that calling for years and I was ready to serve. We all were.

 

One week ago Boss and I were planning a ten year wedding anniversary cruise for next May. Sans children. We went on a cruise for our honeymoon and we thought it would make for a nice ten year tradition. We were excited to reach such a big milestone in our marriage (a whole decade!) and we somewhat felt as if we were approaching that next stage in life. The stage with more sleep and less diapers. And we were content.

 

One week ago I was practicing the art of learning to be happy at home. It might seem sad that one would have to practice something like that. But it's where I was. Because the truth is, even though it was exhausting me, I enjoyed all of the running around. Running around, being out in the world, it was exciting! So much more exciting than cooking, and cleaning, and laundry, and wiping little noses. So I made it a habit to keep myself busy. To keep myself distracted from the mundane. But slowly, over the past few months, God's Word had been nudging me back towards home. But one week ago I was still fighting it. So I was planning trips and prepping for foster care. I was doing all of this from home, but in my mind I was still running. I was home in body, but I was not home in spirit. My heart and wants were still elsewhere.

 

And then six days ago, my life changed in a single instant.

 

We had not been trying to conceive, so I had not been paying attention to the signs. But once the thought crossed my mind? I knew. I just knew. And when the test read positive? It was pure joy. Automatic pure joy! I remember crying and saying thank you God. Thank you God, thank you God, thank you God. And my life has not been the same since.

 

Today I am the proud mama of FOUR beautiful children. Today I am so thankful that there will be the 'more' that I didn't even realize that I still wanted. Today I am happy and at peace. Today I am so very thankful that God's ways, and God's timing, far surpass my own.

 

Today I don't know where we stand with foster care. Today I am okay with the fact that I don't know.

 

Today I am not sad that there will not be a ten year anniversary cruise in May. Because now, Lord willing, I have better plans.

 

Today, in this very moment, my heart is happy at home.  I realized tonight, as my son did 'shows' for us after dinner and I laughed so hard until I cried, that there is no where else on earth that is better suited for me. All five of us were piled on the couch snuggling, with Jack pouting about not having enough room, when Emma said, just wait until next year! Because next year our couch will be even more full. But as Boss quickly pointed out, there will ALWAYS be enough room for one more. And you know what? To me, that's exactly what home is. All of us piling inside of these walls. Sharing laughter and tears. Joys and sorrows. All of us learning, and growing, and extending grace. Knowing in our hearts that there is always room for one more. There is always enough love to go around.

 

Today my body is alive with this tiny one that is growing inside of me. My whole body feels it, a constant reminder that God is still at work. A reminder that God is always there, even in the seasons where we cannot seem to find him. He is the master weaver, weaving the intricate strands of our lives together in his own timing. And when we get a small glimpse of the work he is doing?

 

Our lives change in an instant. And we find the encouragement and hope needed to continue pressing on.

 

 

 

 

 



Falling in Love With Foster Care

One of our foster daughters. Falling in love with her was easy.
Photo by Heather Matthews Photography.

I remember the exact moment that I first fell in love with foster care. It was the same day that I met a foster family for the very first time, so I suppose you could say it was love at first sight. I was nearing junior high school when the Bryan family moved to town. They pulled up in front of our church in a 15 passenger van and I couldn't help but stare. They had four biological children, four adopted children, and a slew of foster children. And I thought that their family was beautiful, all different ages, different colors, different backgrounds coming together to form one family. My heart changed that day, and it has never been the same since.

The Bryan's had a biological daughter who was my age and we became fast friends. It wasn't long before I was spending as much time as I could at their house, loving on babies, helping to feed and bathe as much as I was allowed. I remember two of their little foster kids in particular, Travis and Ashley Valentine. I remember feeling sad that they didn't have a mommy or daddy to take care of them or tuck them in at night. And while the Bryan house was safe, loving, and warm, it was also quite busy with lots of little children who needed loving, and I remember wanting to run away with the Valentine kids. I begged and begged my parents to go through the necessary training to become foster parents. I promised them that if only they would get the license, then I would love and raise the children! Ha! Funny, but my parents always turned that plan down. So I just spent as much time with the Bryan's as I could, watching them and learning from them as they opened their home to care for and love others.

Fast forward to when Boss and I were first married. We talked long (okay, I talked and Boss listened) about what we wanted our family to look like. We both agreed that we didn't want average or ordinary. We knew we wanted our family to be used by God to help and serve others, in whatever form that took, and for the past (almost) seven years we were able to accomplish that through house parenting/therapeutic foster parenting teenage girls. But now we have started on a new journey. A journey, a dream, that began in my heart so many years ago when I first fell in love with foster care and has grown by leaps and bounds every single day since. And I seriously CANNOT wait to hold that first little one in my arms!

Upon leaving the children's home last May, we opted to still work with their agency through their off campus foster care program, mainly because it would be easier. We already had good working relationships with the employees there. My caseworker was (is) my friend. We wouldn't have to switch any of our files, or lose previously earned training hours, or get new fingerprints. We had a comfortable relationship with that agency and we really wanted to make it work, while knowing that it would be a long shot, as that particular agency is known in our area for serving teens with tough behaviors. And we were now interested in serving little ones. But my boss thought that if we put it out there, letting the surrounding county's know that we had a crib/bed open for a young child/toddler/infant, that perhaps a call would come in even though it wasn't the norm. So we decided to go for it.

We spent this past summer getting our new house in order, organizing bedrooms, completing all the necessary inspections. And then we anxiously began waiting for the call. Our call. But so far, it hasn't come. In the beginning, I felt like a woman who was nine months pregnant, just waiting for the moment when labor would spontaneously begin. Knowing that it could happen at any given moment, but having no control whatsoever on when that moment would come. Wondering every single day upon waking if today was going to be the day. I stared at my phone like a mad woman the entire first week that we were listed, constantly checking to see if I had missed a call. But the call never came, and life went on. And today we are still waiting. And the waiting is getting harder with each passing day, knowing there are little ones out there that need a safe, loving place to rest their sweet heads, while our spare bed/crib sits here empty. So I'm feeling quite strongly that we need to do something, anything, and we are currently looking into other agencies.

I have connected with another private agency in our area that is very reputable and tells me that they get handfuls of referrals daily. I have also looked into switching our license over to our county agency, but so far Boss and I have not made any final decisions. While we have been in the adoption/foster care world for going on seven years now, all of this is new to us, and frankly, it all feels a bit overwhelming. I am told the process of switching a license takes four to six weeks, so if we do decide to switch, it now looks like it will be October (at the very earliest) before we could possibly be listed to receive a call once again. And while I am starting to feel anxious and frustrated, wanting desperately to serve and love kids as soon as possible, I am positive that when we do get our first foster child (and we will), it will undoubtedly be worth the wait. Most good things in life usually are. I completely believe that God began working on my heart all those years ago when the Bryan's first came into my life, creating in me a deep love for children in the foster care system, and I completely believe that He will see us through this entire process until we are serving fully in the foster care world.

If you have any experience with foster care I would love to hear from you. Do you prefer private agencies over county? Pros and con's of both? How long did you have to wait for your first call? And if you have no experience with foster care, we would still covet your prayers. Our family prays daily for the little ones that will come our way, and we are hopeful that one day soon we will finally be able to pray for them by name.

A New Direction

As we have begun to get settled into our new home, I often find myself wandering from room to room looking for what needs to be changed here or what furniture should be moved there. One of my most favorite rooms is our new nursery, also known as Jack's room. When I first began decorating the nursery in my mind sometime after the first of the year, I was newly pregnant with our fourth baby. It was too soon in my pregnancy to know whether the little one inside of me would be another sister or a new baby brother, but of course I could not wait to find out the sex to begin decorating and purchasing items for the room, so I decided to go with a color scheme that would suit little boys and little girls.  I spent many hours on Pinterest and finally decided on what I wanted. Light tan walls with thick marshmallow stripes. A bright orange closet for housing favorite books and toys. A small white toddler bed for Jack, with polka dot bedding in orange, green, blue, red, and grey. Colorful Chinese party lanterns would hang above his bed for a burst of happy. We would keep his little black bookcase with the antique picture window hanging above it. I thought that maybe one day I would fill the slots of that window with some cheerful manners cards that I found on Etsy. The last piece of furniture to live in that room would be a small white crib, complete with a tan and white stripped sheet (to match the walls) and an orange crib skirt, perfect for housing a new brother or sister.

Because Boss is so super great, over the last several months, he has made Jack's room look exactly as I had envisioned in my head. It is happy, and bright, and cheerful, and every time I walk by the door I can't help but smile. The only thing missing of course, is the baby that I miscarried last February. Many times over the last several months as we worked on the house prior to moving in, I would stare at that crib and wonder what we should do with it. Should we get rid of it? Give it to someone else who was expecting a new baby? Or should we try again for another baby of our own? What was its purpose going to be in our new home? The purpose of the crib was something that I prayed about often. While the sadness over my miscarriage was gone, I felt no peace either way about what to do next.

When I first discovered I was pregnant with baby number four, I was elated. In all my life I have never felt as much joy as I did when I was carrying our fourth baby for those eight weeks. Being the Mama to four was a dream come true, and I thought for sure that once we were able to try again that I would want to. But that time came and went, and something held me back. Surprisingly it was not fear that held me back this time (for once in my life), but a lack of peace instead. I did not have peace about trying for another baby, no matter how much I thought that I wanted it. During my miscarriage I had asked God to give me 'new eyes' with which to see the world around me and my purpose in it, and somewhere along the way my vision for our empty white crib changed.

I actually remember the very first day that I knew what I wanted to do with our empty crib. I was walking around the beautiful campus of the children's home, and I was thinking about our upcoming move and what life would look like there. I pictured each room of our new home and tried to see in my mind our family living there. When I began picturing the nursery, the crib was there, only this time it was not empty. This time it held a little baby. A precious little foster baby. And when I pictured that, I smiled. That was exactly what I wanted to do with our little white crib, in our cheerful little nursery which I had carefully decorated to be suited for both baby boys and baby girls. I wanted to use our crib for babies (one at a time) to lay their heads in when they needed a place of comfort and safety in their lives, whether it be for a short season or a long one. I had long ago joked that I wanted to be a Baby Mama (a Mama to many babies), and I figured my new plan for our crib fit the Baby Mama bill pretty well. And most importantly, this new plan I was contemplating brought with it a huge amount of peace.

So we began to talk about fostering babies as a family. After a few discussions Boss, surprisingly, was on board, and so were the children, and we have continued to pray about it over the past few months. The first thing we ultimately decided on (as a family), was that we would not open up our home until the end of the summer when Boss heads back to work (yes, having a spouse who works in education and has summers off is AWESOME). This summer is for family fun, loving on our kids, and pouring everything that we have into both them and each other. But when the summer has come to an end, we will head off in our new direction.

I know some will think we are crazy. I have already gotten that response when I have told others about our new fostering decision, and I honestly expected that. After all, we just left behind a job where we cared for others and welcomed them into our family, so that we could focus more on our core unit of five. I kind of thought we were crazy for even discuusing it, too. But after much thought and prayer, what I realized, is that what we left behind was our crazy, busy, often hectic, hormonal teenager lifestyle. We did not leave behind our desire to love and serve others. Opening my home to children who don't have one is part of who I am. It is just going to look a bit different this time around.

This time around, we will be in our own home, not working as part of a group. This time around, my own children's birth order will not change (this was something that Emma expressed as being important to her). This time around, we will only take birth to two years (I was honestly shocked that there was a NEED for families who were willing to take infants in our area, as I figured all of those sweet ones would already be snatched up!), and this time around, we will only serve one child at a time (as opposed to five or six). And if we need to take breaks between placements? We can do that. And most importantly, along the way, we will continually be gaging our birth children's spirits to see how they are feeling about our ministry. Their opinions are super important to us, so we always include them in these types of choices we make that effect our entire family. So far, they are very happy and excited! In preparing for our move, I separated and washed all of our baby things 2T and under, and the girls helped me. We talked a lot about the little ones who might come our way and wear the tiny clothes we were folding. I am so proud of my children's open and caring hearts!

I will be honest here and say that sometimes I want to chicken out. Life on our own has been so stupendously nice, and sometimes I don't want it to end. On the mornings that I get to sleep in, I think about how I might have to soon get up with an infant, and I feel tired just thinking about it. But even after all of these months, the peace that I found when deciding to foster little ones has never wavered. It keeps me anchored in our decision. I kind of think that fostering is my love language to the world. Some people take care of the homeless, some volunteer, some teach Bible classes, some donate money, and me? I foster. It is my thing. It is our families thing. And while it might take on different shapes as our family grows, ages and changes over the years, I do believe that it will always be a part of who we are in one way or another. Our small way to make a difference in this great big world. A way we can say thank you to God, by sharing the love and the family that He blessed us with. Anything less than that doesn't feel right.

Sometimes, late at night after everyone else is asleep, I go into Jack's room and pray for the tiny ones who might sleep in that crib after Jack has outgrown it. I wonder what they will look like, and as hesitant as I sometimes feel, I can honestly say that I am so very excited! We will begin the process to transfer our license over here to our new home the week after next, and sometime in late summer/fall we hope to receive our first call. New directions can be scary, but I figure most beautiful and worthwhile things in life usually are. So I have decided to trump any and all fear with faith, because this is the story that He is writing for us, and I have peace that it  is going to be a good one.

Roots

They say that history repeats itself.

And I have long wondered why, though I have seen this theory become a reality more times than I care to count. Because my world, the foster care world, is much like a circle. The cycle really having no end. Individuals and families constantly struggling to rise up out of the dirt. People not believing they can be more than their pasts.

And while I have not lived in this world for long, I have seen enough to know that it is true. If we are not careful enough, if we do not fight hard enough both for and with them, history will repeat itself. The cycle will continue.

Because it has continued before my very eyes, and I have felt helpless to stop it. Out of the thirty-eight children we have served in the last six years, nine, so far, have gone on to have children of their own. And out of those nine, six have already had their children removed from them for one reason or another. For some of them, their children were removed for the very same reasons they were removed from their parents years before. History was repeated, and the cycle has continued.

And I have struggled to make sense of this in my mind.

As a dreamer, I am constantly looking forward. Pushing forward. To stay stuck, to remain the same, that is my worst nightmare. Never moving forward is not an option for me. I can {possibly} understand not moving forward if you have no other options. But to choose to let it happen, to allow history to repeat itself, this I have struggled to understand. So I began praying for wisdom and searching for answers. Searching for clues. Anything to open my eyes. Anything to help me understand.

Today my understanding came in the form of a science lesson. My oldest daughter is studying the plant world. Specifically, she is learning about roots. I had her read aloud to me as I sat across from her sipping my diet coke.

The roots hold the plant very tightly in the soil. When the seed begins to grow, it first pushes out a tiny root. The little root looks like a string.

It might not look very strong, but the tip of the root is very hard. The tip of the root pushes and twists its way through the soil as it grows.

As the plant grows taller, the roots reach deeper into the soil. The roots must grow longer to hold the bigger plant in place.
( A BEKA Grade 2 Enjoying God's World Science Reader)

And as realization set in, I had my daughter read those same words aloud to me once more. I closed my eyes and let them sink in. And I finally began to understand.

Roots.

History repeats itself because of roots. One small, simple word with such profound meaning. Think of a flower. All we can see is the outside. We see the beauty, the color, the worth, the potential. We see the stem of the flower. Our eyes take in the petals. But what is holding the flower up? What pushes the flower to grow taller, stronger? The answer lies in the roots. Oftentimes we do not give roots much notice. We don't acknowledge the power they yeild. Because we can't always see them, it's easy to forget that they exist. But here, in my world, roots repeatedly make their presence known. I simply wasn't recognizing them for what they were.

Over and over again I have watched girls come to me as wilted flowers. I know they come from somewhere, but far too often I have not given much thought as to where. And without knowing it I have viewed myself as their stem. Their encourager, their cheerleader. Because you can see a stem, and you can see me. Pushing them to be more, pushing them to stretch, pushing them to grow. And if I was lucky, over time, I was privaledged to watch them bloom. It was a gift to see their true colors unfolding before my very eyes. It was a joy to watch them dream big dreams, if only for a moment. And my dream became that they would bloom for a lifetime. But the color never seemed to last. Eventually, my flowers would begin to wilt once more. They would begin to sag back down to the ground, back to that which they came from. And I never understood why. But now I do.

It was because of their roots.

The words my daughter read to me made sense. The roots hold the plant very tightly in the soil. It might not look very strong, but the tip of the root is very hard. As the plant grows taller, the roots reach deeper....
Roots are strong, and they are powerful, and they are real. They have the potential to either give and encourage life, or to take it away. But it is hard to stand strong. It is hard to bloom. It is hard to rise above, to tower above the soil. To tower above that which you know. And that is why so many of them return. That is why so many beautiful flowers return to their roots. Because roots have a stronghold in each of our lives, and if they are not life giving roots pushing and encouraging growth, then it is simply much easier to allow your roots to drag you back down once again. And that is why the cycle continues.

That is why history repeats itself.

I found no answers today. Only a bit of understanding. I realized that those of us in the foster care world need to pay more attention to roots. To where the child has come from. It is not enough to just be their stems, to only be their cheerleaders encouraging them from this point forward. It is not enough to only try and 'fix' what we can see. If we don't address their roots, the child might bloom for a season, but the beauty will never last. I have no doubt that digging in the dirt will be messy. And digging up roots is sure to be bone weary work. But once the roots are exposed?

Perhaps then we can replant and the flowers that bloom just might last for a lifetime.

Planting and Pointing

Once upon a time there was a little girl who had BIG dreams for her life. She never wanted ordinary, only extraordinary would do. She spent hours upon hours dreaming of the man that she would marry, the children she would have, the adventures she would go on. She dreamed too, of the service that she would do for God. Serving Him was important to her. She wanted to do BIG things for His kingdom during her time here on earth.

She wanted her days to matter. She wanted her life to count.

Eventually that little girl grew up and went to college. A BIG old state university. Texas A&M Universty, to be exact. Whoop! Only she didn't really go there for a college education. She went to find love, to live life, and to have adventures. (Shh. Don't tell this college girl's parents who paid for this BIG college adventure.)Some of her most favorite college adventures were when she would go on mission trip's with her friends to children's homes around the country. During these trips this college girl fell in love with the children's homes that she visited. She loved the children, the BIG, loud, crazy houses, the BIG white vans that the houseparents drove. She loved it all! And she wondered if maybe God wasn't leading her towards this work one day? She didn't know, but she sure hoped and prayed that He was.

During her junior year, this girl found BIG love with a man she now calls Boss. They dated for two months and were engaged for six, before they committed their lives to one another one hot, May day. And one of the many things she loved about Boss? He dreamed as BIG as she did allowed her to dream BIG and supported her dreams. Because he supported her. And if this girl thought she had BIG dreams before, now she was flying. Right away they started their little family, and right away that dream came true. But before too long, life had led them down a path that they had not intended for themselves. Boss worked a regular job, the girl was a stay at home mama, and they lived in a cookie cutter house. It wasn't a bad life that they were building, but it wasn't for them. It was an ordinary life. And both of them wanted more.

One day, as she was thinking about their lives and pondering change, the girl remembered how much she used to love the children's homes that she visited. And she felt her heart being nudged in that direction once again. So she shared the desires of her heart, her BIG dreams, with Boss, and the most amazing thing happened. He said, let's go. So they did. Boss left his regular job, they sold their cookie cutter house, and they went. And they never looked back.

For the past six years Boss and this girl (his girl) have served nearly forty children in need. Children ranging in age from five to eighteen. Children needing a home and love. Children needing a good example and guidance. And there have been many, many happy times. Much laughter and learning abounding in their home . And there have been hard times, too. Hard lessons to learn. For this girl, the hardest lesson to learn was understaning that just because you dream BIG things, and perhaps do BIG things, does not guarantee that you will see BIG results. In fact, you are not guaranteed seeing results at all. Time and time again, this girl gave her heart to a child, fell in love with a child, only to have that child hand her heart right back to her. Only now her heart was missing a little piece. A piece that child now carried, whether they wanted it or not. Time and time again this happened. Time and time again this girl vowed that she would not get attached to anyone else. But she always did, because that's the way her heart worked. But she kept secretly praying that God would send her one child, just one child, that would make all of this time, effort, love, and hurt worth it.

If she could just change one life, then her life would count.

That's what this girl thought. And then three years ago, God sent her the one. Or so she thought this child was the one. And a part of her fell in love once more. For three years she gave this child all that she had to give. She tried to stand in the gap, make good decisions, parent the best way that she knew how. And she thought it was enough. She thought she was enough, because this was her one. The future looked bright, and nothing else mattered if she could change at least this one.

Today, the future for the one dimmed considerably. Today, the one walked out. Tonight, this girl is hurting, because she feels like she didn't change even one. Not a single one. And she wonders if what she has done with her days has mattered after all. So this girl did what she always does when she is hurting. She headed to the bathtub to soak away her sorrows, to think and to pray. She needed to make sense of it all. To make sense of all of this time given, and to make sense of all of these children who have walked away. Because it doesn't make sense to her. And she told God that. She asked him why she couldn't change a single one. And as she began to sink further into the warm water, thoughts began to sink from her brain into her heart. Where she needed to make sense of it all. And once again, she was reminded that she was seeing it all wrong. She doesn't need to change anybody. Not even one. Only God can do that. Her job is to plant the seeds, perhaps water a few, but never to change. Changing them is never her job. Only The One can do that. And this girl was also reminded of something else. She had once again gotten so busy trying to change the one, save the one, that she had forgotten that she only serves an audience of One. And nothing else really matters. It is him she is serving. It is his seeds she is planting. And that is her only job.

The point of her life is to point to Him.

That is all. And if she does that, if she plants seeds and points, plants seeds and points, perhaps one day he will do the ultimate work of change. And maybe she will see the results. Maybe she won't. But it shouldn't matter to her either way. As long as she is planting and pointing she is doing her job.

And The One she serves is BIG enough to take care of the rest.

And this girl knows this. She really does. But sometimes she needs a reminder.

*** As I finish editing this post tonight, the one who left is sleeping safely in her bed here in our home. She has returned. There is still much to be worked through and sorted out, but for tonight she is here. And Boss and I will keep planting and pointing and pray that the seeds take root. And then we will leave the rest up to the only One who can change. ***

When Life Hands You Lemons

For five years now, we have made our home out here in the country on the grounds of the children's home where our family serves. And here's the deal. At times it has been hard. Really hard. Being in full time ministry is hard. Being a foster parent is hard. And sometimes, in various seasons of our work here, it has felt like life has handed us lemons. Lemon, after lemon, after lemon. During our time here I have been kicked, spit on, manipulated. I have been lied to and disrespected. I have been stolen from and called every name in the book. I have lost countless hours of sleep and had to clean up the poop of an older child who refused to clean up after themselves. I have given my whole heart to a child, only to have it handed right back to me the next time the child did not get what they wanted. I have had parents write horrible things about me, horrible untrue things that hurt deeply, and at times I have been misunderstood by coworkers. Here I have watched Godly families crumble under the stress and strain of it all. Here I have crumbled. All of these things lemons. All of these things leaving a sour taste in my mouth.

And the children we have served? They have been handed lemons, too. Only their lemons were often worse than anything you or I could ever imagine. Their lemons came in the form of abuse and neglect. Their lemons came from abandonment and feelings of being unwanted. Some of them had parents that chose drugs and alcohol over their children. Some of them had parents or family members who took advantage of them in every way imaginable. Some of them have the scars of their lemons on the outside of their bodies, while other's carry their scars on the inside, storing up their bitterness in their hearts. All of them handed too many sour lemons. All of us trying to come together in one home, on one piece of land. And it has been hard.

At times over the last five years I have wanted to quit. Not because it was time for us to move on, but because I felt that life here was too hard. Too many lemons. I wanted to run away from it all, a coping mechanism that I had used far too many times in my past. When life hands you lemons, run far, far away, as fast as you possibly can! That's what I used to say to myself. But God never allowed me to run from here just because things were hard. Instead, he taught me a new way.

In a way that only he can, God turned my lemons into lemonade.


He took my sour and turned it into something sweet, something refreshing. Time and time again. So many times, I often wonder why I ever doubted at all. Here we made friends who became family. Lemonade. Here we learned to see others as Christ sees us all. Lemonade. Here we showed children a new way, a refreshing way. Lemonade. Here we learned sacrifice. Here we learned patience. Lemonade and more lemonade. Here we raised our children on country sunshine. Lemonade. Here we watched God restore broken families, the sweetest lemonade of all. Here God put amazing, beautiful, older Christian girls in the lives of my daughters. Girls who just last week worked along side my sweet ones at a lemonade stand they set up and ran right here on our campus.

And I found it quite fitting that right here, right here on this very piece of land that houses so much sour, so much bitterness, brokenness, and pain, right here in the middle of it all, lemonade was being sold. A sign to me that God is still working. That he can take the sour and make it sweet. That he can take the broken and make them beautiful. That he can refresh and restore with one tiny sip. The God that I serve is willing to take our lemons and turn them in to lemonade. And you and I? We never have to be thirsty ever again.

Made New

Lately, my attitude has been suffering. Wouldn't you know that on my new journey to find Christ, Satan would try to smack me down right off the bat? It's true. He has. And it hasn't been pretty. I have been grumbling. I have been complaining. I have been throwing myself a week long pitty party. I have been fighting the urge to want "more" in life than what I have been given. I have been desiring more money and more time with my husband. I have been preoccupied and less than patient with my children, and I have been less than a tuned out house parent. Truthfully, a lot of my mood stemmed from feeling burned out of house parenting. It's nothing that the kids in our care have done or not done lately, I had just been desiring my own home and my own life. Carrying the burdens of so many people's lives had just gotten too heavy, and I wanted to quit. Or at the very least lock my door, crawl into my bed (alone), and pull the covers up to my chin. And not get up until summer. I am not proud of the way that I have been acting, but I am being honest. I needed a kick in the pants to get back on track with what truly matters in this life. Tonight I got one.

K (we will call her that for privacy), has lived with our family for a year and a half. When she first moved in with us, she was very angry. In fact, she ran away that very first week :). She had adoptive parents who loved her, but at that time she wanted nothing to do with them. She didn't want anything to do with anyone, really, unless we were talking about boys. She was (and still is) a teenage girl, after all:). But time passed, and day after day,month after month,we began to see layers of her anger and her rebellious spirit chip away. She began to smile and take pride in the way that she cared for herself and dressed. She raised her grades and started making plans for an academic future. She mended broken relationships with her family. Instead of tolerating worship services with our family, she began seeking and desiring answers on her own. Her heart changed and it showed in the way that she began to live her life. While I consider K one of our few "success" cases (out of 36), I had sadly (for me) began to think that our work with her was done. When you are in this field for any length of time, sometimes you begin to lose hope as so many young girls with great potential never amount to anything. It can become quite disheartening. So with all of the progress that K had made, I had somewhat believed that was as good as it was going to get. Shame on me. Because God was still at work.

A couple of weeks ago, K began to discuss baptism with Boss and I. She has been studying her Bible for quite some time, and she had decided that she believed that Jesus Christ was in fact the Son of God, and that she wanted to be baptized. When a child in the custody of the county wants to make a decision such as this, they must have county approval, so we started making calls, praying, and waiting for the final decision to be made. K's decision was already made, and I am confident that God knew her heart, regardless of what the county ended up deciding. Anyway, I did not know that tonight was going to be "the night" going into it. But it was. And it was awesome.

Boss got the privilege of baptizing K. A first for him. Bless his heart, he was so nervous. Everything he had planned to say flew right out the window, and he stuck with the basics, but that doesn't matter (I have reassured him:). What matters is that a soul has been saved. What matters is that a slate has been wiped clean, and a heart has been made new. It was a beautiful, sobering moment that reminded all who witnessed it that God does not give up on us, and that we are never so lost that we cannot be found. It was a sobering moment for me and my bad attitude that wanted to quit. That wanted to be selfish and lazy. And as we walked with K to the front of the auditorium tonight, my sweet husband whispered in to my ear, this is why we do what we do. And he is right. Not that it in any way, shape, or form is about us, but instead it is about God working through us, and everyone who surrounds these kids, to bring about His purposes for their lives. And even if K is the only one that we ever influence in this manner, then it is still worth it. I needed that reminder. With God, all things can be made new, whether it is K's heart and soul, or my bad attitude. With Him, anything is possible. This, I believe. I am so very proud of you, K!

35

Ben and I have been house/foster parenting for 4 1/2 years now. We began this work in New Mexico before moving to our current children's home in Ohio. During that time we have seen 34 different children between the ages of six and eighteen walk through the doors of our home. A few boys, even more girls. All broken and in need of love. Tonight we will be meeting number 35. Not sure why that feels significant, but it does. You see, sometimes I forget. When I was first called to this work, I had such passion. I was out to save the world one child at a time. I took God's words about caring for the orphans very seriously. I covered each child often in prayer, and my mind never wandered far from all that these children had endured.

But then time passed. More and more children came and went. Faces began to blur. What started out as a bold mission, turned into mundane life. Foster parenting just became something that we do. A daily part of our life. A good part of our life, but the passion faded. I would begin to look at others and wonder why their life seemed more exciting than mine? Why wasn't I feeding the homeless? Being a missionary overseas? Why was my life so regular? Plain? But then I would mention this to someone else, and they would laugh. They view my life's work as a mission.

The problem was, I had forgotten. When I sit with the kids in my care at the dinner table each night, I now just see them as kids. It has become such a daily part of my existence that I no longer see sexual, physical, or verbal abuse when I look at them. I don't think about how they were homeless and lived in a shelter each night, or if they were lucky, in their car. I don't remember that their parents tried to kill them by putting rat poisoning in their bottle as an infant, or that they used to be dressed up for some sick person's pleasure. They are just my kids. The big kids (as we call them in our house) in my life. On one hand this is a good thing. Because they are NOT their pasts. They are more than the abuse that they have endured. But on the other hand, I need to remember. I need this to keep my fire going. I need this to get over the awkward transition that is moving someone new into this house. I need to remember so that I remember to pray, and so that I never get so comfortable that I think I can do this on my own.

So tonight we get someone new. It still makes me a little nervous each time someone new moves in. Probably always will. But my passion is revived. I want to love the kids who come my way the same way that God loves me. I feel so blessed to be in this work, and I just don't want to forgot. Each child. Each story. Each face.

John L.
Brendan
Kayleigh
Jackie H.
Callie
Soomee
Jackie Y.
Kelly
John M.
Kyle
Toshina
Milton
Larrin
Ubaldo
Uwaldo
Mia
Clara
Kat
April
Sarah
Jamie
Jessica
Annie
Alex
Breanna
Bre
Crystal
Missy
Brittany M.
Kristal
Zoe
Brittany B.
Carolyn
Cassie

These kids have touched my life. I pray I have touched theirs. I don't want to forget. Here's to 35 more!

Boy or Girl, That is The Question

Tomorrow afternoon, our family gets to find out whether this little one that I am carrying is another sister or a new little brother. To say we are excited is an understatement! In fact, Emma and I have been counting down the days until this ultrasound appointment for the past two weeks, so we are definitely ready to know who will be joining our family come March. Some of us are hoping for a boy, and others are hoping for a girl, but no matter what, I have no doubt that this baby is already greatly loved.

For some reason, this pregnancy feels different to me. All of my pregnancies have been exciting and most definitely wanted, but this one is different. With Emma, I was a mere 21 years of age when I became her mama. Boss and I were insanely happy and excited to bring a daughter into this world, but looking back, I was very young and naive. A baby having a baby. I remember right after having her, Boss was afraid to hold her for fear of breaking her. I just kept thinking, Are they really going to let me take her home? I can't believe they would trust me with such a little person! Somehow, with much joy and happiness, we survived Emma's first few years of life, and just like clockwork, two years later we had our sweet Kate. I was thrilled that we had sisters, and their relationship has been precious to watch develop over the past three years. Emma and Kate are the best of friends and partners in crime, rarely fighting, and I cannot imagine one without the other. Life was exactly as it was meant to be in our little family.

Many of you know that I experienced health problems after Kate's birth, and it was pretty much decided that we would not have any more biological children. We decided this as much for health reasons, as we did for sanity reasons. What I experienced emotionally after having Kate (much stress and anxiety which persisted for nearly a solid year after her birth), took a tole on our little family. Sometimes the anxiety was so overwhelming that it consumed me, and a lot of the work of caring for the girls was thrown on Boss. It was a very long year. So, while we desperately wanted more children, we had both agreed that adoption would be the path  to growing our family. I have wanted to adopt since I was a little girl, so this seemed as natural to me as having another one of our own. I was truly at peace with the path we were on.

However, it was not long after we started on our adoption journey that I realized how rocky the road was going to be. I knew it was going to be a lengthy process, but I didn't expect it to be so tough. Basically, the major roadblock for our family adopting was our living situation. We are houseparents at a group home for teenage girls with behavior problems. On paper, the girls that we live with sound quite scary, but the truth is that most of them are girls who got handed a rotten deal in life, but who are striving daily to overcome their pasts. They most certainly are not dangerous, or I would not live here with my own daughters in the first place. To date, we have served thirty kids, and there are only three that I can think of who I would not have gladly welcomed in to my own family, and those girls were removed from our program the minute they became a problem. Even though that is what I know to be the truth regarding our living environment, that is not what a caseworker sees when they review our home study. So, even though we passed our background checks, had good references, made enough money, and passed and completed everything in the home study process, we continued to be denied by agency after agency. The paperwork to cover a home study like ours was too intense for a private agency to take on. While I completely understood where they were coming from, it was still a hard pill to swallow since it seemed as though that was where our dreams were. In the end, we were left with three options.

Our first option was for us to quit our ministry here and adopt as a regular family. Definitely not an option for us at this time! I truly love my job and feel like working with these girls is where I am supposed to be at this time, and possibly for many years to come. I could not give up caring for five girls who need a place to call home, to justify filling my own need for one.

Our next option was to adopt a child already in the system, meaning we would go through the county and not through a private agency. Big difference! With a private agency, you are most often the only mama and daddy that the baby ever knows, and there is never a chance for the child to be abused or neglected before it becomes a part of your family. When you adopt through the county, even if you adopt an infant, the majority of times, damage has already been done. Not that I don't think these children deserve to be adopted, and I am so thankful there are families out there who are called to do so. The problem is that I work with the grown up versions of these kids day in and day out. I live with kids who were adopted by wonderful loving families by the age of one, but it was already too late for them. Too much abuse and damage had already been done, and they are not capable of bonding with their adoptive family, hence the reason they are living with us. I get tired of seeing adoptive moms who have tried for so long to reach these kids, and to love these kids, but the kids wants nothing to do with them and they probably never will. I see this over, and over, and over again. It is heartbreaking for both the child and the adoptive family, and I could not see putting my family through that pain. It is too much of a reality in our everyday life.

Our third option became to have another child of our own. After that year of intense anxiety lifted and I talked with a few more doctors, it became clear that there was no medical reason we could not have another child. I only had to feel ready to do so. I won't lie, it was hard to let go of my dream of adopting a little African American baby with the curliest little fro you ever did see, and I am not saying we will never adopt. Who knows what God has in store for our family? And I will not lie and tell you that I was not fearful of getting pregnant again, because I was, and still am, nervous about the pregnancy, but I also have more peace than I have had in a very long time. The baby I am carrying is the baby we have prayed for for two years. It feels like being pregnant for the very first time all over again. Every kick is a miracle, each week of growing a blessing. There is no other way to explain it, other than to say it is differently wonderful. I am a bit older now, and being a mama comes more naturally than it did during those early years. I am so very ready to be a mama of three! My three. The Z three.

So, are we having a little boy or a little girl? Tomorrow we will find out the answer to that question. But whoever this little one is, I have no doubt that they were meant to be a part of our family. We love you Baby Z Number Three, and we can't wait to call you by name!

This and That

My girls are growing so quickly. It seems Kate's speech has taken off, and Emma has blossomed from a toddler into a little girl over night. I have not been on the Internet as much as I used to be, and my only thought about this is that I seem to be living my life more, instead of only writing about it.

We are having a fun, yet busy summer! We are enjoying swimming in our little pool, eating popsicles, and spending time with daddy while he is off for the summer. We have also started the tradition of Friday nights at Grammy's. This is so special to me, because it was a tradition I shared with my grandparent's during my own growing up years. From the time I was seven (when we moved back to the states) until I left for college, every Friday night, my Grandma would have burgers, baked beans, and coke floats for whoever from the family wanted to come to her house. Sometimes all of my cousins and I were there with our friends, and sometimes there would only be a few of us, but it was always waiting there for us if we wanted it! So this past week when Boss and I were talking about what to do on Friday night, I suggested that we start Friday nights at Grammy's for our girls! So we did. We had burgers, baked beans, and coke floats, and then we went swimming at Grammy's pool, and it was just like old times. I love traditions that are passed down from generation to generation. I also love that our foster girls get to be a part of family traditions, as that is something that several of them have never experienced before.

Our work at the home here is going well. We are prayerful about the growth of the school where Boss works, and if it continues to grow, there are some possibly exciting positions that might open up for him there. I am continuing to enjoy working with the girls in my care. We really feel as if we are making a place, a home, for our family here, and I can't tell you how good that feels! We are also doing a lot of work on the house. We had hardwood floors put throughout the entry/kitchen/dining, we have painted nearly every surface of the upstairs level, and Boss has redone our master bedroom and bathroom for my birthday this month. I got to pick out new bedding/lighting/paint, etc.

Some awesome news is that it looks like one of my good friends and her family are moving here next month! I have been praying fervently for God to send me a girlfriend here, and I am so excited that things are falling into place. They houseparented with us in New Mexico, and Emma and Kate are excited for Carter, Cooper, and Cole to join the Mid Western family! Life is good! My birthday is next weekend and we are on relief, so Boss and I are thinking of a movie marathon, followed by big bowls of ice cream. Yum! I am looking forward to it. I am blessed to share my days and my life with the ones I love most in this world.

Sad

In my job, I come across terrible neglect and abuse cases. Sometimes on a daily basis. The girls that come into my care, usually come with a huge stack of intake papers that tell snapshots of their story. None of their stories are pretty. Some of them make me sick. On Monday, we got a new little girl with the worst story I have read..

People often talk of being pro life, which I am passionate about, but it seems that the discussion ends there. You see a picture of  a fetus, proving it is a real baby and is deserving of life, but in my opinion, just giving a child life is not enough. If someone is going to give their child life, what gives someone the right to ruin that child's life before they even take their very first breath? Why don't we ever see pictures of the children, and later the adults, they grow up to be?

Tell me, do these children ask for their mother to drink alcohol and do cocaine during her pregnancy, so that their physical growth and looks are stunted forever? Absolutely not. Does a child ask to be fed rat poisoning in her bottle as a baby, which did not kill them, but was just enough to kill many of their brain cells? Did they ask to be mistreated by the men in their life, so that they are never able to enjoy the intimacy God designed to be in a marriage relationship? Does a child ask to be left alone in a playpen for days on end, so that now they have trouble accepting care from those that truly want to give it? The answer to every one of those questions is no. And it makes me feel sad that these mother's dictate the future their child will have, because these mother's chose to make selfish choices.

Most of the time I read the paperwork once, so that I know what needs to be worked on, but I let it go at that. I treat these girls as I would any other girl, and make as much progress as I can while they are in my care. Thankfully, most of them have been in therapy for years before coming to me, and we are truly just working on a plan for their futures. Most of the girls that I see have been adopted by loving families who want the very best for them. But sometimes, every once in a while, I can't forget about what I have read. It keeps me awake at night and it makes my stomach hurt. And sometimes, I feel sad and just need to vent.

A Day In The Life Of A Children's Home House Mom

People are always curious when I tell them what we do for a living. They either think houseparenting sounds great and want to know where they can sign up, or they imagine us living on a compound, where life is anything but normal.

Being a house mom can be great and incredibly rewarding, but it can also be very tiring and emotionally draining. If anyone is considering doing serving in this minitry, because it does provide a way for mama's to stay home with their children and still receive a salary (plus all living expenses are paid), you cannot do it for that reason alone. The kids have an innate way of being able to tell if you truly care about them, and if they know you are there for the wrong reasons, they will make your life a living nightmare. Trust me. And even if they do know that you care, it can take a lot of work to break through the layers of stone that they have built up over the last fifteen years of their lives. That being said, we do not live on a compound and our life is very normal! We have a schedule, we laugh, we go to school and church. We eat out as a family, go to Wal Mart, the movies, and the mall. I admit that the big girls tend to get a bit silly whenever we venture out into public, but that doesn't stop us from going. I just make them walk fifteen steps behind. Maybe. So here you go. A glamorous day in the life of a children's home house mom.

4 am - Our internal alarm clocks go off, and we hold our breaths waiting for Kate to wake up, as we are still not used to her sleeping through the night!

6 am - The real alarm clock goes off, followed by Kate, and my sweet husband gets up four out of five days a week to handle the morning routine. I am spoiled and blessed! At this point, I roll over and go back to sleep, knowing that the house is in the hands of my capable husband.

6 am to 8 am - Boss gets all of the girls up and out the door. He makes sure that they take their medicine, their lunches are packed, that they are dressed appropriately, and that they have their homework. Again, I am so blessed. I usually wake up around 8 am in time to spend a few minutes with Boss and kiss him as he walks out the door.

8 am to 10 am - If there are no appointments, then Emma, Kate and I usually stay in our jammies during this time. We have a silly tradition of getting dish cloths to place over the girls laps, so they can sit on the couch and watch cartoons while they eat their cereal. It is so cute to watch Kate get her cloth and head to the couch every morning. I will miss this time when they start school!

10 am to 2 pm - On Mondays and Wednesdays we have no plans, so we stay at home and play or color, or we use that time to run errands. Tuesday is our busy day, as I have a staff meeting, we go to ballet, and then we stop at McDonald's for Happy Meals and play time. On Thursday mornings, Emma's friend Carly comes to play and then I have a staff luncheon, and on Fridays we are part of a playgroup with mama's and kids from our church.

2 pm - I am always home by 2 pm, so that I can get the house picked up and have snacks made for the big girls who arrive home from school at 2:45 pm.

3 pm to 5 pm - I put Kate down for her afternoon nap, and then we have snack time, study time, and there is usually some sort of drama that needs to be worked through. I also use this time to prepare dinner, and we usually eat around 5:30 pm.

6 pm to 8 pm - After dinner we have chore time, and then we usually play a game or watch TV. During basketball and volleyball season, we go to the games at Boss' school.

8 pm to 9 pm - The big girls get their showers and then head to their rooms. Our family spends some quality time together, before Kate goes to bed at 9 pm.

I am a night owl and usually use that time to unwind, blog, fill out paperwork, or read. I usually head to bed around 11 pm.

So, there you have it! We are just like any other family. Our days are long and full, but we are most definitely blessed, and for the time being, I would want life no other way.

What We Do and Why We Do It

I don't believe I have ever done an actual post on this subject, so here goes! If you have known me for any amount of time, or have been reading my blog for even a month, then you must have noticed some random pictures of teenagers thrown into posts here and there. (For privacy reasons, those pictures have been removed.) And you must have been thinking, she is too young to be their mother! Who are those kids? The simple answer is that those kids are a pain in my neck and a piece of my heart. But let me start with how those kids became a part of my life.

When I was in college, for a short while I was part of a campus ministry called Aggies For Christ. Over school breaks, groups of Aggies would head out to children's homes to do week long mission trips. I loved going on those trips! They remain some of my favorite college memories. On one particular trip to Tipton Children's Home in Oklahoma, I got to know the houseparents that I was staying with, and the idea to houseparent started growing in my heart.

Fast forward three years. Boss and I had only been married for two years, we had already moved two different times, and Boss was working on his second career. He was in retail when we married, and after a year of never seeing one another and our first baby on the way, Boss decided to get his emergency teachers certification and jump into the more family friendly world of education. Boss was an excellent teacher, but he was unhappy in the particular work environment he currently found himself in, so we were once more searching for our calling in this life. I timidly broached the subject of houseparenting, and surprisingly Boss jumped on board. We prayed about the idea, and eventually wound up applying at a children's home in Albuquerque, New Mexico. We served there for a year and a half.

There were many great things about our time in Albuquerque. Boss did not work outside of the home, so for eighteen months, our little family spent a lot of time together! That was the very best part. We made wonderful friendships with the other houseparents we served with, and we able to grow as a family during that time. While there, we had a total of 15 children walk through our doors. Some of them were there because their parents were ill. Others were there because their parents were in prison. And sadly, some kids were there because their parents were simply too busy with their own lives and relationships to take care of them. I am not sure we truly changed the lives of any of the kids we served during that time, but we did clothe them, feed them, show them what a healthy family was supposed to look like, and most importantly, we were able to introduce them to the love of Jesus. Seeds were planted, and I am trusting that the Father will continue to work in their lives. It was a wonderful time in our lives, however, things started to change in the staffing at ACCH, and for many reasons we decided it was time to move on.

This picture is of Boss and another house dad with some of the brothers that were in our care.
















In February of 2007, we moved our family to Ohio, so that we could be close to family. I knew that my parents would follow, and I wanted my children to grow up with their cousins, and seasons, and all that Ohio had to offer. I love living here, and I am so glad that we made this choice. For our first six months here, Boss was back in retail, and his frustrations of working for the world came back stronger than ever. I, too, was struggling. I loved raising my daughters, but I missed my days of working at the children's home. However, our family was tired of moving, and we wanted to find a place to belong. We began praying earnestly that God would lead us home. In August of 2007, a friend from church told us about a children's home 45 minutes from where we were currently living, so we decided to interview. On the day that we interviewed, the Christian school on campus also offered Boss the position of Athletic Director at the school there. His dream job. I have only seen my husband cry five times in almost five years of marriage. The fifth time he cried was the day we accepted the position at Mid Western Children's Home. It seemed that every choice we had made in our marriage had led up to this opportunity. We felt so blessed, and we knew that God was answeing our prayers.

So, here we are. We live in a seven bedroom, four bathroom home on one hundred plus acres. My girls love growing up in the country, and my husband loves his role as Athletic Director. As for me, I am loving being a mama. My family is just like any other family, only at this time we have four teenage girls who are living with us. It is not always easy, and there are often times that my tiny daughters hear things I wish they did not have to hear. However, my daughters also have compassion and understanding that is beyond their years, because of the girls that live with us. My daughters think that all families are made up of different races, and they are learning daily about making good choices. I am so proud of who my children are becoming.

The girls I work with are very special young ladies. I learn something from each one of them, and I hope that they learn something from me. As I stated earlier, they are often a pain in my neck, but they also each hold a piece of my heart. In less than five years of marriage, Boss and I have had exactly 20 kids walk through our doors (not counting our own two), and we are forever changed because of each one. I am not sure how long we will continue to do this work, but I hope it is for a very long time.

What Goes Up, Must Come Down

We are home from our romantic weekend, and it could not have been more wonderful! We had no plans, no demands of our time, no questions being asked, and nobody around except for the two of us. I have never felt more relaxed in my entire life.

We did leave the cabin a few times. We went out for both breakfast and dinner, and we also went hiking at Old Man's Cave. The weather was crisp, fall leaves covered the ground, and it was the ultimate Autumn experience. I even picked up some fall foliage to use in a Thanksgiving sign that Emma and I will be making this week. After we hiked, my wonderful husband took me antiquing before we headed back to the cabin to watch the a little football.

The cabin was made of real wood, and the entire thing was heated by a little fireplace. The bed was upstairs in a loft, and the blankets were cozy homemade quilts. We slept like babies! Not our babies, because they don't sleep through the night, and we most certainly did. We slept like good babies. I love Boss all of the time, but sometimes I forget to show him. So this weekend was perfect for reconnecting and falling in love.

However, before you begin to think my life too perfect, remember that what goes up, must come down. We left our weekend together most definitely up, but we were quickly brought back down to the reality of life. We picked our girls up from Boss' parent's house and they fussed the entire way home. Then we were greeted by our four foster girls who had all managed to get themselves in trouble for smoking during the weekend. It took me two hours to claim all of their lighters and hand out consequences. Monday was a school holiday, so everyone stayed home, and by eight in the morning, I was standing at the sink washing dishes when Boss said, Remember when we went on vacation, just the two of us, a long time ago? And I just laughed, because what goes up must come down. But the good news is that things will go up again. This stage in our lives is teaching me to cherish the special moments, when time stands still, so I can recall them in my mind when life gets hectic around me. And up or down, it doesn't matter. Because we are doing this thing called life, together. Blessings abound.