Touch of Love

Today, for whatever reason, I began thinking about the varying movements and touches of my three children. In watching each one, I realized what a story or truth their actions and touches tell about them and about love.

 My eldest is my thinker. When he touches something, it is slow and deliberate because his mind is working over what he has laid his fingers on. He is always turning things over and dismantling in an attempt to see how something works. In the grocery store today, he touched nearly everything at his height in the aisles, no doubt pondering whether he would like each item. He eats with slow motions and relishes every bite, lost in thought. He is only fast when he is frustrated, and his hugs are like his thoughts, deep and meaningful.

 My middle child is always speeding through life. Her hands graze swiftly over everything. If she touches something, it is most likely to lay claim to it. She seeks touch with complete abandon. Her movements are endless, constant. At meals, she handles all of her food repeatedly, and her hugs are deliciously fierce and consuming, like crashes of tightly wound energy, much like she is.

 My youngest child is more delicate. She touches to explore, but very tentatively. She eats with a measured calm. And perhaps it is still her age, but she seeks out hugs for reassurance. She snuggles and relaxes, showing that she has found the respite and comfort she was looking for in that moment. A hug from this child feels like coming home.

 In them I see what love can and should be, deep and thoughtful, constant and intense, safe and comfortable. It is all of these things at once, because this is how God loves us.

What A Difference A Year Makes

I was just reading over my post from July 21st from last year. It was exactly a year ago yesterday that I wrote about having a fairytale life, and I don't feel any differently today! How fitting that a year after this post was written, the judge finally made the decision to set a trial date for the termination of parental rights for our precious baby girl! She will legally be our daughter before the end of this year. This gives my husband and I more joy than I can even articulate. Toward the end of 2011 as things were wearing on in her case with little or no legal movement, I was feeling so frustrated and discouraged. So many times since this beautiful girl came into our home, I have felt as though she was not the priority of her case worker, attorneys, juvenile officer, or the judge. She was cut loose from her sibling group as a bargaining chip and was almost immediately placed on a back burner until enough time had passed. Well, we are there. Enough time has passed! We are on our way, and I couldn't be happier. As she sits here next to me "coloring name" on a notepad with a pen, I can take her in as the gift she is. Becoming a mother is always special. Becoming a mother to a newborn that you didn't know existed in just a few hours is inexplicable. She was SUCH A GIFT! It isn't that the other two children weren't gifts. They are, and I can't imagine my life without them. However, there is something so different about they way she arrived. I think it has as much to do with my state of mind at the time too. We had just let another child go from our home. I was resolved to having just two kids and felt a peace with that. I had just accepted a part-time job teaching again. I could see this new chapter of our lives unfolding in my mind's eye. This chapter did not include an infant. And then on August 12th, that old addage about how we plan and God laughs manifested like a hand grenade in our life! There she was. At 5:00 in the afternoon, needing to be loved and cared for. Her daddy and I were both immediately smitten. There was no turning back. We gave her our hearts so quickly, that I am sure she was slightly smothered at first! And not a thing has changed since! Because of this story, because of this beautiful surprise, when I look at her, I see God. I see His hand on our family. We planned, but we trusted Him while we planned. And God took that trust and our prayers and our open hearts, and blessed us with this gift beyond measure. When I look at her, I see God's amazing love for us. It can't be pinned down, put in a box, or even into a plan. It is boundless, infinite, overpowering. That love has added to our family in a way that we could never have imagined. I am so thankful that He imagines it better than I do!

Fairytale Life

Tonight during dinner, my ipod was set to shuffle as it often is. Sometimes it is nice to surrender to music and stop the conversation. It seems to turn the kids into better eaters. As we ate, my eclectic tastes filled the room, one after another. And then "Today was a Fairytale" by Taylor Swift began to hum. I am not a huge Taylor fan. Truth be told I only like this song because it is in the movie "Valentine's Day," and I LOVE that movie. Even so, her words got my mental gears turning about my fairytale life. To begin, today was not an obvious choice for a fairytale. It was a rough one, filled with a doctor's appointment, poopy diapers, and a mild emotional roller coaster about our foster daughter. I couldn't help but wonder what kind of day I would brand a fairytale.
In youth, I dreamt of many things. I longed to be a veterinarian, but when I suddenly became allergic to dogs,cats, and horses at the age of 15, that dream flew out the window. In high school, my career dream shifted to the law. I envisioned my own firm, winning case after case, and outsmarting witnesses on the stand with my questioning. Actually studying the law in college proved to be less glamorous or interesting. That dream quickly flew out the window my sophomore year and took all of my tailored dress suits with it. So at age 20, I found myself searching for a new dream. I settled on the field of education. Soon I became engaged, and married shortly after that. The next step in life seemed to be starting a family. This was a struggle for years and all the while I dreamed and fantasized about what that life would be like once completed.
When I visualized my life, I saw a husband who had a great sense of humor and worked hard for his family. I saw a house of children with play dough and toys. I saw myself singing with my kids and taking them to the park. I visualized us being happy and loved. I thought about memories we would make together and vacations we'd enjoy.
And now here we are many years later. This list is checked, one after another. This fairytale is real. It is here. I live it everyday. There is just a lot more laundry than I imagined.

Someone recently said the following to me, "I sure wish you could just have your own baby so that you can stop trying to raise everyone elses." As shocking as this statement seems, I wasn't really hurt by it. Through my years of infertility struggles, I would have given ANYTHING to have a baby. Anything. Really. I yearned for it. Prayed for it. Obssessed over it. In our 10-year journey to have a family, I was blessed to become pregnant once. We wanted more kids and were never blessed again with a biological child. One would have to do. About two years ago my feelings about being a mother underwent a transformation. It was unexpected after spending so many years wanting to be pregnant. I'm not really sure what happened, but I know that I suddenly felt no desire to ever be pregnant again. Something inside me realized that I wanted to be a mother, not just pregnant. So, we sought another option and became foster parents. In nearly two years, we've had 7 kids in our home, including the two we have right now. And through this process, I don't really think I'm trying to raise everyone elses kids. I think my husband and I are trying to find the children that God intends for our family. If that means giving a loving home to children who aren't going to stay here, then so be it.

Hallowed

I've prayed the Lord's Prayer at nearly every church service I've attended my whole life. As we've changed churches throughout the years, the lingo has changed, debts, sins, trespasses etc. However, the meter and meaning have always been the same. It's easy to let it roll out without thinking. I've had it memorized since I was a child.
Recently though, each time I recite the beginning I am struck by something. This something gives me chills to my core. Hallowed. His name is hallowed. It makes me want to whisper the name of God because I am not worthy to say it. Hallowed means sacred, holy, revered and consecrated. God is so holy and wonderful and powerful and amazing that even His name is sacred. Think about that. We toss God around as if He were our friend or our neighbor. While I know these things to be true, I think there is merit in stepping back and thinking about the magnitude of His holiness once in a while. If we are to truly come before him in a humble way, we must first recognize what He is. Hallowed. Even His name.

Blessed

I know Thanksgiving has passed, but lately I have been reflecting on how blessed I am. I have an amazing husband who has really figured out how important he is to our family and how important we are to him. I have a brilliant little boy who thinks and considers and analyzes constantly, but will also help his sister up when she falls and isn't too big to snuggle with his mommy. I have an independent, vivacious daughter who is learning to say "I love you" and loves to be pretty. And last but not least, I have a serene, sweet baby girl who loves to smile and be made to feel special. I am so grateful to God for these four blessings. When I watch them in action, especially with each other, I am left speechless by the love I feel for each of them.

The Act of Hubicide

I've recently begun to toss around the word "hubicide." It's a term I coined a few weeks ago when I found myself saturated in pure frustration with my hubs. I guess the official definition, should Merriam-Webster ever allow it to be included in the dictionary, would be something along the lines of this: the killing of one husband by one wife. While I know I would NEVER commit such a terrible act, I think most wives have been able to relate to this thought process at one point in their marriage or another. They may have even fantasized about it. Flashes of hubicidal thoughts come and go as we wonder how he can't hear the baby crying or why the trash hasn't been carried to the curb for two weeks. Mostly, I speak figuratively about this and not truly about the reality of killing my husband. Well, maybe just killing off the annoying parts of his behavior!
The truth is though, God made men and women to be different. I'm not always sure why. But I'm sure they want to kill us sometimes too. I'll leave them to come up with their own word for that!