Yep. God is Sovereign

 Okay, well here is my story today.  I told Ryan this really is his story so I feel narcissistic telling it from my perspective.  But I’m kind of a boring housewife, so my entire life is my perspective on the interesting things that happen to him anyway. 😅 And I guess it took this to resurrect my blog after a 10 year hiatus?

So here we are in the Suggle Up (you too can rent the Snuggle Up) at Depoe Bay for a quick winter getaway before we hit the new year hard. 

We awoke to an unexpectedly gorgeous January day on the Oregon Coast, and decided we should take advantage of it and go for a walk.

Before all that you should maybe know that I thought I had forgotten my curling iron and I was so very close to going out with my hair in its natural bendy-straw state.  Why is this noteworthy? Big deal, right?  Well, I’m not a natural kinda girl. I can count on one hand and maybe 2 fingers the times I’ve gone out without the benefit of hair help.  God didn’t give me beautiful hair.  In fact, He barely gave me any so I do what I can. 

But… it was such a beautiful morning, and I thought the clouds and rain could return at any moment, so I decided to “hang it”and go for a walk anyway.  But I dug one more time in my bag—further—deep down into the dark crevices and voila! There was the curling iron, Praise Be!  I could keep up my fakery another day!

So, now I donned my cheapo Costco boots with the stupid zippers that get stuck every single time I wear them, put on my coat, and we were ready!

“Which way should we go?”  Ryan asked.  I gave my opinion and we headed south across the bridge and turned right onto a street I’d never noticed.  You can turn RIGHT heading south in Depoe Bay??  Isn’t that the Pacific?? Who knew?   I’m only a native Oregonian visiting this town for the hundredth time.    

I was in awe at this neighborhood that was completely new to me. Beautiful views!  The houses were your typical beach houses, and the further we went there were some really gorgeous ones.

Ryan is ever the confident, curious “let’s go for it” one.  And I’m all: let’s run away and mind our own business one. Don’t bother people.  Don’t trespass. I’m the fun ender.

Which is where we were in our conversation when he spotted it. “I can’t believe this house!  These are my people! I’m going to look up tax records to see who owns it.”

I’m like.”You’re going to look it up here? Now?”

But it was too late.  He’d seen the stained glass.  

They had put in stained glass windows at their entryway with Air Force stuff, Command Pilot wings, Jump wings, Air Force wings (new and old style), and…an F-16. This completely sealed it.  He was researching who owned the house.  “These are my people!” he tells me.  There is no not researching it now. 

When he found out who the owner was he was completely gob-smacked.  These were literally his people!

It’s so weird living in Oregon after being part of a fighter wing on the East Coast.   Nobody from that life is from Oregon hardly.  It’s weirder being out for 20 some years. It’s a past life.  You separate yourself from the memories just by living. 

And the chances of seeing a house with all that is very rare in Oregon anyway.  But to look up tax records (creepy, right?) and find that it’s one of the 4 or 5 fighter pilots whose back seat you actually flew in almost 30 years ago and were their intelligence officer? Unbelievable!!

There was no way Ryan was going to pass by without knocking on their door. And as his wife, there was no way out for me—although I tried to hang out at the end of the driveway.  And you better believe I’m like “thank you God for my curling iron”!

So… the door opens and the guy has a Top Gun haircut. And he’s wrestling a dog.  And Ryan calls him by the callsign he knew him as and says: “Ski?” And it was over.  We were in the door.  Meeting the dog, his wife, his son.  The next 30 to 45 minutes were surreal. 

What a fun, unexpected reunion 27 years later! His wife was so gracious and happy we stopped by.  She said they had moved from Vegas and that he wistfully says he doesn’t know anyone here.  

I can’t help thinking on God’s sovereignty.  The sun came out on a day that called for rain.  How we have never in our lives explored that area of Depoe Bay before.  I didn't even know it existed! We kept going when we were thinking of turning back several times. I noticed a pretty house.  Ryan took a few steps toward it where it put him in view of the neighboring house and its stained glass Air Force signage. 

We both marvel at these non-Oregonians settling on our rainy coast.  And that God literally directed our path to them today.  Who knows why?  I know my husband was totally blessed.  Maybe that’s it.  God is good like that. Maybe it’s to encourage them?  I hope we did. Maybe there will be a reignited friendship? They are certainly connected again.  But all that to say, life is so interesting.  God is so good and gives good gifts. And He’s definitely, definitely sovereign.

Daddy

My Daddy has been in heaven for 11 years now.   Much life has happened here since he left and I often find myself aching to tell him about it.  I often long to see his sparkle at the new grand babies we've given him. Little boys with skin darker than his other ones but personalities to match his own--more perhaps than even his biological grandchildren.   I think I can picture him better as a little boy now, acting out his passions and whims with charisma and shenanigans.  (I think I can empathize with my grandma so much better now.)    He would be thrilled at these little ones.  What fun they miss without him here too.  He would have undoubtedly dazzled them with his doodads and jokes, typewriter time and wheel barrow rides.  But most certainly they have missed his love and his wisdom.   I know I have.

Every once in a while, Micah will shake his head in sadness that he never got the chance to know his Grandpa.  I nod in agreement.  "He would have loved you!"  I tell him.  They would have been buddies.

My dad would have been so excited about our church.  He loved ministry.  He loved the lost.  He never met a stranger.  He would be encouraged at the growth we've seen and rejoiced at the people who have come to know Jesus.      

My dad used to faithfully pray for spouses that loved the Lord for his children.  My dad adored my husband. He would be so pleased with how he has taken care of his little girl.  He would have seen as I have, my husband's faith stretched and grown over the past few years.  He would know that June 10th, 1995 was a good day indeed.   God had answered his prayers.

Lately, as disappointments and grief seem to flood over me, and some things turn out so utterly upside down, I miss his comfort and wisdom and listening ear.  I want to say:  "Why, Dad?  God is still faithful, isn't He?"   I want to hear his answer.  I know his answer.  But I want to hear it.

And this is his answer: "Yes.  He is still faithful.  I've seen Him now with my own eyes, but I knew it long before that.  Take your burdens to Jesus.  I'm gone but He isn't.  He will never leave you or forsake you. Take your burdens to Him.  Take your joy, your grief, your precious ones to Him.  You don't need me in this or I would still be there.  You need HIM."

So, I don't talk to my Dad--though sometimes my heart longs to.  I take it to the one who made my dad.  Who gave my dad a new heart one day back in the 1940's.  I take it to the One who has a will.  A design.  A story.  A beauty that He is creating.  The One who works ALL things together for good to those who love Him.  The One who is the First. The Last.   This amazing One.  He is my Father.   And now without my earthly father here, I am so much more aware of this.  And I know that this is what HE wants... and it is what he-my dad-would want.  Me to come to Him.  To look to Him in all the rejoicing.  In all the tears and confusion.  In all the noise.  He is my Father and He is here.

"So you have not received a spirit that makes you fearful slaves. Instead, you received God's Spirit when he adopted you as his own children. Now we call him, "Abba, Father."  Romans 8:15

No Such Thing As a Perfect House

I like analogies.  I've learned that some people don't.  But I like them.  It's how I learn best.  Since we've been trying to sell our house I've had time to come up with a few.  It seems like selling a house for us is always a challenge--probably because we need every penny out of it we can get--probably because we never seem to stay anywhere long enough to build much equity.  Therefore, throughout the "toughness" of marketing, and wondering and keeping clean and waiting, I have lots of time to consider and think and pray and wonder and wait.  Here is the analogy that hit me pretty hard:

Salvation is a free gift.  No way in the world can you earn it.  Not one part.  We are called to be perfect.  No sin can be in heaven with God--He is holy.  If any part of it depended on us....We. Would. Fail.        

In preparing my house for potential buyers to see it, I want it to be perfect.  I have the carpets cleaned.  We paint.  We repair.  We replace.  We arrange furniture to make the best impression.  We buy art  or decorations we never would have spent money on before.  And then when we are notified that we have an actual person coming to see the house, we clean like crazy!  We rearrange our life to make our house shine and sparkle and even smell good.  We give up sleep.  We do everything in our power to make our house what the buyer would want.

But.  Every time.  EVERY time.  It is imperfect.  The floor is crooked in some spots.  The carpet is older than ideal.  The light won't come on in the pantry.  There are scratches on the hardwood. One of our windows has a tiny crack.  Our dog has tried to destroy our yard and has done a fairly good job of it at times.   I know that the buyers will notice these things eventually.    And if they don't, the inspector will.

You see, I need God's grace to sell our house.  I need Him to bring a buyer that will look past that and see the house through eyes that see it finished--repaired.  And it causes me to wonder how one might think that we could possibly ever earn our salvation--if God says we must be perfect.    We know we aren't.  And if we miss something, we know the One who sees all.   We will come up wanting.

The moment I think I have my house "perfect", I can count on a shelf falling off the wall, or a dresser with potted plants being tipped over, or the dog digging a new hole and tracking through the house.  There is always something.  I can count on yelling at my kids or being unforgiving, or thinking thoughts that are not pleasing to God.  And the tongue!  Who can tame that??  We will always struggle with sin as log as we are on this earth.

"For all of us have become like one who is unclean, And all our righteous deeds are like a filthy garment; And all of us wither like a leaf, And our iniquities, like the wind, take us away." Isaiah 64:6

So what is a person to do who wants to be right with God?  How can we ever have hope of being with Him in heaven?  All of our efforts are in vain because our floors are crooked.  Our very being is something we can't fix.  We need to be made new.

"When you were dead in your transgressions and the uncircumcision of your flesh, He made you alive together with Him, having forgiven us all our transgressions,having canceled out the certificate of debt consisting of decrees against us, which was hostile to us; and He has taken it out of the way, having nailed it to the cross." 2 Corinthians 2:14

"for with the heart a person believes, resulting in righteousness, and with the mouth he confesses, resulting in salvation. For the Scripture says, "WHOEVER BELIEVES IN HIM WILL NOT BE DISAPPOINTED."  Romans 10:1

At this point Christ becomes our righteousness.  We are perfect in Christ.  In Christ alone.

"and may be found in Him, not having a righteousness of my own derived from the Law, but that which is through faith in Christ, the righteousness which comes from God on the basis of faith," Philippians 3:9 


And then we forever have this assurance.  This assurance that we have a place in heaven.  Our salvation does not depend on us.  Our eternal life comes from God to his beloved children.  He will not disappoint.

"For we know that if the earthly tent which is our house is torn down, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For indeed in this house we groan, longing to be clothed with our dwelling from heaven, inasmuch as we, having put it on, will not be found naked.  For indeed while we are in this tent, we groan, being burdened, because we do not want to be unclothed but to be clothed, so that what is mortal will be swallowed up by life. Now He who prepared us for this very purpose is God, who gave to us the Spirit as a pledge."  2 Corinthians 5:1-5

Just For Fun

Here is a very basic review of some of the books I managed to read and remember that I read in 2015.  I like to read but I'm not a serious reader; a serious reader will recognize that by the books I've read.  But I do try and sneak in a book for fun as much as I can--a few pages at a time--between my responsibilities and sleep. I also thoroughly enjoy hearing what my friends have read and thought maybe it would be fun to try and recall what I read this past year too.   Here they are-such as they are:

Always fun to read and reliably put me in a good mood: The Minor Adjustment Beauty Salon by Alexander McCall Smith

Most entertaining and unveiled a surprising desire to go to Antarctica: Where'd Ya Go Bernadette by Maria Semple

One that I'm trying hard to like and finish (I have a hard time with her style.): Come Rain or Come Shine by Jan Karon

One that I enjoyed reading to Micah: Ramona the Pest by Beverly Cleary

One that was about a favorite author BY that same author--I really love autobiographies:  A Girl From Yamhill by Beverly Cleary

One that helped me pass the creepingly slow time while my child recuperated in the hospital: And the Good News Is by Dana Perino

One about someone I admire by someone I admire:  41 by GW Bush

One that was trashy and lacked plot and was a general disappointment--don't waste your money even if it is at Costco and you are on vacation and need something to read really badly:  Last Kind Words Saloon  by Larry McMurtry

Creepier than I normally go and still makes me nervous about my closet when I think about it:  The Winter People by Jennifer McMahon

Confusing, exciting, and for younger people than I am, but I really do like this series that my kids got me started on:  Lemony Snicket's  "Shouldn't You Be In School?"  

Both educational and moving:  Seeking Allah, Finding Jesus by Nebeel Qureshi

Encouraging and moving: Prodigals and Those Who Love Them by Ruth Bell Graham

Number 1 book that I read this past year and would encourage someone else to read?  Son of Hamas by Mosab Hassan Yousef

One that I'm reading now and have wanted to for some time (thanks for the Christmas present, Honey!):  North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell.

Devotionals: Streams in the Desert by LB Cowman and Not by Sight by Jon Bloom (Thanks, Amber! I'm lovin' it!)

A  few in my stack for this winter: 

 She Is Mine by Stephanie Fast

Hinds Feet on High Places by Hannah Hurnard

The River by Michael Neale

Mary Barton by Elizabeth Gaskell

The Photograph by Beverly Lewis 

   

Memories of Mom (from her baby)

Today would have been her 82nd birthday.  Here is what I wrote for her memorial to be read along with other people's memories of her:

It's almost impossible for me to separate my memories of my mom from those of my dad.  They were a team.  And she saw her role as one of support to his ministry.  My dad depended on her insight in ministry and her ability to run a house and her loyalty to him.   And she was faithful to both my dad and the Lord. They delighted in serving the Lord together wherever He led them.

 My mom often lived in houses not of her choosing but always made them into a home for her family.  There was a little house on a muddy dairy farm and the big nice house on the (Willamette) river.  There was even the time when she had to live IN the church, and my first home with her, across the parking lot here (Elm Street Baptist Church)...

My mom was a great cook.  Despite the lack of resources, she always managed to put a beautiful meal on the table.  Who can forget her fried chicken, potato salad and homemade rolls?  She had the ability to take whatever few ingredients she had on hand to make something tasty and nourishing.

My mom was generally quiet but had firm beliefs about what was right and wrong behavior and wasn't afraid to express it.  You wouldn't DARE back talk her.  If so, you'd end up regretting it--usually with the flavor of soap residue in your mouth.  She once told an armed stranger who barged in on her church camp cabin full of girls to put his gun away.  And then there was the time she confronted a male hanging out in the women's restroom (at night) at a campground to "get out".  He actually complied--with an apology.  (You didn't mess with my mom.)   I still remember her yelling across the post office parking lot at a crazed, angry old man who was harassing me outside our car.  She was never shy about using paint paddles or wooden spoons or an old belt to instruct her children either.  (Even on me, despite what my brothers and sister may tell you.)  She prayed aloud over JW's in our home--even blocked the door so she could finish the prayer.  She was my dad's biggest fan and also his most loyal critic. (And Heaven help him if he wrinkled his suit jacket!)

With all of her duties of life, the first thing you would notice in her home in the morning, was the smell of coffee, and her curled in her chair with her Bible opened in front of her.  She tried to please the Lord in all respects and instructed us that this was the most important thing.

She was an encourager, supporter, and gift-giver to her family.  She loved us and adored her grandchildren and great-grandchildren.    While much of what defined her daily life slowly faded with her capabilities, her work endures.  She showed us that rewards are not of this world.  That God provides.  That her family was special.  That marriage was sacred.  That Scripture is powerful.  That prayers are answered.  That books should be read.  That music is necessary.  That to be friendly is better than to be popular.  That underwear really is a Christmas gift.  That jello is a food group.  That sharing is joyful.  That back-talk tastes awful.  That furniture doesn't have to be the latest thing.  That beauty is in relationships.  That you eat "what is put before you".  That you really DON"T need a meal on Sunday nights.  That you dust where no one will look. That sacrifice can be in the very practical details.  That your home is where your family is.  That God is good  and trustworthy.

Remembered ~ Part One

I first saw him when he was 2 days old, lying in a hospital bassinet.   He was tiny and bundled, this answer to prayer.   He was being kept out in the hall near the nurses so they could keep an eye on him.  I only saw him from a distance at first.  I could see the tiny, dark head peeking out.  I wasn't even sure if he was the one, but I was pretty sure.  We took a few steps closer only to have the lawyer's phone ring.  It was the birth mom and she wanted us to wait to see him until she could be there.  Our meeting would have to wait.

 My 41st birthday was weepy.   I felt forgotten.  Not forgotten by family and friends --they were wonderful as usual.  I felt forgotten by God. Overlooked by birth moms.  Stupid for trying.  Waiting and beginning to waver on our decision to adopt again.  We were almost to the one year mark where we needed to renew our home study in order to go on.  Since we already had 5 children and were OLD,  it was already iffy that we would get another call and it had now been nearly a year with our profile out there being viewed.  After what felt like a year of rejection I had begun to question whether or not this was really God's plan for us.  Was adoption completely a wrong move for us?  Or were we merely in the wrong program?   I had begun to spend time researching other programs and inquiring how to get on board with state adoptions and even inquiring after specific children in both state and international programs.   But those doors also closed each time.  We had just decided that we would attend the next class needed to begin the state adoption process if nothing happened in the next week in our private domestic program.  We needed the time to psych ourselves up for it.  It takes a lot of energy mentally to devote yourself to a program--jumping through hoops, education, paperwork and time.  Time.  I honestly wanted what God wanted for our family but just didn't have a clue what that was.  Our just-turned-five-year-old had been praying everyday for the past year and a half for a baby.  He wanted one that looked like him--with the same beautiful dark skin, same curly black hair.  Oh, these prayers can be heart breaking.  If it weren't for these prayers, I would have given up.  But God had heard.  He hadn't forgotten.  Where my human heart was moved by my child, His must have been even more deeply. He had planned all along that we would get our answer 3 days after my birthday.

A little over a week earlier, on Wednesday, March 12th of 2014 we received an email from our agency with a birth mother profile attached for us to review.  We read it and weren't at all comfortable with their requests.  They wanted a very open adoption with phone calls, emails, and possible visits.  We said "no" based on many reasons having to do with discomfort, fear, and uncertainty, but primarily because our older adopted son didn't have this arrangement with his birth family.   Our program director decided to be bold and gave us some things to consider and asked us to rethink it.   She made some good points like: no two adoptions are the same, no two children are the same, nothing is ever totally equal, etc.  So we took a step back, took a deep breath and told her we would like our profile shown after all.   I wasn't too worried.  After all, no one had chosen us yet.  Part of me felt like this was just an exercise we went through every week or so before we received the rejection.  But the other part (mainly the Ryan part) knew that God was in control and if He wanted us to have this baby, He would oversee and protect.

The week passed with no word.  I wasn't even sure what I wanted to happen.  But I did know that God would perfectly direct our lives.  And at the same time I wondered what that looked like.  Of course my birthday came with all of the weepiness and doubt, but I lived through that somehow and was starting to feel a bit better about letting go of the "whens?" and "what ifs?" and embrace a new adoption program. I was letting go of the baby dream.

It was the Friday before spring break.  I had just gotten out of the shower and was getting ready for the day which included a much anticipated play date for Micah.   The phone rang and it was Ryan.  He could barely talk because he was choked with emotion.  "Our baby is being born right now."   I was confused.  It sounded like he said our baby was being born right now.  I questioned.  He clarified.  Our baby was being born right now and we needed to get ourselves to Florida.

 It's hard to describe the rush of emotions at that point.  Your prayers have been answered.  Boom.  You go from being cautiously hopeful to a new mindset of "We have a baby right now!!" in a matter of seconds.  Ryan and I were separated by distance and duties at that moment.  It is a weird feeling: that you suddenly have to arrange care for your children, care for an elderly mother, food to purchase for the ones who would stay at home, clothing to pack for some of them, tickets to buy, cars to rent, hotels to book, baby things to buy, notes to write to teachers, people to call, and a loan to arrange.  Did I mention it was the Friday before spring break?? But at the same time you have life carrying on.  Your husband is  an hour away at work.  Your older kids are at school.  You had a playdate arranged at your house in a couple of hours.  And you have no idea where to start.

After texting my high schoolers: "We have a baby boy!"   And messaging friends that had been praying about our good news, I turned my thoughts to my day.  I briefly considered cancelling the playdate but logic and love won out.  I knew that if we didn't do it now, it would be months before I would even consider rescheduling.  Plus, my five year old would be heart broken and I would be going away, leaving him heart broken.  So, we left that plan in place.   And it kind of worked for me to ignore the reality for a bit as my friends hung out while I folded clothes and and the kids played.  My friend Jennifer had a Costco run to make later, so she offered to bring me food for my kids who would be staying at home.  She also bought diapers and wipes and a few little outfits as a sweet gift to get me started.   My father-in-law handled the travel agent and arrangements.  My sister-in-law would take my days at my mom's. Ryan was getting things wrapped up at work.  I was packing.  Things would be OK.  But at that moment, what we hadn't worked out were the details of that Open Adoption.  We were totally unprepared.

  

A Beautiful, Tacky Story

Today was a beautiful day and I want to tell you a beautiful story.  It's about money.   I once read Barbara Bush's memoirs and she said it was very tacky to talk about money.  No one wants to hear about it.  It makes everyone uncomfortable.  Well, Barbara must not have read very many missionary biographies, because some of the best stories involve money.  The lack thereof and the prayers for provision, etc and the miraculous answers.  So, I guess this isn't really about money.  It's about God and His faithfulness and how He takes care of His children.  I hope you will excuse me as I get tacky.

I was raised by loving, wonderful parents who gave their lives to full time ministry.  My dad was a pastor--always small churches and many in small, rural communities--a couple of them were church plants from scratch.  He accepted the call, ready to serve the Lord wholeheartedly and did.

 All of the churches were struggling financially.  Many of them he had to take a second job to pay the bills which was always a challenge.  I remember my parents having garage sales at the strangest times to come up with extra cash for something, and the sales were preceded by prayer for God to sell certain items--sometimes because the items were ridiculous and wouldn't sell without Divine intervention and sometimes just because we needed the particular amount that item would bring.   Another time, my parents were out of money and saw that a truck full of meat had spilled on the highway.  They were pretty excited until they realized it had been headed for the dog food plant.  My mom once went without a new coat for 20 years.   I remember because she cried the day that particular streak was broken.  Anyway, there's a few examples for you. You get the picture.

Because of their finances they weren't able to own their own home.....until they were in their mid-fifties. My grandparents gifted my mom with a chunk of cash to help with a down payment, and the seller privately loaned my parents the part the bank wouldn't.  We were all over-joyed to have that modest and wonderful home provided for us.  When they were nearing their 70's and went to sell that home to move on to their new and final church ministry,  the market had increased significantly, and they were able to buy their new home outright.  The only problem was that Dad had to pay for a new roof on the old home and was going to take a small loan to do it.  But he won a contest at a car dealership instead--for the exact amount needed to pay for that roof.  Unbelievable.

Fast forward about 10 years.  My dad passed away about 2 years after that move, leaving my mom with a home and a small pension from his years of driving school bus that he did to supplement his pastoral income.  Meanwhile, Ryan and I had adopted a little baby boy in 2009.  We had had financial struggles of our own for different reasons--nothing like my parents had, but real ones nonetheless.  But for some reason God laid it on our hearts to dream and pray for a child through adoption.  We had no idea how we would pay for the adoption, but when the time came, and we got the call that we had a baby to pick up in 5 days, God provided a private loan for us at literally the last moment.  Eventually, by His grace, we were able to pay it back.  In 2013, we decided to pursue adoption again.  Once again we wondered how we would pay for it.  It would cost twice as much this time around, and it was scary.  But we looked back at God's faithfulness in 2009 when we were in ridiculous financial shape, and we remembered that He DID provide.  We knew He would this time too, so we moved forward trusting Him.  We got our call for our beautiful baby last March.

Today, my Friends.  Today I paid off that loan taken out less than a year ago.  I didn't think that would even be possible at the time.  And do you know where that money came from?  It came from my parents.

 My mom died in early November leaving that paid-for-house to my siblings and I.  It sold right away.  We each received a portion.  Not in my wildest dreams did I think my parents would fund our adoption.  But God is GOOD.  He is GOOD to those who put their lives in His hands.  (And I'm speaking of my parents here.)  He is not unjust to forget your work and the love you have shown towards His name.   "Give, and it will be given to you. They will pour into your lap a good measure-- pressed down, shaken together, and running over. For by your standard of measure it will be measured to you in return."

When I realized that we would get this money, I felt guilty at first.  I felt that it was sad that my parents had sacrificed so long and hard and I was the one going to benefit.  But then I realized that by some crazy miracle my dad was going to be demonstrating Proverbs 13:22....and Hebrews 6:10, and Luke 6:38 and more.  And really, it isn't my dad or mom demonstrating this, it is God demonstrating that His Word is true.  That He is faithful.  That He is generous. That He cares for His children.  

And then I realized that I was foolish. That, yes, I would enjoy their earthly gift to me, but they were right at this very moment, enjoying eternal, heavenly rewards and the presence of their faithful God which is far greater. 

My parents would be radiant to think they had some part in bringing a new life into their family.  I can hear my dad's laugh in amazement and see the sparkles in their eyes to think that God had done this in this particular way.  My mom got to meet and know and enjoy Zechariah before she died, and I know that this would have pleased her to no end.

When Ryan and I were first looking into adoption, we were in some of the worst financial shape we had ever been in, but I read somewhere then ( and I wish I could remember where to give credit) someone saying that we shouldn't let finances keep us from adoption because "God cares for the orphan in a special way and HE will provide the ransom."   My parents would say the same thing about giving up things to serve the Lord--that God provides--that He is worth serving.   I have learned this to be true.  I have seen with my own eyes the faithfulness of God.

Savannah

She entered my life in the heart of Texas.  We were strangers there, temporarily assigned by the Air Force while my husband received training.  We had been married only 10 months before and here we were alone in the middle of flat nowhere meeting her for the first time.   "It's boy!" my husband first said and was quickly corrected by the doctor's official pronouncement.   I was absolutely flabbergasted that I would have a girl.  I had just figured it would be a boy 'cause first born boys run on my side.  But there she was, perfect and beautiful and tiny in my arms. From the beginning she was a gift.  Oh, the fun of naming her and dressing her in pink and knowing she was our very own!  God knew we needed her.  Right then.  Ten months after we took our vows.  In the heart of a strange land. On our own.  Without the usual fanfare you'd expect with a first born.  We were a real family now, just starting out on our adventure together and God knew we'd want to share it with her.  It shaped us.  It changed us. It grew us.

And she's been there for all of it.  The five states.  The 10 moves. The next 5 siblings--including 2 adoptions.   The different career paths.  The hard choices that changed our lives.  

She's given us joy, beauty, laughter, sweetness and encouragement all along the way in the different stages and places.  She's provided some frustration here and there as any child will do (there was a reason my husband called her the Banshee after all) but that's to be expected when training a human being from scratch.   The best joy is to see her now loving Christ and desiring to follow Him.

As I look back on these years that have so quickly flown, I see the cute little girl proudly holding a baby brother.  I see a strawberry blanket wrapped around a blond head.  I see cheetahs and horses wearing holes in jeans.  I remember the phone call to "Please tell your daughter to quit kissing my son".  I hear elaborate plans being laid for neighborhood fun, saving up for a horse, making movies, selling paintings and art. (Oh, my.  She IS her father's daughter.) I even hear the tiresome bickering between siblings..wait that's coming from the other room...
I hear friends giggling and see guacamole face masks and star wars films being reenacted. I see bike races and garter snakes.   I can still hear her grandpa giving her his final advice to marry someone who knows Christ--she was only nine, but she listened intently and seriously.  I see her bravely leaving her own dreams to walk the long lonely walk on the first day of high school into the unknown.  I see her emerge 4 years later a beautiful, confident, and joyful leader. It's been quite the ride.  She's been the perfect gift for us, selected by a good and kind God to bless us these past 18 years.  Today we pack her up and take her to college.  Not too far away, but far enough.  We will step back and let her spread her wings.  I can't help but hear the prophetic words from strangers as I held her in my arms back in Texas: "Enjoy her. They grow up so fast."    

Lessons Learned

It was "one of those days"--too long for a facebook post but not really worth blogging about.  But I'm going to blog it anyway....

It started with a realization that time is running out to get my girl ready for college, that today was my last chance to do grocery shopping for camping, that we will be gone during high school registration, that my son still hasn't taken that test at the community college he needed for advanced history...or something like that, and that camping is just the day after my daughter gets her wisdom teeth out and THAT happens...tomorrow.  Which brings us back to this morning when I realized I needed to go with her to the airport to drop off her friend Sarah, because Ikea is at the airport.  Ikea!  Nuff said about that.  So here it is... advice from those who've left a child at the airport curb intending to pick them up again in a few minutes:

1) Make sure your children know your cell phone number for when they send you off to the cell phone waiting area at the airport.
2) Make sure they haven't left their cell phone in the car with you.
3)Make sure you don't listen to the radio in the cell phone waiting area just in case they call their own cell phone (because of #1) which is on vibrate.
4)Make sure your child knows that pay phones exist.
5)Make sure your child knows what to do when separated, because them WALKING to the cell phone area while you have driven back to the airport to have them paged? Just doesn't work out well.
6)If the dash board starts vibrating while trying to call your child, it really isn't a good sign.  In fact, it's a bad sign.  Check the tiny cubby underneath the dash.  It will be the beginning of a nightmare.
7)Know what your child is wearing.  Calling home to see if your younger children remember will lead to disappointment.
8)Know that when you page your child on the white courtesy phone, you are now stuck at the United ticket counter until they respond to your page. (Unless you finally get a call from your husband informing you that your child is waiting at the parking pay stations.)
9)Pray.  And don't think too much about the news.
10) When you are finally reunited and the day is basically gone and you are both emotionally and physically drained, and you are very thirsty, and Starbucks is OUT OF LEMONADE for the shaken iced tea lemonades, don't sip your child's iced coffee.  It is NOT satisfying and will only suck the moisture from your tongue and leave a horrible aftertaste and you will only regret it and further confirm that you will never,ever, ever be a coffee person.  

So after all of that, we did do Ikea and really didn't care any more.  You can't decide between yellow, gray or pink for your dorm room? Who cares? Just throw a little of each in the cart.  It doesn't even matter.

And then, to shorten the fiasco, Ryan offered to do my Winco shopping. I gave him bits of my list at a time over the phone--loudly.  I was in Target.  He was in Winco saying "what?" and I was shouting  random things like: "Little Smokies!" and "Macaroni!" in the towel aisle.

Then we finally met up at Costco and did THAT, and then I rode home with Ryan in his car.  (Have I said how great my husband is?  He is great! Because of him we got home an hour earlier with his help.) So we rode home in his hot Hyundai with the windows down, shouting our conversation over the rush of air and enjoying the beautiful sunset with our daughter following behind.    Tomorrow, we will be up early for the wisdom teeth extraction and another adventure.  I am wondering if back at PDX they are still paging her every fifteen minutes..... I guess we'll see in two weeks when I go back to pick up my Virginia family.
         

Confessions of a Not Great Mom

Okay, I'm going to get real tonight.  You will feel better about your own mothering. I promise. I am going to let you in on one of my biggest failings.  It is something my husband will shake his head at, and my very healthy and active family and friends have probably long suspected, but I am a Fast Food Drive-Thru Queen.   Someday I will be a healthy and active person too, but not now.  It's just "not my season".  (This is acceptable Christian homemaker lingo that releases us from self-inflicted guilt.  I am all for it.)  Some day it will be my exercise-regularly-and-drink-arrugala-smoothie season, but for now it is my know-every-value-menu-between-Enchanted-Forest-and-Intel-season.

I'm good at it.  There is a real science to ordering for a family of 7 (now 8), which I hate to say, my husband has not yet mastered.  You never pull up and just throw out one person's order and then wait for the rest of  the car to figure it out, adding a burger here or a fry there. This causes confusion and panic and invariably, tears from the back seat, and is also rude to the person taking the order.  Instead, always, always yell at everybody as you are pulling into the parking lot, letting them know where you are (because their heads have been buried in their electronic devices and they will be clueless and dazed), and let them know the price limit, telling them to figure it out NOW.

 There are 3 cars ahead of you, and you want their decisions by the time there is only one.  Then, when you do pull up, you can rattle off in an orderly fashion: 2 bacon cheddar McChickens, 6 cheese burgers, 1 cheeseburger Happy Meal for a boy child with chocolate milk to drink, and 6 regular McChickens.  Then they tell you to please pull forward into the burger purgatory space because your order will take a little more time.  Once you have your order, you instruct the child in the front passenger seat to count how many sandwiches and fries you've been given. If the number matches up, you move on--it doesn't even matter if it is the correct type as long as there is enough. You just go with it. Don't push your luck! Then, and only then, pull out of the lot. And that is how it's done, Folks.

How? How could it come to this?  (I know I am now officially fallen from any pedestal that I may have been wrongfully placed on.)

Tonight, I, myself, was forced to admit how bad it has gotten lately.  My two middle schoolers and I were on our way 45 minutes north to a special youth group event.  We needed a quick dinner. I mentally ran through my options and decided that our home town McDonald's would be faster than our mid-way Arby's (cheaper too. Bonus!)  I informed them of their price limit and my son remembered a bogo offer on an old receipt if we just called and completed a survey for a code.  I handed my daughter the receipt and my phone and told her to go for it.  If she could get the code by the time it was our turn, they could order the "good stuff".  Well, it was a very thorough survey.  We didn't make it. But it did bring to light how ridiculously often we'd eaten at fast food in the past 30 days. (Really, you should know it's bad when you are in line at McDonald's with a still fresh Arby's ice tea in you cup holder.) But officially admitting that you are in the top bracket for how many times you've eaten fast food in the past 30 days is very humbling.

 "Don't fill in the 'other' space", I panic and tell my daughter when they want to know which places we've been.  "We've already told them enough!"   Not my proudest moment.

While this practice is not good or socially or politically or medically accepted, I feel like I've had my reasons.  Now, I will admit that while it is true we are not even doing sports right now, so I don't have that excuse,  I do have a few excuses that I will share such as.....a brand new baby.  And if I need to add to that: home schooling, co-op teaching, youth group hosting, unending dental, orthodontia, and medical appointments, birthday parties and graduations and even a hospitalization that have all been a part of our spring.

So, this is my season: Survival. Imperfection. Chaos. Blessings. French Fries.  Large ice teas.  Gluten.  Let my failures encourage you who are actually handling the craziness with much more preparedness and grace.  And let my failures encourage those of you who can relate that you are not alone.  Someday I might just get my act together. But for now we will pray the Tim Hawkins prayer:  Lord change the molecular make-up of this junk to that of a carrot.

I guess we'll just have to use that coupon code next time.

Red Profile Books, Sleep and More Waiting

Sometimes God allows situations where you become keenly aware that you are not the least bit in control.   The adoption process is one of those.

We are at the point in our adoption journey where I am at a loss for what I should do.   We had such a flurry of potential birth moms for a while, with all of them choosing other families.  This isn't too surprising for us since we have 5 children.  We aren't prime real estate.  But still, we thought by now, somebody would have looked beyond the cover of our profile book and let God open their hearts to us.

With encouragement by our program director, we re-did our profile book.  We made it bigger, less about our family, and more about us as a couple and our desire for another child. We even made the cover red because red is the color of choice we are told.  And since then we have heard exactly nothing.

Of course, all along the way I have had my questions if we are in the right program, if we should pursue an independent adoption, should we go international or maybe do a state adoption?  I've poured over waiting child lists.  I've considered fasting.  We've held family prayer meetings.  I've prayed through sleepless nights.  I've read blogs. I've prayed for the right attitude.  I've packed suitcases to meet birth moms who didn't pan out.  I've wept.  I've prayed some more.

This morning as I was pouring over Psalms, trying to gain some encouragement, God led me to Psalm 127.  I am familiar with this Psalm.  It is read at child dedications, weddings--even church business meetings, etc.    But today He opened it up anew to me.

Unless the LORD builds the house, they labor in vain.

Well, I can feel the truth of that in the very center of my being--the "labor in vain" part. I feel absolutely helpless.  Suffocatingly helpless.

It is vain to rise up early, to retire late, to eat the bread of painful labors....

Hmmm.... new profile book?  Agonizing throughout the day if we are in the right program?  Agonizing throughout the night at times?  Agonizing that we might be altogether crazy to do this at all?

For He gives to His beloved even in his sleep.

Even in his SLEEP??? Even if they don't have the ideal profile??  Even if they are sure that they will fall short when compared to other families???    "EVEN in his sleep."  I must let this wash over me and cool my fevered thoughts.

Behold, children are a gift of the Lord....

Children are a GIFT!   We don't haggle about gifts.  We don't tell the giver "Hey!  You are late with my gift!"  We don't set deadlines for gifts.   We don't worry about gifts.  They are a bonus!  They are a surprise.  They come easily.  We don't worry ourselves over them.  They are provided FOR us.  The giver is working to get it, to provide it, to present it beautifully--all when the giver is ready--all for the purpose of blessing.

I am reminded that my Father is the Giver.  He gave us this desire.  We know that this is a Biblical desire.  We've taken the steps to say we are open to His gift.  It's up to Him.  Now...if I could just rest in this....you might even say: "sleep".  

                               Delight yourself in the Lord,
                        and he will give you the desires of your heart.
                                       Psalm 37:4    

A Movie Recommendation (Best Taken with a Grain of Salt)

Yesterday, when all our friends were seeing Frozen and Saving Mr Banks, we stumbled upon The Secret Life of Walter Mitty.  Ryan and I have the worst luck at choosing movies to watch in the theater. We know it and we sort of accept it.  It seems like whenever there is a blockbuster out that everyone raves about, we either stay home and wait for that to go away, or we choose the one playing at the same time opposite it.

It has become a joke to us that if we are actually paying to see it, it's bound to be bad.  It all started back when we were engaged and we actually went to see Naked Gun 33 and 1/3. (I know. Awful! I almost broke off the engagement.) With the exception of a rare few--mostly the  Lord of the Rings movies--we have been on a bad streak ever since.

We don't go out to movies very often at all, so when we do, I can get my hopes up that it will be worthwhile.  It's funny, we don't play the lottery but I guess when it comes to movies we tend to gamble.  I honestly don't know why. When you take the number of movies we've coughed up the money to see and then divide by the number of disappointments, we have a quotient of like 1.2. I'm slowly learning that reviews are my friend.

At the top of that list of let downs would have to be Water World.  We actually paid to see Water World, people! As poor newlyweds who didn't get out much due to living in a small, Texas town, duties to Uncle Sam, and empty pockets, our one and only movie experience that year was Kevin Costner's colossal flop.  But it lives in infamy in our "date" annals.

Also, we have seen such masterpieces as 50 First Dates, Crocodile Hunter--The Movie, Star Wars Episode 3 (midnight showing, mind you), The Aviator, Matrix Reloaded (would love a refund on all of those) and once ,when on a date by ourselves, when we could have chosen anything, we went with Hotel Transylvania. The first movie we took our kids to was VeggieTales' Jonah.  (It had potential but...no.)  So awful was our record, that when Napoleon Dynamite came along, we liked it so much we actually paid to see it THREE times.  (Does this tell you anything?)

So, yesterday, when we plunked down our money and said "Walter Mitty"  instead of "Mr. Banks", I wasn't hoping for much--maybe just a little entertainment and a couple of mutual laughs with my husband.

But it was fun ALL the way through.  I found myself smiling at the screen, just happy to be there. I felt all the years of being a Date-Movie-Loser slip away as I took in the story and the humor and the beautiful cinematography.  It was a great blend of story, humor, action and adventure.  Ben Stiller was terrific in it (no surprise to my husband). And now there is really no reason for me to get him confused with Adam Sandler ever again. (My husband is shaking his head.)

As the movie came to an end, we were both grinning through tears.  Tears not completely due to the story.  We were struck with disbelief and gratitude.  Ryan leaned over to me and whispered, "I think we just broke our streak."

10 Christmas Traditions that I Don't Do and Refuse to Feel Guilty Over

Well, it's the time of year when all the social media posts and Christmas letters can make us moms feel less than adequate and maybe behind the game.  So, I've compiled a list of things I honestly don't do (and why) to sort of help off-set any Non-Perfect-Christmas Guilt you may be suffering from.... I'm NOT alone, am I??

1) Visiting Santa

There's enough available conflict without trying to explain to my husband why I dropped $40 dollars on a photo with a scary old man holding our children.

2) Christmas Cards. 

  Okay, I used to do this one, and spent many a stressed out Christmas season over it. It did make some sense back in our Military days. Now I just lay it all out on Facebook a status at a time so you already know everything. EVERYTHING.                                                      

3) Christmas Photos.

I used to do this one too and would completely stress out over everything from the outfits,the background, who would take our picture, to getting into and out of Costco to pick them up.  And then there were the years when not all the kids would cooperate and we had to photo shop non-crying heads on. We have a particularly horrifying one of "baby Summer" who looks like a doll with her head screwed on backwards.  I still cringe.  And there's "angry Reagan" who was experiencing resentment at brand new baby Jason.   But once again, the power of social media has saved us from this torture.   There is the downside of less record of family cuteness.  And as you all grow older that proof becomes more valuable.

4) The Christmas Pickle.

 I could actually go either way on The Pickle.

5) Baking for Neighbors.

This one KILLS me!!  I would LOVE to bake for the neighbors....if Christmas were on the 31st.

6) Eggnog.

I'm Baptist.  (I claim that to get out of lots of things that make me gag.)

7) Ugly Sweater Parties.

I guess the reason is because I've never really been invited to one--probably because of #6.

8) Elf on the Shelf.

I will answer this one with a question:  Why WOULD I???  I just don't get it!  Actually, I do--that's why I don't!  If my kids won't behave without me driving myself insane, then lock me up now!

9) Christmas Cookies and Gingerbread Houses

They just don't taste good enough to invest that kind of time and effort, in my opinion.  BUT, just so you know that I DO love my children and it's not ALL about me, I do BUY sugar cookie dough and ready-to-assemble gingerbread houses....for the children's sake.  (But never both in the same year.)

10) Christmas Crafts/ Homemade Gifts

I'm not crafty the other 11 months of the year, why would I start now!?

Bonus~ Clean House

I admit it.  I don't clean my house for Christmas.  I have tried.  I have TRIED.  But I just can't succeed in anything but frustration and guilt.  My room is a pile of Christmas wrap and ribbons and countless scraps on the floor.  The bathrooms and main room floors were cleaned the week before, and we try to de-clutter the main rooms as much as possible right before the extended family rings the bell, but beyond that, I just can't get it done.  And I am finally OK with that.  It only took about 16 years to realize I can't. And. Christmas. Still. Happens.

Okay.  There you have it!  If these are your traditions, I really do commend you.  It's not easy to give gifts to every person you know and love, send personal greetings and photo updates to everyone in your life, make your house exceptionally beautiful and cheery, bake every yummy cookie you'd like, prepare the feast of the year, host parties, and still remember the Reason we do it all.  May my confessions make your season brighter and a little less free of guilt. And may your children appreciate the traditions that you DO do!    Merry Christmas!!

Days Like This

Days like this I'm reminded about my need for a Savior.

Days where the kitchen is messy and the dishwasher never got unloaded and dinner still needs to be made.

Days where the little one didn't get a nap and we braved the stores with the pre-Thanksgiving throngs.
 
It's days like this where the pressure to finish up school work and take those already over-due tests breeds exhaustion and short tempers.

Days where just one more request sends me over the edge and sin rears its ugly head.

It's days like this with a phone call that life is short and fragile and unfair.

Days where the future is uncertain and the present is exhausting.

It's days like this that highlight my nature.

That I need a Savior.

That I have a Savior.

He's paid for today and He is there for tomorrow.

The bad news of today, the failures of today, the exhaustion of today is actually redeemed by Him, to point me to Him.

Hallelujah! What a Savior!



 


 

What I Learned In Children's Church Last Sunday and How It Encouraged Me In Our Adoption Journey

I was teaching.  And I'm thankful that when I am out of the regular church service, busy with the kids, God still meets me where I am--literally--and teaches me lessons that I need.

OUR lesson was on the story of Abraham sending his trusted servant to choose a bride for his son Isaac.  He sends his trusted servant back to his old homeland to find a wife.  His servant prays to God for very specific direction through a sign so that he might know who to approach, and miraculously, God answers very specifically through that sign.  (It's all found in Genesis 24 if you want to read it.)    And then, the servant presents gifts, and then thanks the Lord publicly, and then ends up going back to her house to meet the family, spill the beans about why he's there handing out gold jewelry pieces, and ask for their daughter's hand in marriage for his master's son.

 And there's more!  They discover that they are family of Abraham and this is pretty influential in the whole process too.  And the servant tells about God's blessing on Abraham (which couldn't have hurt either) and how his specific prayer was answered.  The dad and brother discuss the providence of God in this and agree to send their daughter back with the servant.  It seems like it's all worked out and then BAM!  The mother and brother say to "hold on", that the girl--Rebekah should stay 10 days before they let her go.  But the servant is anxious to get back to his master, and after some discussion they agree to let Rebekah decide when to go and she agrees to go now.  And THEN, there's this long, hot, dusty camel ride journey to get back to Abraham's new home in Canaan.  When they finally get there, Isaac is out moseying through a field and sees them coming from far off and they see each other and meet.  And marry.  And it says that "He loved her."

Now here's where I was encouraged: Isaac was at home waiting.  He knew he wanted a wife--even needed one.  He was not allowed to go on the expedition.  He didn't get much say in the whole matter that we can see.  He could only wait at home, and carry on each day with the work and responsibilities before him.  He wasn't aware of the spiritual drama unfolding in Nahor.  Nor was he aware of the minute practical persuasions happening.  He didn't get email updates stating : "We'll be presenting your profile to a young lady at the town well today.  She has olive skin, beautiful brown eyes, moves with grace and dignity and is a willing worker.  Are you OK with that?"  He wasn't aware how it was almost worked out and then doubts were raised to delay it.  Nor was he aware that the heart of his future beloved was made sure and confident by God.  He could only wait and pray and carry on.

His moment of joy came when he was presented with his bride at the end of all the details working together for good.  So many details.  But God's hand was active, moving and weaving them all.   It was all out of Isaac's hands, but firmly in God's.   I can relate a little bit.  And THAT's what blessed me in children's church.

"When it appears from earth that God is delaying, He is really putting pieces together that you had not thought of. He is engineering circumstances so that His power and glory will be on display. When God builds a waiting period into the course of our affairs, it means that what He is doing requires it! His apparent delays are loving, purposeful, and deliberate!". ~ Jennifer Kennedy Dean  (with thanks to my friend Tiffany Herring) 

Pioneer Woman Recipe Reviews: Pizza & Chocolate Sheet Cake

It's a Saturday morning and I actually find myself alone in the house.  For a home schooling mother of 5, this is such a rarity.  My big kids are gone having spent the night with friends, my husband is at a Saturday morning men's Bible study and offered to take our 4 year old along to give me the morning to myself.  The condition was for me to relax, so I've decided that I need to finally blog about my latest Pioneer Woman cooking.  I have to be honest, my heart isn't in it, but I feel like I need to "knock it out"  so that I can move on to a 53rd viewing of Pride and Prejudice or maybe Cranford---I haven't quite decided.  So, here goes....

About a week ago, I went to one of the book's most intriguing recipes to me: Potato and Leek Pizza.
Yes, you read that right.  Potato and Leek Pizza!  I had my doubts too, but it turns out that Pioneer Woman knows a thing or two about "yum".  I used her pizza crust recipe to start things off.  I've decided that  recipe is fairly user friendly.  It rolls out much, much more easily than the pre-made dough I usually buy at Winco.  Her recipe uses a few simple ingredients--I'm all about that!  It has:

1 tsp dry yeast
4 cups all purpose flour
1 tsp salt
1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil

So, once you have your foundation ready you get to work on the fun stuff.  The Potato and Leek Pizza calls for 3 leeks, bacon, olive oil, salt, freshly ground black pepper, fresh mozzarella, parmesan and goat's cheese.  (I used feta in place of the goat's cheese 'cause I'm no connoisseur and it's all the same to me.)  And the final ingredient: thinly sliced red or Yukon gold potatoes (I used russet because that is all I had and I wasn't about to wait for another trip to the grocery store.)

I'd say the toughest part is washing the leeks and getting all the grit out.  Once that is done, it's smooth sailing.  You fry the bacon, then you fry the sliced leeks in the bacon grease---this I think was key to the whole taste bud experience.

I also made another version that Pioneer Woman offered in her book of Tomato Basil Pizza.  With pre-made pesto, this was incredibly easy and very good as well.

I put both pizzas on my pizza screens to bake.  This, it turns out, was a big mistake.  With all the fresh tomatoes and juicy leeks and potatoes involved, there was a lot of liquid.  A lot.  This liquid caused everything to bubble and spit and leak and drip onto the bottom of our ovens causing massive, massive smoke.  This, in turn, caused massive, massive chaos as we sprinted to open doors and windows and don our oxygen masks.  But it was a great bonding time as the kids were drawn in to "help" with their use of instagram and comments like: "Mom's cooking again."  "I can't breathe!!" and "The neighbors are watching!!" and "Are you sure you know what you're doing??"

But the whole thing eventually worked out making the real title: Smoked Potato and Leek Pizza.  It was absolutely delicious!  I have never used fresh mozzarella in my own cooking before.  *Gasp*  But I've told you before, I'm not a gourmet, nor a connoisseur of anything except cheap and easy.  But so wonderful was my experience with this delightful product that I found myself placing another double pack in my cart last time I was at Costco.  Do it!  Use the fresh stuff!  What a difference!

The whole family loved both pizzas.  It was probably evenly split as to whether it was the Potato & Leek or the Tomato-Basil that was favored, but everyone agreed that they were both heavenly.  I give both recipes 5 stars.

To add to the deliciousness of our lives that week, I also tried the Chocolate Sheet Cake recipe.  OH. MY. GOODNESS.  It was a buttery, chocolaty, rich-but-not-rich, decadent piece of art.   I no longer care about pumpkin pies, peppermint bark, ginger cookies, etc.  I would be satisfied to make just this one dessert for the holidays and go to a quiet corner and celebrate.

Try these recipes at the risk of setting you back a week on your diet, but also know that there is always next week. To everything there is a season, and this is your season for pizza and chocolate cake.

Adoption~The Waiting

I checked my email for the umpteenth time today and saw her name and my heart fell.   You see, if we were chosen we would get a phone call.  Not to be chosen means an email.  A kind one, but one that says we were passed over.   

A week of wondering and holding your breath--almost literally--can take a toll.  You know not to get your hopes up.  You have like 10 kids already and you aren't young and they can tell.  You know not to hope too much.  And yet, you do.  Is it possible for a mother to not get her hopes up? Even one with like 10 kids?  I don't know. 

 For a few minutes you think you may have a fighting chance at being chosen--after all, your profile is pretty good for someone who already has like 10 kids.  But then the doubts take over.  The uncertainty. "Why the heck WOULD they chose us?" And "Lord, why are we doing this?  Is this just me?  Do You have this in mind too?"    

You try not to think about it. You home school for the day.  You post non-sense on facebook.  You make spaghetti sauce from scratch.  The blender explodes and you clean it up.  It explodes 3 more times and you keep cleaning it up, hoping to think about what's in front of you instead of what's on your heart.   You post a status to let a little of it out.  And then you delete thinking no one needs to hear it.   And then you try again and delete.  "Turn to Jesus", you finally tell yourself.

And as a waiting parent--for anyone, really--THAT is the best advice available: "Turn to Jesus".  

         Give all your cares and worries to God, because He cares for you. 
                                           1 Peter 5:7  
        I love the Lord because he hears my voice and my prayer for mercy. 
        Because he bends down to listen, I will pray as long as I have breath! 
                                           Psalm 116:1&2 NLT 

So, you pour out your heart to Him.  Because that's all you can do.  That's the problem with waiting--there's nothing to "do".  And that's the blessing of waiting--giving up the "doing".

And as I've waited, I've more earnestly taken in Scripture.  Isn't that always the case when we, His children, are waiting?  Waiting to hear a health report, waiting for a job, waiting in loneliness for...?  I'm not sure any of us would choose that period of waiting. We wait because we are clueless on our own for the answers.  We have no choice.  We are not in control.  And we never know this fact better than when we are in a period of waiting.  We are totally dependent on God--acknowledging His sovereignty.  His Word takes on new life, new meaning.  It is the only thing that soothes us when we are in this state of particular awareness.  

Today, as we reached the one week mark since we learned of this particular birth mom, I was very aware of our school verse for the day:  "And we know that God causes all things to work together for good, to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose." Romans 8:28   What can I do but cling to it?  ALL things.  For GOOD.  To those who are called ACCORDING to HIS PURPOSE.    This waiting.  This not knowing.  This clinging to Him.  It is all for His purpose.  And He will make it beautiful in His time.

John Piper posted a bit of Jeremiah 32 today so I looked it up.  Here is what I found:
"O Sovereign Lord! You made the heavens and earth by your strong hand and powerful arm. Nothing is too hard for you!"........

“I am the Lord, the God of all the peoples of the world. Is anything too hard for me? ..........

" I will certainly bring my people back again from all the countries where I will scatter them in my fury. I will bring them back to this very city and let them live in peace and safety.  They will be my people, and I will be their God.  And I will give them one heart and one purpose: to worship me forever, for their own good and for the good of all their descendants.  And I will make an everlasting covenant with them: I will never stop doing good for them. I will put a desire in their hearts to worship me, and they will never leave me.  I will find joy doing good for them and will faithfully and wholeheartedly replant them in this land."~NLT

God's people the Israelites were waiting.  They were waiting for the day when God would restore them to their homeland.  And God did.  At the proper time. The day was set.  And when He did it, it was because of His goodness.  It was because He had a purpose.  And He found joy in doing it.  He still works things together for good for those who love Him.  

As I consider this adoption--the one that feels a tad hopeless because of our big family, our ages, our unconventionality--I know that if it happens, it will happen because God has done it.   It will have nothing to do with our nice profile booklet, or the words we poured our hearts into.  It will have nothing to do with my worry & anxiety.   It will be because God has directed it.  Because He says that it will be for good for us, for the baby and for the precious birth mom. It will be for His purpose.  He is able to draw us all together at just the proper time as His doing alone.  He is able. And I can rest in this.  I can rest in this waiting.

As I scanned that email with a heavy heart this afternoon, I found that it was not quite the final closure on this scenario.  The birth mom has not yet made a decision.  We will continue to pray for her, for her baby, and for how God might use us in all of this.  And we will wait. 

He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end. ~ Ecclesiastes 3:11

PS- We don't really have 10 kids.  It just looks like it in the profile book.  We actually just have 5.

Pancakes and Pot Roast

What could be more classically American than Pancakes and Pot Roast?

My husband is the chief pancake chef around here and he is excellent!   When we were first married we tried the mixes and felt let down.  They just didn't taste like mom-used-to-make.  My husband set out to find a good recipe and was very successful.  We haven't looked back since. Until......I saw the recipe for Edna Mae's Sour Cream Pancakes in the PW cookbook.  I needed to get to it anyway, but anything with sour cream cooked into it intrigues me deeply and the pile of imperfect perfection in the photo made my mouth water.

Last Saturday was the day.  I went ahead and doubled the batch because it claimed to make about twelve 4 inch pancakes.  Since we have 7 people I thought we'd at least like 2 a piece.  The doubled recipe barely squeaked out 2 a piece.  I even measured the batter as I poured.  Next time I would triple the batch.

But other than the amount produced, there was nothing disappointing about these imperfect looking beauties.  They were absolutely delicious!  Everyone (including the chief pancake maker) couldn't contain their pleasure as they partook.  

The one little caution would be that they don't show their level of "doneness" like traditional pancakes with the air bubbles showing before you flip.  Instead, you have to really pay attention to the amount of time per side.  It is well worth the trouble.  

Right after the breakfast dishes were cleaned up, I went to work on the pot roast for dinner.   If you are like me, you have fond memories of the pot roasts of your youth but they seem to elude you as an adult.   I have pulled off a handful of decent roasts, but it seems like they are so easy to dry out.  It's pretty disappointing to endure the tantalizing smell of it cooking all day only to bite into slightly beef flavored saw dust in the end.    It is not so at all with this recipe.  There was no disappointment whatsoever.  It was bliss served up on a plate.

I think a couple of the keys to the success of this recipe are that 1) you brown the onion and carrots before adding them to the pot.  This gives them an incredible flavor.  And 2) you add 2 -3 cups of beef stock to the pot at the beginning and it yields moist, tender results.

We all agreed that this was the best roast we'd maybe ever had.  ( I say "maybe" because we are all susceptible to hyperbole in the face of sheer yumminess.)  If you've given up on making a really good roast, I say "not yet"!  You've got to give this one a try!   I know the Sunday dinners of my future are looking promising.

Thoughts on Adoption

We are in the process of a second adoption.  We are in that gray, undefined period of time known as Waiting.  We've completed all our paperwork, had our interviews,fingerprints, medical exams, written our personal history, philosophy, and disclosed our personal finances.  We've even made our profile book--thanks to my oldest daughter.   We are now just waiting.

I think a lot of waiting moms use this time to prepare for their child, maybe design a nursery, collect baby items, etc.   As I wait, I think, rethink, analyze, doubt, question, pray and start the cycle again. (My husband is pretty laid back.  He just goes on with life. I have no idea how he does it!) You must bear in mind that my mental process is not of a childless woman--I'm assuming their struggles are similar in many areas, but also different and much tougher in other ways.  I can only write from where I am in my life as a mom to five.

When we were waiting for my youngest, we had struggles then too.  We were concerned that we were getting too old to be a fun, normal family. (We're even older now!) We were concerned with and questioned ourselves on becoming a trans-racial family. (Now we are one!)  We were concerned with possibly throwing a wrench into our happy family of biological-ness. (Nope!  Our joy and fun has been magnified.) We were concerned that we would be able to get a loan to finance the adoption.  (God supplied at the very hour of need. ) Then we were concerned with how we would ever pay back the loan. (God graciously provided.)   As I look back at those concerns and compare them to the ones I have now, I see some similarities and then I see some as not an issue this time.  I also see that God was completely faithful--that what He called us to, He saw us through.

And yet I mull.  If you are one who seeks after God's will for your life, and if you are pregnant, you typically don't question whether or not it's God's will for you to add to your family.  But when you have 5 children and are 40, and you have to choose to go into significant debt to do it,  it's a different ballgame--at least for me. But  as I think and re-analyze, I am reminded that HE laid this on our hearts.  HE gave us the desire.  We can't imagine life without our little one--he adds so much joy and spark and LIFE.  We are BLESSED.

A couple of big encouragers to me are:
 1) My husband.  How many men would choose to go this route when they've got a house full??  My son pointed this out one evening when we were all sitting around talking.  He's so right.  This takes some unusual love and selflessness.  I am so blessed to have him as a godly example to our children that this life is for serving God, being about HIS business, taking care of who God has entrusted to him and being unafraid to take on more responsibility.
 2) My older kids.  They continually bless me with a heart for adoption.  They are willing and excited to share the love.  They also soothe my fears with saying things like:  "Mom, you should see how old some of my friends' parents are.  You'll be fine."  And:  "We'll all just crowd in in this house.  It'll be fine!  We won't need to move again!!"   However, they could do better with their vehicle perspective: "We need a bigger car!! When can we get a bigger car?? We're so uncomfortable back here! Ouch! get your elbow out of my ribs!"  Ah, well...can't have it all I guess.
 3)  And then there's our little one. Our sought after, prayed for one.  The one added in faith and fear.  Oh, where to start?  Where to end once I start?   He is the best encouragement for this second adoption--this child that God miraculously placed in our family.  When I hear him pray or sing a song about Jesus, when I see him joyfully interact with a godly daddy--HIS daddy, when I see his brother or sister put their head to his and talk gently with him, when I lift him up into the grocery cart, when I hear him giggle, when I snuggle with him on his pillow with a book, when I feel his arms around my neck, when he smashes up next to me, I know.  I KNOW that this is what we should be doing.  It may or may not happen a second time.  But we will, in faith, take the steps, and God will direct how He sees fit.

A couple of extra random thoughts:
1) People have said how lucky or blessed our little one is.  On the contrary--WE are blessed.
2) People sometimes assume that you are adopting to do a good deed.  While there are adoptions that do rescue, we adopted because we desired a child. Bottom line. We adopted to fulfill a desire. I wish I were more saintly.  But that is the truth.
3) Foreign adoptions are needed but so are Domestic.
4)Don't let the idea of being debt-free be the main reason keeping you from this ministry/blessing.  I don't know anyone who can pay for this out-right. (Something I continue to re-hash.)
5)We are not Home yet.