Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Sandi Patti was Wrong

Love is any language is Thomas the Tank Engine Pajamas. 

Also, I would like to transcribe a letter from Henry to these two sweeties, Jacob and Jeremiah. 


Dear my African friends who are boys and are named Jacob and Jermi-uh,
You live in Africa now but you will come to America.  Do you want to come to my house to play trains?  You should bring some African animal babies with you when you come to Henry's house.  You can have my bathing suits that don't fit me anymore.  I am getting bigger.  Do you have trains at your house?  Maybe I can come to your house and play trains.  (It was at this point that I reminded him that a) we bought the boys a big box of trains and track last fall, and b) it's rude to invite yourself over to someone else's house.)  Goodbye!

Jacob and Jeremiah, we cannot wait to see you and hold you and fist bump you and play trains with you. I promise you won't always have to wear Henry's hand-me-down PJs.  But you boys make Thomas look GOOD.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Christmas Eve


It’s here.  My buddies Cindy and Andy leave tomorrow to go pick up their sons Jacob and Jeremiah from Ethiopia.  While they are there, they will have their embassy appointment, meet with other adoptive parents, and even see about helping someone set up a daycare for young children in order to perhaps do some orphan prevention.  And Cindy has been planning--Getting childcare for the siblings staying home this time, taking stuff to give to the boys’ friends who will continue to wait for their families in Addis Ababa, packing to go somewhere less comfortable.  And they are excited.  Beyond excited, actually.  Is there a word that describes a person that is so excited about meeting a child they love so dearly and yearn for deeply to the point that every pore is seeping love and they just can’t sit still?  Because that’s how Cindy is. 
What struck me this morning as I prayed for them, is that what she is most excited about is not the trip to get them, but the homecoming.  She’s got their room all ready.  A potluck has been planned.  There are toys and books and clothes and friends just waiting for them to arrive.  She’s not so much excited about the journey to get them, but the life she’ll spend loving them thereafter.
Through Cindy and Andy’s adoption of their boys, I am seeing a tiny glimpse of what the FIRST Christmas Eve must’ve been like for God.  He must’ve been pacing heaven beside all three of Himselves, overbrimming with joy.  Perhaps the Holy Spirit was talking about the big band of angels He’s prepped to announce the Son’s arrival.  Perhaps the second person of the Trinity, whom we would come to know as Jesus, was getting used to the idea of wearing skin from now on.  Perhaps Jesus was smiling at the thought of the people He’d heal and lives He’d change, trying to avoid thinking about what was coming at the end of His incarnate stay.  But the Father?  I’m guessing, that like Cindy, He was looking forward to the homecoming. 
The incarnation was God going on His journey to retrieve His sons and daughters from this here orphanage called Earth.  It was dirty.  And smelly.  And sweaty.  There was weird food and strange bedfellows.   There was government red tape.  There was death. 
But God pressed on.  Looking forward to the incarnation and the being with his people in their country, yes.  For certain.  And doing all that He could to enable them to make their stay there cleaner, nicer, safer, more “Homelike” and less like an orphanage. But it would never be home.  The best He could make it would be Home-like.
But you'd better believe my room is ready.  He has probably spoken some wicked artwork onto the walls the likes that Etsy has never seen.  Maybe He's even hired that band of angels again.  But His true joy, and my true joy as His daughter, is the homecoming.  When I’ll see my room for the first time and I’ll grab my big brother Jesus’ hand and we’ll jump on the bed, then run outside and jump in puddles, then maybe have some SpongeBob Squarepants popsicles and dance to the band.  And we’ll laugh and dance and holler and sing till we’re dizzy.  And He’ll say to me, “Oh, my sweet daughter, how I’ve longed to hold you in my arms.  You’re home now.  You’re home.”

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

A Real Conversation

Henry:  Mom, don't you have some work you need to do?
Me:  Umm, I always I have work I need to do.  But I'm enjoying playing Legos with you and Gracie.
Henry: But if you did work on the 'pooter, we could watch TV.
Me: (laughing) I'll let you watch some TV while I work during Gracie's naptime.
Henry:  But Gracie likes TV too. 
Me: (looking at Gracie jump up and down on the trampoline) I think she's okay.  We'll wait until she goes to sleep.
Henry:  I guess that's okay.  Mickey Mouse is On Demand.
Me: I'm glad my work schedule is to your liking.
Henry: Yeah.  It's cool.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Beach Vacay (and the pictures that prove it)

Alligator Adventure should also be called Tortoise Adventure. 

Mom, wait!  I gotta check da map to say where we go!

 Gracie enjoys the show at Alligator Adventure, but wasn't too sure about touching the snakes or gator.
The first of MANY spongebob popsicles.  
Seriously, we probably spent $50 on popsicles over the course of the week.  Next trip, I'm buying a case of them and taking them with us.  Geesh!


Do I have something on my nose, Mom?

Seriously, Mom?  This is the lamest photo op ever!  Hurry up and take the picture.

This is just before Henry pressed the emergency stop button on the moving sidewalk.  Hey Ripley's, how about not making them bright red and putting them right at a preschooler's eye level?  

Hi.  I'm Henry.  It says so on my shirt.  I know I look 15, but I'm only 4.

 All that.  And a bag of chips.
Are you kidding me?
Cutest. Baby. Ever.

In lieu of afternoon naps, we just gave her lots of Oreos.

Poor Henry fell off the golf cart, rolling into the middle of a traffic circle.  Thankfully, he was fine.  His whole face looked dirty by the afternoon, but it was just bruising.  And he also bruised up his knees, hip, and father's spirit.  But two bowls of Chocolate Blue Bell ice cream and he was right as rain.




Monday, June 13, 2011

Not today, world. Not today

Last week was a dream.  We spent it at the beach.  Sleeping in.  Playing in the sand, drifting in the lazy river, eating popsicles, walking on the boardwalk.  Seeing far too many tattoos.  I'll be sure to post the pics.  Short of a near death experience where Henry fell off the moving golf court and bloodying his chin, and bruising his face and hip, it was as all vacations should be--joyful.  Perhaps even more so because of Henry's fall, each cuddle, laugh, and embrace was cherished.  The week even ended with a surprise day of fun with my sorority sister Janell's family.

But today, augh, today.  Henry was in vacation detox.  No amount of fun at "Caribbean Vacation" camp at the gym could contain it.  And I was in no shape to re-enter the reality of bills, laundry, an IRS audit (because they're auditing everyone who applied for an adoption tax credit this year--awesome), whiny kids, and a husband who travels for work.  Augh.

I promise I'll post pics of the beach trip when just thinking about trying to find the camera doesn't make me want to cry.  I think the only thing I did right today was put on my socks.  Which beats my yesterday, where I wore my dress to church inside out. 

Life:1. Elizabeth: 0.

Friday, June 3, 2011

God is sneaky

It's no secret in Scripture that God has a heart for the orphan.  It makes logical sense that our Heavenly Father would be particularly enamored with those without an Earthly father.  He sets the lonely in families.  And He commands His people to care for the orphan.
And certainly it is out of a desire for provision and care for the orphan.  Changing orphans into sons and daughters is right up there with creating mountains and singing songs on God's "Favorite Things to Do List".
But there is more about this command to care for the orphan than meets the eye.  You see, it is not just about the orphan.  It's not just the orphan that God is changing: entire families and communities are changed.  
Every time I see Grace, I just can't help but be reminded of God's goodness.  Of the fact that most certainly God is making all things new.  That God spared her life and gave her enough fight to be able to withstand all the drugs and disease she was born into.  That He empowered Sloan to stand up to me.  That He softened my heart to submit to Sloan.  That He gave us the faith to trust Him in loving this little girl.  And now she is not only healthy, but literally bouncing off the walls with joy.
A couple of weeks ago, a woman at my church came up to me after the service in tears because she said God was using Grace and Henry's love for one another (and the way they both fight to be in their Daddy's arms during hymns) to preach the Gospel to her.
And it's not just Grace.  Because of two little boys in Ethiopia, I now desperately pray for that nation.  I pray that the bureaucratic changes in the US Embassy won't delay their homecoming.  I pray for the friends they'll leave behind in Addis Ababa and the nannies who care for them.  I pray for the people of Ethiopia.  That they would not be plagued with war and famine.  That men and women from wealthy nations would continue to serve them and more health care would be provided to them.  I pray that one day it will not be a nation with 5 million orphans. Because now the peoples of Ethiopia are my cousins.  Those orphans--my nieces and nephews.  They have my heart.
Through adoption, God is teaching me a "we" mentality.  That "those" people who don't look like me are still "my" people.  Just last night, while watching So You Think You Can Dance, I took ownership of these two African American sisters who were dancing.  I saw in them a bit of my own love for dance, my love for my sister, and also a foreshadowing of what my daughter might look like in 15 years.  And so I rooted for them as mine in a way I suspect I wouldn't have two years ago.

Oh, Jesus, you're a sneaky one.  Making us think that caring for orphans is our good deed, when really You want to change us too.  Well played, Jesus.  Well played.

Thursday, June 2, 2011

Oh, My Margaret, Little Margaret Grace

This girl is sweet as pie.  She loves to kiss and cuddle, particularly her Daddy.  She talks ALL the time.  Sometimes she even uses words.  If she is really emphatic, she'll use words and her entire body. 
Say, perhaps, she wants more milk.  First, she'll bring me her empty sippy cup.  To which I'll say, "Oh, Grace, you have an empty sippy cup."  Then she'll start signing "more".  I'll say, "Oh,  you want more.  More of what?"  Then it is full body signing, jumping up and down, saying "Mo, mo, mo!!!"  Were I to ask if she wanted more juice, she would throw the back of her hand up to her forehead and say, "No, no, no!"  and then she would once again start jumping, chanting "Mo mo mo!"  So I say, "Oh, you want more milk?" at which point, she chips "Yes" and gently tosses me her cup.
She also says the following words (yes, it's a long list): Momma, Dadda, Budder (brother), Aimee, more, up, down, dog, monkey, duck, NO!, yes, hi! (and dang it you better wave at her when she waves at you!), poopy, diaper, jump, ball, moo, woof, quack, shoe, truck, choo choo, baby, share, mine, juice (although, to be clear, she says "Jews" and I really hope no one is offended by that), cracker, cookie, book, chair, hug, kiss, thank you, please, and done.


I've taken to changing the tune of the folk song "Eliza Jane" and changing the words to Margaret Grace.  We like to hold hands and dance around the family room as I sing, "Come my love and go with me, Little Margaret Grace, come my love and go with me, little Margaret Grace!"  Henry is more of a willing dancer, holding hands and sashaying around the room with me, while Grace prefers to freestyle.  And sometimes she just wants to hold Henry's hands and not mine, which makes for dancing in a cirlce kinda hard.  So we just promenade in a wonky line.
She also is a fan of just jumping up and down.  And has been for awhile.  In fact, she can get more air than her brother.  And I'm not talking that whole body seizure that is most toddlers jumping a piddly quarter inch off of the ground: my baby gets hang time.  

 She likes to put things away.  If she sees shoes laying out around the house, she will quickly take them and put them in the shoe cabinet in the foyer.  She also, without being asked, is quick to put her empty sippy cup in the sink.  When she finishes her meal, she lets you know by waving at you (one half of the all done sign) and then handing you her plate.  It doesn't matter if you are still eating or if she still has a pile of untouched green beans on her plate, if she hands you her plate--you should take it.  If you don't take it, she will slowly and carefully, one by one, take each and every item off of her plate.  But not to worry, because then, just as methodically, she will neatly rearrange it back on her plate.
She prefers to simply carb load.  Gone are the days when she would eat any and everything I feed her.  Now that she is self-feeding and eating everything we eat, she is more picky.  It used to be that if we were having steak of fish or something chewy, I'd also serve her sliced turkey.  At one lunch, because I was multi-tasking and not really paying attention, and just handing her more turkey to keep her quiet while I  Facebooked cleaned the kitchen, she ate a half pound of sliced turkey.  Now she has gone on turkey strike. (Hmm, wonder why?)  But she loves rice (brown, curry, Mexican, white, fried), yogurt, Cheerios, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, Oatmeal squares, peanut butter, apples, pears, bananas, french fries, strawberries, cheese, spinach pizza, chips and salsa, quesadillas, pasta (both with and without sauce), taco meat, McDonald's chicken nuggets (don't even think about getting her to eat a Chick-fil-A nugget--it looks far too much like actual chicken!), quinoa, bacon, any and all types of Girl Scout cookies, macaroni and cheese, avacado, and crackers.  I promise she gets served vegetables at every dinner and most lunches.  I got really excited the other night when we were having steak, potatoes, and sauteed zuchini and squash.  But no, she was just dipping her zuchinni in the A1 sauce and then sucking it off.  And she is too young to enforce the same rules as Henry.  For Henry, we have the "No, thank you" bite rule.  He has to take one bite of everything on his plate before he can say "No, thank  you".  Last night, I tried to tell Grace that a green bean was like a green french fry and she saw right through it.  So yeah, a lot of nights she just eats rice at dinner and then cries as she sees Henry eating his dessert. 

 And while she is super extra sweet when she is sweet, if you tell her no, she jumps up and down and beats her chest while screaming "No! No! No!"  It is not unlike a gorilla.  No idea where she gets this willful streak from.  (Though my mother tells me she's seen this move before in a little girl...) 
Sometimes she'll even laugh at me when I tell her no.  So I try not to poke the bear. 
And should you be her older brother and kindly ask to take a turn at a toy (to which she will respond, "NO! NO! NO!), and then you take the toy anyways, prepare for total meltdown that you'd swear he poked her with a steak knife.  But she can stop the meltdown on a dime which tells me she is almost as good as her Momma at manipulation.  So Grace, be warned, challenge accepted.

She is loyal.  She will go easily into nurseries and play well with others, but upon seeing me to come get her, she jumps and leaps into my arms and snuggles her curls into my neck.  She adores her Daddy most of all and loves to smother him with kisses.  And sometimes while playing, she'll just randomly go up to Henry and give him kisses.  She'll kiss his arm, his knee, his toes.  This makes Henry fall on the floor with laughter and then they are both lost to giggling for at least ten minutes.
She is also a big fan of blowing kisses.  Big fan. 
And I am her biggest fan.

Oh, my darling, Margaret Grace, you make our lives extraordinary.  Thanks be to God for your sweet life!