Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Tiny Bubbles

So about two weeks ago I gave up soda.  Maybe a little for health reasons.  Maybe a little for "because it seems to be the hip thing to do these days" reasons.  And definitely because I was tired of spending money on it.  As we head into the home stretch of the adoption, we are tightening our budgetary belts around here and that seemed a pretty easy thing to cut.  Of course, Sloan is NOT giving it up, so I'm still buying it in 2 liter bottles.  Because that's cheaper and well, I'm too lazy to pour myself a drink.  Which is kinda what got me addicted to Diet Dr. Pepper in the first place. 

And I miss it.  A lot.  Many of my facebook status updates are about how much I miss soda.  And how all those people who say sparkling water is yummy are charlatans.  Yes, the lie is so egregious that I am forced to use fancy words to describe the lie's enormity.  And I have it on good authority from friends who kicked the habit months and years ago that this longing for soda does not go away.  So that's awesome. 

And yet.

Monday I drank 1 soda.  And not just any soda, but an Orange Fanta.  I drank it slowly.  Deliberately.  At one point, I misplaced my glass of orangey deliciousness and I had to call in a search party and offer a reward.  (By search party, I mean I texted Sloan to "COME UP FROM YOUR OFFICE AND HELP ME FIND MY FANTA OR I'M GONNA CUT SOMEBODY."  And by reward, I mean that I did not, in fact, cut somebody.)  The soda was by my cellphone.  Which was also lost.  Because it was in the middle of the kitchen island. 

Why Fanta? 

Well, folks, we had a court date in the DRC.  And in the Congo, Orange Soda is the drink of celebration.  It is the penultimate sign of luxury.  Well, that and eating protein.  (This is the part of the blog post where we all get a little perspective.  When we pop champagne and sear the filet, the Congolese drink a Fanta and boil an egg.)

So what does this mean?  Well...unfortunately, it means we still have a ways to go but that we are on our way.  I am hopeful we will be traveling this summer.  Could something happen between now and then to push that back, of course.  The adoption laws in the country have changed even since we began.  Because of the popularity of the country's program, the US government is keeping a more watchful eye on agency's and the kids.  And this is a GOOD thing. 

But basically, there is paperwork to be translated and checked.  Then some wait times.  Then some more paperwork and certificates.  Then a judge says, "YUP!  They are yours."  Then we can apply for immigration stuff and visas and passports.  Once those are in, then we can pick our kids up.  Oh, and at some point in the process our agency will fly our kids from where they live now to the capitol to live in a foster home set up there.  (Remember, there are no roads in DRC and this would basically be like going from Miami to St. Louis.)  We will also have to fly up our children's living relative to the capitol so that they can be interviewed by the Embassy to make sure that they understand what international adoption is and is not and that they were not coerced or bribed.

So while the majority of the adoption has certainly been paid for (and God has been so gracious to meet every adoption related need when it was necessary), there are still some pretty big things coming up.  Not the least of which is airline travel.  We've learned that it is typically impossible to use frequent flyer points for travel to DRC because we will receive our letter of invitation to travel on a Wednesday or so and leave the following weekend.  We are looking into other avenues such as credit card points and such and will certainly reach out if that looks like a possibility. 

But we've got some exciting things in the works as to fundraisers.  I've designed a cool Tshirt (yes, I designed it and I'm the one declaring it cool) and will also be gathering items for a Facebook Auction. 

But for now, I'm looking forward to the next tiny step towards C & A, when I will raise my glass of orange bubbly and toast their sweet faces and how dear they are to me. 

(But I will most certainly not be pouring any of the bubbly out for my homies, my kids or anyone else, because y'all, Fanta is really freaking awesome.)

Friday, January 25, 2013

My son, the little monk

In as much as there is an eternal disco party surrounding Grace, there is an abundant gentleness about Henry. He is kind and uniquely tender. Sometimes I worry that when he goes off to school next year he will get made fun of because of it. The mother in me worries he will get beaten up for telling some kid to stop making fun of another child. But then there is another part of me, the sister in Christ, that is in awe to see the Spirit of God at work in my dear son's heart.

Today we headed off to Target to buy baking soda to bake the "Thanks for letting me sleep in until 9:30" cookies. On our way, we had to pull to the side of the road to let an ambulance and fire truck pass. With no prodding from me, Henry chirped, "Mom, we need to pray for the ambulance workers! And for the people they are going to help." So my 5 yr old led us in intercessory prayer for strangers.

Later in the day, I loaded some new books on tape for him to listen to at night onto his IPod, including the entirety of The Jesus Storybook Bible. He usually listens to Dr. Suess and then I turn it off before I go to bed. But as I tucked him in bed and propped his IPod into his speaker, he said, "Mom, can I listen to the Bible as I fall asleep?"

"Sure honey," I replied.

"But please don't turn it off. Let it play all night long. Because the Bible is God's word and I want to hear Him all night long. Even in my dreams."

Oh, to long to hear God's voice speaking to me at all times.

Thank you Jesus for a son and brother who points me to you. Continue to bear fruit in his little life. Give me the strength to stand back and let him be bold for your sake.

Thursday, January 24, 2013

A Real Conversation

Attempt #3,427 to teach my kids that good choices lead to happy consequences and bad choices to sad--

Me: If you let Mommy sleep in past 8:30 tomorrow, we will stay in our Jammies until lunch and bake chocolate chip cookies.

Henry: What happens if we wake you up early?

Me: Well, I won't have slept in so I can guarantee it won't include chocolate, cookies, or jammies.

Henry: So, like running errands and doing chores?

Me: Exactly. AND you will have to get dressed.

Grace: (dramatically falls to the floor) NOT DRESSED!!!

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Green Belt Project

Our boy is now a junior green belt.  I'm so proud of him. 


He has been working hard on learning the answers to all of the questions on the tests, practicing at home his stances and kicks.  He can even count to ten in Korean.  The martial arts have certainly helped him to focus and have certainly improved his motor skills.  I'm just so proud of his determination.  And even more so how kind and tender he is to his classmates and how he is he only one to stay behind each week to help his instructor put away the cones, targets, and punching blocks. 

I can't wait to celebrate his accomplishment tomorrow night with a celebratory dinner at his favorite restaurant, Kabuto.


Note that Instructor Carlton cracked his usual serious demeanor because he clocked Grace.  She'd just used the water fountain and looked as though she had just had a cooler of Gatorade dumped on her head.  



Monday, January 14, 2013

Settled (lessons learned in 2012)



I’ve written this post a thousand times in my head.  So much that now it seems I really feel like I’ve already said it all even though I haven’t written a word.  But here’s the shorthand version of what I’ve learned in the past year or so.  The little tidbits God taught me about Himself, myself, adoption, and life in general.

Don’t Feed the Crazy.
I’ve said it before.  Crazy is like a gator on a golf course—feed it and it will hang around and eventually will bite you in the bum.  Ignore it and it’ll leave you alone and, perhaps, go away.  This advice holds true whether it’s your in-laws, some yahoo commenting on Facebook, or even that little voice in your head.  Just let other folks be crazy.  It’s not your job to make them sane or correct them.  Leave the room.  Block the feed.  Tell that voice to sell crazy somewhere else.  Life is short and you’ve got real stuff to deal with.

There’s Dr. Pepper in the Dr. Pepper Can
I have been known to lose my temper.  Because the kids don’t listen, because the seat was left up, because all I asked was for him to take out the recycling and it’s still on the back porch.  But guess what?  I’m angry because I have anger inside me.  I can’t be made angry.  It’s already there, bubbling under the surface.  And I have to own that and repent.  Then, and only then, am I able to quietly return to my daughter and ask her to try again to come when called, to remind Henry about bathroom etiquette, and calmly say, “Hey, I went ahead and took out the recycling but please try and get to it next time, thanks.”

And the same goes for other people.  It helps to ignore the crazy if you remember that it has nothing to do with you.  Or even the topic at hand.  Scripture describes it this way “Out of the overabundance of the heart, the mouth speaks.” (Matthew 12:34)  So when someone is angry with you, remember, it’s about them.  They’re just angry.  You don’t have to soothe them or fix it or convince them to calm down.  Generally, if you just listen and try to figure out exactly what it is that let the anger out, you can love them accordingly.  

And when dealing with a toddler’s anger, remember this sage parenting advice:  Don’t negotiate with terrorists. 

Less is less and that’s More
When we moved, we purged a lot.  A lot.  And after the move, we purged some more.  I seriously have no idea how we had so much stuff crammed into the old house when the new house is literally twice as big and still it was too much.  

And I’ve purged elsewhere.  I was just doing too much to be the kind of parent, wife, daughter, friend, and follower of Jesus I want to be.  Every time I say “no” I’m saying “yes” to that.  Though I feel as though I’m introverting a bit, it feels right.  It feels like home.  I have room to breathe.  My main ministry is to my growing family.  That is who I’m serving.  

I’m a Stay at home Mom, and that’s enough
Since I’m a missionary to my kids, I need to treat that with the same level of professionalism and respect that my working friends treat their jobs.  It has value and meaning, even if it only has benefits and no paycheck.  If I’m too busy doing other stuff, then I’m slacking on my job.  Yes, yes, I still facebook and Instagram like a madwoman, but that’s generally in the carpool line or while sitting in time out with one of my little terrorists.  

Patience doesn’t mean liking to wait and Impatience is a sign of mistrust
After the loss of the referrals of K & N, I felt at peace.  It was like I had been splashing about just trying to keep my head above water until then and then we just sunk.  We drowned into Jesus.  And we were fine.  More than fine.

So it has been easier to wait on our adoption journey.  Because of our agency’s unwillingness to participate in unethical practices in a country full of corruption, they won my trust.  I trust our case worker completely.  I know she will keep me in the loop.  I can rest knowing she is advocating for us and our family.  And I’m happy to report that not only is all of our paperwork is in the DRC and we have a court date at the end of January.  We are on track for hopefully traveling this summer to pick up our kids.  

But don’t confuse this with liking the wait.  I’m just trusting that it will happen when God deems it appropriate.  Because when Henry complains that I’m not bringing him a snack fast enough, all high pitched and whiny, it tells me he doesn’t believe it’s going to happen.  And in his case, I do sometimes forget.  But God does not forget me.  He is for me.  He is for my family.  Our names are written on his heart. 

I will say that I owe a lot of these lessons to our new house.  The flow of it just calms me. And the knowledge that we will never move again until it is time to pay someone to bathe us makes me happy. We’ve got a huge basement and a great yard, so to be clear, the kids are elsewhere a lot.  That makes my mothering a tad easier.  But they’re playing and jumping and running around like banchies til they fall asleep in their new Ikea beds.  We are beyond blessed.  Beyond.  Our cups runneth over.  More than enough for our two newest little loves.