Our Birthday Boys

Baby Boy (12), Tink (21), and Hippie Boy's Shadow (8)

Doesn't Libby's cake look fabulous?!
(It tastes as good as it looks)

For my Rock

I married the best guy in the world. OK. I'm sure a few of you married ladies out there might argue with me, so I'll say that I married the best one for me. This whole life, family, adoption, homeschool thing is hard, and I read a lot about families where Dad is just not on board a lot of the time. Maybe he's busy bringing home the bacon, and trust me, we go through plenty of bacon around here. Someone has to bring it home. But all too often it seems as though the wife and mother is the one who is much more emotionally committed to the challenges that the family has taken on. Sometimes hubby seems to be along for the ride in much the same way as the children.

Not so at our house. My husband is willing to step in and shoulder much of the burden, particularly as I become fatigued or discouraged. Today he got the children up for school (the ones who go to school), fed them breakfast and pushed them in the direction of getting dressed, personal hygiene, bed making, stuffing of backpacks. He loaded the lunches I had prepared last night into lunch boxes, and signed notebooks to teachers. He checked to be sure the children had coats and hats and gloves on as they ran out into the frigid air. He plugged in the truck, and let the goat out of her night time stall, being sure her purple coat was securely fastened.

In fact, if I had remembered to lay out clothing for school last night, he would have never woken me at all. As it was, he gently came in and shook me, asking if he should pick out school outfits for the children. I dragged myself out to save him this frustration, but he actually even helped with hair. He also found time to make me a pot of coffee, and bring me some pain reliever, and feel my forehead in response to my query, "Do I feel hot?"

Because I am tired, and irritable, and sick. The holidays were long, and action packed. And I seem to be settling into my regular winter bout of illness. Last night I woke up to an odd noise. It was a loud whistle, that seemed strangely close. I thought maybe the cat who had tucked himself into my armpit was snoring...he does that sometimes. But no, it was my very own lungs, singing a wheezy song. So I hacked a few times, and dislodged whatever was making the racket, and went back to my not so stellar rest.

I don't know what folks do when they feel as though they are in this thing alone. How do we get by without someone who pampers us when we're tired and sick? Now I understand it is short lived. Tonight a large group arrives at camp for busy weekend. Hubby will be churning out meals as fast as he can, so that by the time the buses roll out the back gate on Sunday, he will have served about 1500 meals. Thankfully I can hitch a ride on that train, and avoid cooking for two days. If I'm not coughing too hard, I might make myself useful in the kitchen. Then Monday will arrive, with nine days of glorious vacation! Not that we're going anywhere exciting, but it will be nice to relax and do nothing. While we're doing nothing, I have a really long list of stuff that needs to get done.

For Libby-Lou

Here it is, hung up in a temporary fashion. I have hopes of getting it hung more permanently soon, over great Grandma's antique bed. Actually great, great now that I think of it. It will remind your father and I to be kind to one another even after twenty-one years!

Slow Learner

Once upon a time, a very long time ago, in a land far away (I think it was Rhode Island) I was a young wife and mother. Actually I was a very young wife and mother. In fact, I was married, had my first child, and owned a home before I could legally order a drink. But I had the world by the tail, and I thought I knew everything. It was easy to know everything back then. My marriage was new and fresh, my child was healthy and bright, and God provided for all of our needs and many of our wants as well. It is true that we dealt with all of the issues young married couples deal with. Hubby worked a lot of hours, sleep was scarce with a colicky baby, and money was very tight at times. But seen from the perspective of twenty years later...life was peaceful and good.

Back then I had a friend. We became friends in an odd sort of way, but the friendship stuck for many years. Actually, she had a third daughter who was only a few weeks older than ours, so of course that was an immediate bond. When our little punkin' was tiny, we wanted to have a special service of dedication for her, and their family was looking to have a special service of thanksgiving for the adoption of a child...their second daughter who was about a year old at the time. She was a special needs infant adoption, and at the time her development was very up in the air. Much was unknown. Their eldest daughter had also been a special needs adoption, as an older child. She was a sweet big sister, not without her struggles, but a cute kid. The third daughter who was their only "homegrown" one, at the time, was severely handicapped and medically fragile.

So we had the service together, both sets of parents praising God for their perfect little family. And through the years we remained friends. A few years later they had a fourth daughter as well, physically healthy in every way. I used to watch my friend with her brood, and marvel. Of course back then I had only one, and I thought that could be hard at times. I would see my friend struggling with so many issues...older child adoption issues, learning disabilities, endless battles to find services and help for her children, constant runs to the hospital to literally save her child's life. There was a continuous round of therapies and doctors appointments, and meetings at the school. And through all of this my friend remained "normal". She was active in her church, close to her extended family, attentive to her friends. Their family went on vacations, baked cookies, swam in the pool, went to the beach. In fact, we did our fair share of those things with them, and often. Our families were close, and we enjoyed one another's company. I would watch her children every now and then, and not even give it a second thought. I had known them much of their lives, and was familiar with their challenges. Looking back now, I know it should have scared me to try and take on their care. Anything could have gone wrong at any time, and it frequently did. But I was young and I knew everything back then.

I remember listening to my friend talk for countless hours, describing their days, and struggles, and victories. I know now what she was doing. She was indulging me, and educating me. How in the world could someone as young, and green, and stupid as me presume to understand her life? But she was older, and wiser, and much, much stronger. I am grateful she took the time. I always thought I understood, from my vantage point of looking in from the outside. Sometimes I had the audacity to have my own opinions and secretly believe I would have done things differently or better. Only once did I ever catch a glimpse of the truth, and I have never forgotten it.

We were at the beach, late in the afternoon, coming onto evening. Our families were picnicking together, and the children were running about, under the eyes of two Daddies. I was at the picnic table fussing over food, or messes, and my friend got up to comfort her third daughter who was being fussy in her adaptive stroller. She picked her up and carried her out towards the sea wall, bouncing her like a fussy baby. But she wasn't a baby, she was a little girl, who was growing taller and heavier by the day. My friend was a tiny whip of a woman, little more than skin, and muscle, and bone...with a long blond braid trailing down her back. As she walked away from me I noted what a struggle it was for her to hold and carry the stiff body of her child. A few minutes later I looked up to see them in the distance. Her back was to me, her face to the sea, and her daughter lay outstretched on her arms. Their bodies formed the silhouette of a cross, as the wind whipped both their hair.

I remember staring at the image, shaken by the knowledge that I was looking on something I did not understand. I was humbled by the strength I saw. I never told anyone about that moment. I was still too busy back then, trying to know everything.

I've since lost touch with my friend, and I sincerely regret it. Truly, I'm not even sure how it happened, though I suspect it had more to do with me and my inherent selfishness, and less to do with anything she did or did not do. And now I am her age, or the age she was back then I mean. I am faced with a few of the same struggles and sacrifices that she faced with such grace. I am profoundly grateful now, for all of the time she took to indulge me, and educate me. Again, such grace, to take a spoiled child like me under her wing, and broaden my narrow world. Do we ever know the far reaching implications of a merciful, hard working life? I wish she could see her "cross" as it remains in my memory all these years later, and know that her faithfulness reaches so much farther than she could have imagined.

Our Two Shepherds

Hark! Nice puffs 'Tatie!

Hot, hot...oh we got it!

I am enjoying a quick moment of quiet , the calm before the storm if you will. Today is dance recital day...the annual Christmas show that was postponed from Sunday. It looks as though the weather will cooperate, so we will be dancing. Well, not me technically, though I seem to have plenty to do anyhow. Back when my big girl danced, I never had to give it a thought. Sure, I altered her costumes ahead of time, but she always got herself together. She did her makeup, made sure she was sufficiently glittery, gathered all her bits and pieces. I had to get her there early as she had usually promised to braid a few girls' hair, and I was usually pressed into service doing the same while I waited with her.

But then there are boys. I have to collect everything they need and make sure it gets there. They manage the snacks and amusements. When we arrive, I have to hunt down the schedule, and hustle them into the appropriate costumes, do hair, and apply (as we call it) "man makeup". Then the other boys begin arriving, and they line up for help too.

But we love it. No one who didn't would spend this kind of money, time, or aggravation on a thing. Isn't that the truth though? Where do we spend our time, money, and efforts? It's pretty easy to see where the priorities lie by taking a quick look at the check book and calendar. And fortunately/unfortunately we will be doing this show twice. Somehow, by rescheduling the original show, it became necessary to do it twice to accommodate everyone involved. So we will go round again, the week after Christmas. But boy, we got it! Hot! Hot!

Titus Helps

Titus always helps. He remembers to put his paws squarely on the computer screen while jumping down. He lets his tail dangle and flick in front of the screen while you work. He scratches you and looks "put out" when you try and move it. He shakes his drool all over the screen. He is my best computer helper ever.