Personality Shines

When things get tough, the tough get positive.

Here are some beautiful ideas about each kid to help you see what a joy our life is despite the difficulties it can present.

Gifty: She loves to sing. She sings all the time...in the car, in the playroom, on her bike, at school, in the shower, at breakfast. She is sensitive to others in distress and I often see her trying to comfort Shiloh and is often holding Addison when she is crying. Gifty loves to be goofy and has a huge smile. She has made friends easily at school and has charmed her ELL teacher to bits. Gifty has discovered that she can ask to sit on my lap and loves it even though she is 11. She likes to play with hair and be creative. She is always drawing things for Addi and Shiloh. Even though she is far behind in school, she tries the hardest and doesn't give up when things get difficult. Gifty is confident.

Kai: He is infinitely curious and always asking questions. His kindness knows no bounds and he is tenderhearted especially towards Shiloh and Baxter. He shares anything and will often give up something he wants because Shiloh wants it, such as, computer time or time on his bike to instead push her on her tricycle. He has the best smile and he means it when he smiles. He absolutely loves to ride his bicycle. Kai is a bit of a perfectionist and does everything to his very best effort. Every night he wants to pray for the boys in the orphanage. He will try anything and hardly every complains about things that he doesn't like

Kumba: She is the goof of the group and the secretly loud one. She presents as shy and quiet but is boisterous and loud when she is comfortable. She is in the discovery and play stage of her life. Addi and her are often found sneaking in play time when every one else is asleep. Those two are becoming best of friends. This girl has the wiggles all day and sleeps like a rock at night. I just love the way deep, dark brown eyes find a sparkle when I look her in the eye. Kumba lacks any fashion sense but looks darn cute anyway and always wears one pair of knee high, sparkly boots.

Addison: She is full of love and can't wait to tell you. I hear her all day telling one of the girl's how much she loves them. She has always been a snuggly one and now has a bigger pool of snugglers to cozy up next to on the couch, and she frequently finds her way into our bed in the middle of the night. Addi is also in that play stage of her life and doesn't go anywhere without a toy of some sort. She is ever the princess and her fashion is a constant reflection of her flare. Her imagination is soaring and it is best expressed outside in the hot, cold, wet, or snowy. She loves to be on her bike, play in the mud, climb on rocks and go for walks. And, I just love that she still says "lello" instead of yellow.

Shiloh: She is a budding flower. While she was not at all cuddly as a child, she has turned into a first class snuggler. She wants to always be held, rocked, patted, hand held, back rubbed, etc... She still wants to be Baby Grace Doggie and even acts out the part. Shiloh has a huge heart and cries in sad parts of a movie and always asking the kids if they are okay if they are crying. She is uber polite always saying "Clease" and "Thank you" in a superficially high voice.  She copies everything her big sisters do and is heartbroken when she isn't big enough to do something they do. Maybe because Kai babies her, but she has a soft spot for him.

Baxter: My oldest "son" has gone deaf and loves it. He sleeps all day, gets back scratches, and is my ever present shadow. He has suddenly become obedient and easy going.

The Noise

Baxter has gone deaf just in time. At nearly age 13, he has always been a nervous dog and definitely always a momma’s boy. He has never cared for people in general and now his house is full of banging drums, dancing children, and lots of running and yelling. This was some kind of divine gift to our dog to go deaf while I was in Africa and just before his house erupted in chaos. Now he can sleep peacefully while the children thunder around him. 

If only Jason and I had the same gift…kidding, of course. But in all honesty the gentle, quiet spirit that used to be a mark of our house has flipped upside down. Our new kids seem unsettled in the quiet and look for ways to create noise. Much of the noise is fun and beautiful: Gifty is always singing, Kai is always asking questions, Kumba is playing on some noise-maker, Addi is constantly laughing or demanding a sibling to see something, and even Shiloh has joined in with the pounding of her feet running up and down-up and down-up and down the hallways in play.

Truth be told, there is also much strain in this new noise. Even the good noises, the happy, joyful noises can be a strain. A level of stress that we have never met with. Wailing, pouting, crying, and fighting over adjusting to new rules and expectations or exhaustion from the constant learning and activity level or, with five kids, a battle for attention. Very literally, I hear the constant cadence of “mom, mom, mom, mom, mom…” in my restless sleep. Many moments I long for the deaf, gentle peace that Baxter attains amid the chaos.

Can I just say…yes, I think I will…this is HARD.

Adoption is made out to be some sort of glorified family with graceful and strong parents and brave, adaptive children. A perfect picture of God’s design for his family. There are lovely pictures with happy, well-adjusted children with their smiling parents and the bright sun shining on them creating the ideal of joy and hope. (Coming soon to a family near you…and I will say that are stunning pictures and it was joyful.) But, inside the house the kids aren’t the only ones crying and frustrated with all the newness. 

The hardest part for me, a quiet person by nature, is the noise. There is never a time to collect my thoughts before some noise, good or bad, is interrupting my thoughts.

Here is what I love, though. There really is hope. And when their is hope there is love, strength, patience, peace, joy, kindness…sound familiar?

And then there is that word “long-suffering”, or in some versions “patience”, stuck in there. And I wonder how long we need to strive. And he answers, “run as if you aim to win.” But that doesn’t seem like an answer because there is no finish line, no mark I see in the future with a ribbon to be cut and a medal to be won. I already feel out of breath and my legs are already aching and I don’t know how much further I have to go. So, then Jesus looks at me (I love that part because he doesn’t just say this but he looks at me when he says it!), “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.” Then, I sigh, and get out of bed because today holds the promise that this adoption is good even when it is hard.

As I walk down the hallway to the beginnings of little and not-so-little noises coming from the kid’s room, I nudge Baxter from his silent sleep because, truthfully, I think he likes Kai more than me now and I know he wouldn’t want to miss a chance to get scratched. 

I've always thought I was

Dear Lord,

I’ve always thought I was patient, but thank you for teaching me more.

I’ve always thought I was empathetic, but thank you for teaching me how blind I am to suffering.

I’ve always thought I was joyful, but thank you for showing me that my joy was contingent on my ease.

I’ve always thought I was kind, but thank you that now I see my kindness was conditional upon their returned kindness or respect.

I’ve always thought I was loyal, but thank you for showing me how my loyalty has wavered in my stress.

I’ve always thought I was giving, but thank you for showing me that I have never given from my want.

I’ve always thought I was helpful, but thank you for showing me that was only true when it was convenient for me.

I’ve always thought I was self-sufficient, but thank you for showing me that I need the body of Christ.

I’ve always thought I was strong, but thank you for showing me the benefits of weakness.

I’ve always thought I was brave, but thank you for giving me a chance to know it.

I’ve always thought I was insignificant, but thank you for giving me a battle to champion.

I’ve always thought I was unimportant, but thank you for showing me where my importance actually lies.

Love you, Anna