Anna 2.0 (or maybe 2.1)

Call it midlife crisis. Call it adopting three Liberian kids. Call it being a mom of five. Call it self-discovery.

I broke. Ladies and Gents, I broke. The recurring feeling was that of a shattered windshield held together simply by whatever thin sheet runs obscurely through the middle. A complete shattering. A thousand rough-edged pieces held together by who knows what.

But here is the interesting thing, I broke BEFORE the adoption.

Three years ago as this Liberian adoption journey was in its inception, we also decided to once again move across the country. Our youngest was nearly one and I was finally sleeping through the night and had newly regained control of my hormones. I was happy in my life and friends and family. But this is when I broke. This didn't seem like much. A move across the country to a place I'd lived before and loved. An adoption that wasn't even fully fleshed out. Two medium rocks thrown at my windshield and I shattered.

And then the kids did come and it was like that broken glass was ground down into dust.

Three years I've been living in this broken and ground state. Little by little the wind blowing away at the glass dust. I was blowing away into nothingness...a whisper on the wind not to be found or seen.

This blog, though, isn't about the shattering because there is no words for that. You know it. You already feel those shattered parts of your own life.

This blog is about rising as a phoenix out of the ashes. It is about the broken pottery ground down to be reused by the potter.

I want to say that I have finally gotten to a point of healing in my life. I'd like to say that the hard parts are over and I'm returning to my old self. I want to go back to the old Anna. I want desperately to put those windshield pieces back together in this amazing puzzle. I can do that with enough time, right?

I've been trying to put those pieces in their spots...move back to Albuquerque? get in shape? go back to teaching? get rid of these kids? make my house neat? read more Bible? travel to new sites? buy new clothes? counseling? marriage conferences? pretend harder?

Finally after three years, I feel ready to re-emerge. Almost to be born again.  I did some self-discovery using some personality type testing and exploring and I felt like I was getting an understanding of how those pieces might fit together again. It was showing me parts of me I'd forgotten or didn't previously understand. My heart swelled ready and armed with these new discoveries. Ready to be Anna again. Not mom. Not wife. Not homemaker. Not churchgoer. Not ___________ but Anna. I felt invigorated and excited.

I was expressing to some friends how excited I am about this re-emerging of Anna when when friend sagely but simply stated, "But it will be more like an Anna 2.0 won't it."

I felt derailed. No! I don't want a 2.0; I want ME back!

But the thought wouldn't leave me alone. 2.0.....2.0......2.0.....

It took me a full month to even be open to the idea. Once I creaked that possibility the tiniest bit open in my mind, in rushed the truths God has been crushing me for. That's right. He has been crushing me for these truths.

Ezekial 26:36 "I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you." He is giving me a new one. I had the words wrong. I wanted to be "redone," "re-emerged," "rediscovered," "refurbished," "reborn," but God was saying he wants to get rid of the old and make me new. 

We all know that no amount of work, no matter how skilled or patient I am with puzzles, will fix that broken windshield. But the phoenix rises from the ashes. He must die and be dust before he can rise again. An old pot must be ground to perfect grit to be used in making a new pot. 

Glass is also the perfect recyclable. Glass can be ground down and melted again and again and again into a new shape. Unlike most recyclables, glass does not degenerate or lose integrity when it is crushed and shaped again. There is a part of me that is a "re" word-I am the same elemental make-up after all- but my dust is being made into something new. Parts of me have blown away. I can never be Anna 1.0 again because some of this dross has blown away.

1 Corinthians 13:12 For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.

I see Anna 2.0 only dimly. Maybe three years ago I could have been made new but I didn't want to see at all, not even dimly. I wanted to be something that was and not something that can be or will be. I clung, and still do at times, to the desperate familiarity and comfort of Anna 1.0. 

The image and feeling I had of being a shattered windshield held together by an invisible plastic sheeting was viscerally painful. But God arose in me the desire for new life to refuse to continue to be blown away. And 2.0 has some serious flaws but the glass will be melted, the edges smoothed.  I can trust God with the process because I have been fully known. He knows who I was and he knows who I will be.

Instant Parents: the review you asked for...

I've had several people say to me, "You have to see the movie Instant Parents." They say it with this enthusiasm that suggests I am going to be enlightened or keel over laughing or that somehow they gained a privileged view into my day. We did see it and probably with more enthusiasm and interest than many of you.

Some aspects of those statements are true. I did laugh. A lot.
I loved this movie and it was much needed.
But, I also hated this movie and it pissed me off.

First, I feel that even though you know this because most of you know me, there are some serious differences between my experience and that depicted in the show (based as I understand it on a true family).  Our older kids are adopted out of an orphanage and not a foster system which are both equally horrible places for children in some cases but present very different issues. Our older children are also from a foreign country which adds the cultural clash that is so difficult to maneuver. Finally, we already had two younger children in the home whose presences creates safety concerns and a horrible division of us (our original family) vs. you (the newer children).

Second, it is in me as the sinful person that I am to vent and tell you all the "awful" things these kids put me through so that you might pity me or rescue me or understand me or not judge me or create some you-are-amazing-and-these-kids-are-miserable-so-just-get-rid-of-them-and-go-back-to-your-easier-life scenario. In the end though, there is a stop in me that won't let me air their dirty laundry so instead I'll air mine.

Down to a review.

I loved this movie. I laughed at the truth of it. I've said some many of those words and done so many of those things. It was accurate. Too accurate. I felt sick in my heart to see myself up there on the screen saying, "Oh, did that hurt? Too bad" or "I guess our life will just basically suck from now on." I was mad that people laughed at how painful it was to watch these parents struggle. It's so funny to watch her wrestle a Barbie out of her hands in a store until I see myself wrestling my adopted child to the ground neither in control of myself or this child. I felt like the audience was laughing at me and I didn't feel very humorous when I shut the door on my injured child to cry it out for the next 45 minutes while I ate a tub of icing.

But, I did love this movie!
I loved the way it reminded me that these kids are hurt. Desperately in need of hope and stability. The movie did a fantastic job of showing the dejectedness of the kids' positions. The repercussions of a blighted childhood. I can't fathom what was taken from adoptive/foster kids of this age range. What devastations have happened in their homes to take them away and yet the absolute love and devotion they have for their mothers or fathers that harmed them. I've seen it as a teacher: kids living in their cars while their parents lock them out of the house for weeks, girls showering their mothers after they come home drunk and high, kids with no food but X-Box's. My foreign adoption experience has been different. There is seemingly no connection to anyone. No one has ever bonded with them and we are just another caregiver in the cache of caregivers and housemothers that they use for survival.
There were only two areas of the movie I felt were inaccurate. The first one connected to this idea of "mommy" and "daddy" and how excited they were to hear it. For my older adopted kids it is a title not a connection. I'm mom but so is their birth-mom and so are the housemothers and so are their orphanage sponsors and so are the adoptive parents who didn't follow through. Most of the foster parents that I have encountered have a similar experience with children that call whoever mom or dad. No reason to get excited about them calling you something that means nothing to them.

I love that this movie ends in hope. I love that it ends in hurt people coming together to do the work necessary to heal as best as they can and become a family. However, the second area of the movie that just pissed me off was the ending. In college, I had a professor who commented that no story is a person's life. That statement resonated with me because I understood that whatever story I am looking at is just a segment of their struggles and victories. It is a snapshot of an unusual event or life-altering occasion. And I get that with this movie. They had to wrap this movie up with a happy ending full of hope and a future with smiles and joy. But, my story hasn't ended yet and it certainly didn't end in pretty dresses and remarkable love at the end of one year. Listen, it's not that my story won't end in pretty dresses and remarkable love, its that there is so much more to go. We have so much more pain to overcome and some much more left to hope for. It goads me to think that for some people it could be so easy. But it infuriates me to feel like people are given this false sense of success and beauty in such a short period. It gives false expectations and makes me feel like failure.

Like they did, I did get a new house out of this deal but it isn't all neat and shiny with lovely windows that represent beauty and hope. It is probably a house like yours full of painful objects to step on in the middle of the night, ripped screen doors, and dirty underwear which you have no idea how it arrived where it is at. Maybe too, your home like ours contains fighting siblings and yelling parents. Mixed in, though, are starting to be sounds of growth and connection. (By the way, if any of you have any walls or cabinets to knock down, I can only imagine how wonderfully therapeutic that could be for me. I'll bring the sledgehammer.)

I love the community connection. I wish, wish, wish, I had the support group sessions that was portrayed in Instant Family. I've met those couples. I've talked with the parents of those kids. The stereotypes are hilarious! Funny enough to warrant that exclamation mark. By far this was my favorite part of the movie- everyone so different and yet the same. Kids and parents alike with hopes and dreams and struggles and joys and fears and a solidarity that comes with understanding or compassion or whatever it is that bonds people together who are in similar struggles. The community has been my lifeline. And to the credit of our local community, we, unlike many we have met, have couples who still dare to invite us to their homes or events. But for many of our comrades-in-arms so to speak, they are shunned, left out, or condemned for their parenting decisions or family sizes or trauma that their families bring with them and set at the table. After all, the noise level we bring alone is truly deafening and often remarked upon at restaurants, doctor's offices, schools, homes, church foyers, playgrounds, birthday parties.... I need you, though! My kids need you. I'll bring earplugs, but don't push us away...take a chance on us.

I loved this movie. Go see it. Even better, go laugh at it.
I hated this movie because it is my unresolved pain out there for you to laugh at.

I'd much rather you laugh and begin to understand than turn away.

Adoption at a Year

One year ago, I was in Africa with the adoption papers newly signed and piles of paperwork to complete before we came home. It would still be three weeks until we were back on American soil beginning the hard work of becoming a healthy family.

This last year has been the hardest year of my life. Adoption is hard. It is a beautiful, ugly, soul-ripping, healing, confusing, enlightening, angering, life-giving time. There is not one feeling whose counterpart I haven't felt in the subsequent 24 hours.

We almost didn't make it. Truth.
There are times still when we don't want to make it. Truth.
I've never been a worse person. Truth.

Between this blog and the last one, I've written a variety of blogs that can't express our journey or shouldn't be shared because they are the product of a damaged person. But, I'm finding my way home to a healthy heart (notice the -ing on finding indicating progress not completion).

For the first few months I hung to the word hope. I felt it was my anchor through the chaos. Life was chaos just think seven virtual strangers living in a home together then add three traumatized kids, parents learning to balance five kids, and two toddlers whose whole world just became a tossed salad when they don't even like veggies. I mean how do you even do laundry for seven people?! But I held on to the fact that there was hope.

Around month seven, I lost my grip on hope and I sunk deep into the waters. I was helped to the surface by friends who endured tearful, complaining phone calls; friends who took our children; my husband whose arm is sore from holding me up; a college student with three horses; a trip away to visit family; and the body of Christ in the form of multiple women's groups who made meals, prayed, and hugged me when they didn't even know why.

At month 10, (October, people, that wasn't that long ago...) we decided to get a kitten and a puppy at the same time. It was too much. The kids were absolutely crazy and the animals were crazy. I broke in half. Split down the middle. I cried from the moment the kids went to school until the moment they came home. I didn't have the energy to get out of the shower. I slept on the floor in a heap. I hid it, of course. Something had to go and it wasn't going to be the new animals...

And there, at month 10, when nothing was left, I got a new word: Immanuel.
God with us.

It's a word for where I was.
It's a word for where I am.
It's a word for where I am headed.

I can't use words to explain my Immanuel. I can't use them because I can't even fully understand it myself. I just know I am not alone. He is present and active and has been the whole time. And you know what else, Immanuel doesn't mean God with ME it means God with US.

My whole family.
He is with Shiloh when she wants to be held and can't be.
He is with Addison when she needs security in a scary world.
He is with Kumba as she finds herself different from her classmates.
He is with Kai as his knowledge is growing faster than his ability to understand.
He is with Gifty when she navigates learning about emotions that she has never been allowed to use.
He is with Jason as he maintains leadership and stability.
He is with me when five kids all want my attention at the same time and I'm making dinner and the puppy is peeing on the floor and the laundry just buzzed and the phone is ringing...all at the same time.
He is with them when I am not.

He is here. He is with me. He brings peace in the chaos.  He even sends someone to bring cinnamon rolls on the same day you thought you were going to get to make some and couldn't.

He knows. He is Immanuel.

Part 2 of this blog.

One year(ish) update.

Gifty has grown the most. Probably because of her age, she has seemingly suffered the most trauma. And, who can tell what is being 12 and what is being traumatized. She is learning about emotions and how to handle them appropriately. She is also learning so much in school. Because her schooling was so inconsistent, she is probably three years behind in learning knowledge. But, she is a hard worker and wants to do well and so she is doing well. She has also grown tremendously in her physical stature growing nearly 5 inches since coming to America...I blame it on the increase in proteins and veggies. She has also started playing the trombone in school.

Kai's sweet nature just continues to blossom. He has also grown like a weed with also close to 5 inches and 3 shoe sizes. He loves to be outside mostly riding his bike and playing with the puppy. His curiosity never ends and he is learning how to phrase the questions to get across what he really wants to know. We are going to have to tell him the truth about Santa soon because his questions are just too smart. 

Kumba is a typical kid through and through. She is silly, scatter brained, playful and intimate. I haven't had a chance to check her height but I do know her pants are way too short! Kumba wants to be quiet and intimate. She prefers to play alone with Addison or to have me read her a book while she snuggles. Don't get me wrong, she is full of energy and causes plenty of kid-like mayhem, but if the other kids are busy she doesn't miss a moment to have that one-on-one that she must have craved in the orphanage. 

Addison is a ray of sunshine and still just as girly as they come. Kindergarten is a snap for her and we have already had to find ways to challenge her quick thinking mind. She is starting to create her own "plays" and creates costumes to fit whatever character persona she wants to try on. She has really blossomed in her compassion towards others and her ability to communicate needs and kindness. She has shown curiosity about Jesus and heaven but her long-term plan for now is to turn six and then stay that way forever while she lives with us. A good plan, I think.

Shiloh has the biggest heart and a gentle manner-most of the time because she is three after all. She absolutely loves preschool where she gets to be social and active. Just in the last couple of months she has developed her creative play and imagination muscles and they are going strong. She is either dressed up as a ballerina or wearing her halloween cat costume.

Hope

It is difficult when writing a blog on adoption and family to remember that these kids need their privacy too. At least for a while as we work out some difficult behaviors and learn to be a family. And, so, the things that I some times feel like I should be writing about need to stay quiet and intimate just within our walls for now. However, today I was asked the question what does gift of adoption mean to you. And the answers came surprisingly quickly.

The gift of adoption really means the gift of hope. And hope gives us a reason to live. There are moments when this just seems too hard...this adoption, this parenting, this culture change, this trauma. But, then we take a deep breath or 20 and remember that we have hope that one day these children will be successful. There is hope that they will be healthy. There is hope that they will give back to others. There is hope that they can find comfort in their sorrows. There is hope that our family can bring healing to one another.

Just a couple of days ago we were picking up Addison, our five year old, from preschool. While I was inside signing her out, Gifty and Kai were devising a song. When we got back in the car, they counted to three and began singing a love song to her. The lyrics were a simple, "A-ddi, we love you," but the there was clapping, seat dancing, and rhythm and volume changes. Shiloh loved the song and laughed the biggest belly laugh that two year olds can laugh. Every time they stopped for a breath, Shiloh would count one-two-three and they would start over. Then they started signing it for every member of the family in turn..."Shi-loh, we love you...Mom-my, we love you...Dad-dy, we love you...Kum-ba, we love you." I can still hear the rhythmic chant in my mind or as they say in their heart. They sang for probably 20 minutes with everyone full of love, joy, acceptance, and freedom. In this moment, I breathed in fresh healthy air and exhaled all the toxins knowing that this adoption will be a power for hope in all of our lives.

Here are other glimmers of hope:
Kai brought home a paper about mom being his hero because I help him when he is hurt.
Gifty loves to stay in the bath until her toes get wrinkly because she has never seen that before.
Kumba kisses me on the shoulder when she doesn't think I'm watching.
Addison wraps her legs over Gifty's when we are watching a show.
Shiloh gets pushed around in her tricycle by Kai.
Kumba changes Shiloh's soiled pants while she is potty training.
Gifty gives up her apple to Addi because it is the last one.
Kai does a chore for Gifty so that she can relax.
Gifty brushes and puts Addison's hair in a bun each morning before school.
Kumba "reads" Shiloh books.
Kai and Gifty are constantly laughing at Dad's dinner time jokes.
They love broccoli, peas, and carrots...never having a vegetable before in their life!

When all things feel lost, I remember that God gives us hope and hope heals.

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

First Time for Everything

We have been home for one week and this first week has been full of first time experiences.

In their orphanage they were literally within the four walls of the orphanage all the time. Until three or four years ago they were even tutored inside the walls. But as soon as ebola was cleared out they decided that sending them to school would broaden their experiences. The only outside the walls time they have had is time at school and time at church, so they didn't even have experiences in their own culture.

Firsts in Liberia:

First flush toilets...and why are there so many different types of flush toilet? Every new toilet was a learning experience. The automatic flush toilets in the U.S. Embassy almost caused a streaking incidence because they were so surprised and scared.

Working indoor plumbing. They didn't know how to turn on the faucets because the faucets in their orphanage hadn't worked since before the war and had been removed.

Showers. "Mom, it's raining inside!" They loved the shower because they bathe with a bucket pumped from their outside cistern and a wash cloth at the orphanage. Kumba giggled through the whole thing and refused to get out. Gifty, is my scaredy cat and she refused to put her face under the water and took a 30 second shower the first time. Now, of course, I can't get any of them out.

Their own market place. Not using street markets myself, it was a bit overwhelming, but for the kids who had never been in such a crowded area or seen so many items for sale it was a bit too much.

Grocery stores. They have grocery stores in Liberia but they are relatively new and mostly for foreigners and the wealthy. Just like my other daughters, they asked for everything on the shelves whether they knew what it was or not.

This was the girls' first time in a hair salon (Gifty getting her hair washed in a salon). We went in Liberia for the girls to have their washed and styled because I certainly can't do it yet.

Firsts in Travel:

Airplane ride, of course! They did such a great job with this. The weren't afraid of the plane at all and enjoyed the in-flight entertainment. Kumba called the flight-attendant several times. Again it was the toilet that was daunting...it is so loud and sudden that it frightened them. They were so afraid that they began hiding while I went in to flush it.

Airport. The airport in Amsterdam is like a giant mall and we were in a hurry. All decorated for Christmas and with shiny toys and things for sale they have never imagined, I literally had to drag Kumba through the airport. She was so overwhelmed by all there was to see that her legs just stopped moving.

Straight out of a scene in Elf, the escalators were an airport challenge. Kumba was immediately up for the challenge and loved it. Kai was nervous but made it happen. A flight attendant had to help with Gifty who refused to get on. From that point on we had to take the elevator (which was also a first but they found it amazing that the doors closed to one room and opened to another). Kumba kept begging to go on the moving sidewalks but Gifty flat out would not.

Traffic lights have a running status report. From the backseat we hear the constant, "Green light means go. Yellow means slow. Red light, MOM! Red light, MOM!" Even if it is two blocks away.

Firsts in Oregon (America as they call it):

First puzzles. This was an interesting educational experience. The kids had no idea about problem solving and pattern recognition skills. 

 Playdough! They loved play dough and spent a long time playing with it. They had seen advertisements for it on TV in Liberia but never touched it. We will do this again soon.

 Their first time in a restaurant went much smoother than I anticipated. We went to a local pizza place with an informal setting. They liked the elevated seating but not the pizza. This was also their first experience with cheese and with pizza. Kumba eats anything and ate it right up. Kai will eat anything if you add red pepper flakes to it but Gifty is a picky eater and went hungry for the night.

 This one was a bit of a surprise but it was their first use of scissors! Kai is a lefty and there were no left handed scissors at our craft event so it was a little rough for him. They attempted to make snowflakes but really we just had fun chopping things into bits.

 The much anticipated snow. Here are our first snow angels. They love the snow and have adjusted to the cold remarkably well. One day it was 40 degrees and I had to fight them to keep their coats on. We also had a first snowball fight, first teeny-tiny snowmen, and first snow eating.

 The wagon ride wasn't that big of a hit. This was their first time staying out in the cold for an extended length of time. The seats were cold and so were our bums.

 Craft time was fun and they acted like old pros. The glue stick posed a bit of a surprise for Gifty who thought it was chapstick and liberally applied it.

 Hot cocoa after the snow was a favorite.

 Bike riding was the first thing that they asked for. This is Kumba in the picture who thought it was just okay but Kai was an instant success. He literally could balance, peddle and turn his very first time out.

Four girls in a row with newly painted pink toenails.

Addi's first school performance. This was also our first time out of the house as a family of 7.

The were surprised that we could check out books at the library and take them home with us. We also let them use the computer with a mouse for the first time. They typed all their friends' names from the orphanage and pushed all kinds of random buttons. The mouse was definitely a challenge.

We had to take them to buy snow boots and it will be a long time before I take them all to the store again. They ran wild and took the little girls with them. Luckily there weren't many people in the store.

We saw Santa Claus at an event we attended and they were interested and surprised. They asked many, many questions about him. They are now firm believers and have already sworn they are not going to sleep on Christmas Eve. Gifty asked Santa for a gift. Kai asked for candy. Kumba was too afraid to ask. Addison wants a life-sized princess castle and a $400 princess carriage that she is not going to get. Shiloh wanted nothing to do with him whatsoever.

The bounce house was probably the biggest hit yet. Yesterday it was only 19 degrees at 10:30 am and we needed to get these kids out of the house. So, we braved the bounce house. Kai worked up a sweat and Gifty hasn't laughed so much. Kumba was the quietest of all and spent most of her time throwing balls with Addison. Shiloh was the bravest and we spent most of the time chasing her.

The bath tub is a new playground. If they get bored in the evening, I just run some water and they play in the bath until it is cold then they are clean too.

While a playground is not new, they had one at the orphanage, the twisty slide and the tire swing were. They thought the twisty slide was the best thing since sliced bread and kept trying to explain it to me. Then the saw the tire swing....it was the new sliced bread...Kumba went on it until she got sick to her stomach.

Coming up Next: We are waiting to try the movies and the ice cream parlor and I'm feeling a little anxious about Costco and iPads.

The kids in general are doing great. All the kids are getting along surprisingly well with a few basic sibling rivalries and territorial squabbles. They are used to having little kids around and are kind and helpful with the little girls. The older kids aren't used to being inside and we find that we have to keep them busy or they get hyper and loud. While it took me a long time to adjust to the time difference, the kids were so tired from the travel and new experiences they have slid right into our time.

Kai is getting lessons in wood working. Kumba has fallen in love with milk (only given to babies in Liberia). Gifty eats ice from the ice-maker like crazy (also a rarity because they don't have electricity to keep it frozen).

Liberia loves America

Liberia is a country born of America but I bet until we started this journey you didn't know even where it was. Some of you still don't. Even though you have read the blogs, you never looked. It is a history we should know because we created it and they feel we are still their bigger brother in a sense. I started this journey nearly two years ago it wasn't until we were actually ready to travel that I bothered to learn about where I was going and who I was adopting. I heard on the news a few years ago that Ebola was ravaging an African nation. I felt sad, but I never looked to see even where that was. We talked about it in the US only because we worried that it would travel there. But they are distant, and poor, and there is nothing I can do... Turns out God disagreed. I tell you, though, never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I would be here myself.

Here it is a country about the size of Ohio in land mass with a population of 4.6 million. The next door neighbors are Sierra Leone and The Ivory Coast. You've heard of them. The coast is beautiful and the palm trees lovely.

A small history so that we all know. (This is the Anna Taylor boiled down version and I hope I get all the facts right.)

Liberia is called such because it means Liberty-an American Heritage. The capital city Monrovia is name after the American president  Monroe. Their flag is our flag with only one star. Their constitution is our constitution with the words Liberia substituted. The currency US in addition to their own. Their current laws-taken directly from US law. Why all this?

In the late 1810's the US had a growing number of freed slaves. Many Americans felt that integration of the two races was impossible and they were concerned about how to manage the growing numbers without discord. So, a group was put together to find a solution and that solution was to allow those who wanted to "return" to Africa (even though many of these were the US born children of slaves and their owners.) They decided to aim to "return" them to Sierra Leone, purchase some land, and allow the blacks to run their own state. The society sent 88 blacks and three white members of the society to establish a location. After meeting resistance from the local chiefs and the death of almost all of the original members from malaria, a new white leader was sent to coerce (by way of gun to the head) to force a chief to sell them the land. Not surprisingly they sold them Liberia. The tribes in the area rejected the "settlers" which they called Congo people not because they were from the Congo but because they landed at the Congo river aperture. To this day they are still called Congo and they are often identified by their lighter skin (mixed with white from America obviously.) The local tribes fought back but the settlers had brought guns and cannons and were able to fortify their city.  Other ships from America with American blacks arrived and the Congo people were able to establish and rule their own state. Around 20,000 came from the US but this was much smaller than the hoped for mass exodus they had anticipated. In order to protect itself from the British and the French who had providences nearby, the US allowed the state to be declared sovereign in the 1840s. They provided minimal support and expected the country to establish its own financial structure.

Until the 1980 the Congo people retained control over the government. In 1980, a military nobody named Samuel Doe from one of the tribes miraculously pulled off a coup and seized control of the government. It seems that Doe had no actual plan or experience and simply all the cards fell into his lap and he liked it. He was not a good leader and the country's financial stability immediately declined. He maintained control by cruelty and fear. So while the native Liberian people finally had control of their own country, it was not a beneficial move. Several years after seizing control, he decided to hold a public election to show he was working towards a democratic nation. He, of course, lost the election and rigged the results. But now his paranoia was more severe and he became worse. His rule was marked by rapes, violent murders, and misuse of government moneys and foreign aid (mostly American).

Several attempts at overthrowing his government failed. In 1989, Charles Taylor, a trained guerrilla, successfully entered Liberia to overthrow the government but succeeded mostly in causing civil war and extreme violence. He trained the infamous child soldiers that he kidnapped from foreign and Liberian families, heavily drugged them, forced them to rape and kill their own family members. In 1990, he killed Samuel Doe and took control of the country. But because the country is formed mostly by ethnic tribes, the country's civil war escalated as they all tried to gain or maintain control over the resources of rubber and diamonds mostly. Charles Taylor succeeded in ending the Civil War in 1997 when he won an election with the slogan, "He killed my ma. He killed my pa. I will vote for him." The idea behind the slogan was that he was the most powerful person in the country and he will kill you otherwise...Additionally, his strength in warfare made him the most capable of keeping the country from continuing the civil war.  But, in 1999 the civil war resumed. In 2003, Charles Taylor was finally put under extreme pressure to resign and fled to Nigeria as a political refuge. He was charged internationally with aiding civil war in Sierra Leon, illegally running arms, and selling blood diamonds. He was never charged with the crimes against humanity in his own country.

It is estimated that between 400,000 and 620,000 people, mostly civilians were killed during this time. The number of rapes, specifically gang rapes, is obviously not recorded but the women repeatedly report that it was common practice among the soldiers both child an not. The saying was women are for raping not killing, so much of that death toll above is men.

The Liberian people feel that their big brother America should have been helping them during this time, but America largely ignored it and even sent arms during some portions. It wasn't until Charles Taylor that they pulled out their arms donations and sent paltry air drops of rice that may have been intended for civilians but was taken by armed soldiers. The only consistent American presence was the presence of Firestone rubber plants who were not involved in aiding anyone. There has been some speculation as to how Firestone has been able to run consistent business in the country but I don't know much about it.

Furthermore, Liberia as well as other West African countries was struck by the ebola virus in 2014. It killed approx 4,500 people and infected around 10,000 in Liberia alone. Sierra Leon and Guinea suffered another approx 5,000 deaths. It cause wide spread fear and panic. Again, Liberia asked where is their best friend America? American did send aid but the Liberians felt it was too late. There was one great benefit of ebola...before the ebola virus there were reported only 50 trained doctors for the entire country of 4.6 million. I don't know the number of actual doctors now but there are many more trained healthcare nurses and workers.

My taxi driver says little babies are born looking at the US dollar and dreaming American dreams. It is my goal to make sure that American babies at least know of their Liberian brother.

Left Behind

You had to know it was coming. It is not possible in my heart of hearts to know that there are children in this orphanage who do not have a family and to not advocate or beg, really, that you take a second look at them and to share their stories so that one day they too go home. Many of the children, especially the babies, have families who are waiting to take them home. I thank God that he has provided for them. But the hearts of His people are closed to the older children and children with special needs. I would like you to see four children in particular. See them with your heart and pray for them, support them financially, and share their story so that near or far the right family will hear God's calling to take them in.

A note before you read, adoption research has repeatedly indicated that grown-up adopted children prefer that their adoptive story and history not be aired piublicly without their permission. This is a little bit of a catch-22 when you are trying to create sympathy but I want each of these kids to own their story and not feel violated when they find it on the internet when they are 20. Instead, I mostly will share who this child is that I met. 

Shadrach age 5 1/2

Shadrach groped his way towards me. As soon as he heard my name he would call out, "Aunty Anna. Aunty Anna," until he found my lap. The second time I came, he knew I was there before I spoke. "Aunty Anna, Aunty Anna" as he pushed his way past the other children to be near. When there was space to sit on my lap he would sit on my legs facing me so that he could feel me better and know my breath and movement. He would defend his position but otherwise seemed content to just listen and enjoy. Later a group of men from Nigeria had heard about Shadrach's stunning singing ability and came to visit the orphanage. Without the nervousness or anxiety that I would feel, he quickly found one man out of 10 that he felt comfortable with. He leaned against his leg and listened. He held his hand then refused to leave.  From what I understand he came from another orphanage who did not treat him well. But that doesn't keep Shadrach from opening up his heart to people. Shadrach is a smart cookie but there is not an available school of the blind for him here. With a little time and investment in his education, I think we would be looking at a future leader.

Emmanuel age 8 approx

It is impossible to miss Emmanuel when you enter the orphanage. He is always, I mean, always smiling and his smile is infectious. Emmanuel, God With Us, moves his chair next to me and asks for his picture to be taken. He was quick to pick up on the idea that the younger children could find a space in my lap, he could find a space in my camera lens. His smile moves from his lips to his mouth and it is clear that this boy really does feel joy deep down that transcends his physical limitations.  He wants to be near and engage with you. One Sunday I visited the orphanage to join them for church. For some reason, that Sunday they did not take Emmanuel and the minute he was aware he was being left behind, he cried. Then I cried. He loves deeply and wants to be loved and included in return. He is a kind, pure soul. The cause of his physical condition is unknown; they suspect a stroke in the womb. While he is leaning forward in this picture he has use of his upper body and arms on one side of his body. He cannot speak clearly with his words but he does speak loudly with his gorgeous eyes. I think (unprofessionally) that with a bit of training in sign language he would be able to communicate well. Emmanuel is also not educated as there are no schools for kids with special needs.

Success age 5 approx

I first encountered Success as he was being carried into physical therapy. At first I thought he was Emmanuel because of those amazing bright eyes and because of his wheel chair. But he quickly distinguished himself as I watched him suffer through physical therapy that clearly stretched his pain. He would grimace and then look to make sure that I was still there near by and just as quickly switch to a smile. He can speak well (in Liberian English) and loves to talk. He is sitting in a wheelchair here but he spends just as much time moving around on the floor. He is thought to have mild cerebral palsy but he does have some limited control over his legs and full upper body control. His neck is stiff but just look at the light in his eyes!! These kids with special needs have an incredible level of patience but need engagement with people and stimulation that just cannot be provided when you never get outside of the four walls of an orphanage. He is not be able to attend school because of his physical limitations but I assure you he is smart.  He has no opportunities here and leaving him in an orphanage with no education and no family to help him just ensures that this promising boy will be a beggar. I can't bear it.

Good NEWS! This child has found a family. I've changed the name and removed the picture to protect the privacy of the family and the child's story. But I wanted to keep the idea to help others see who God has given us a chance to love. I've seen George's picture before. The shy 11 year old whose name appeared on the same list of kids that mine did nearly two years ago. He watches me with a mix of hope and grief. My own kids off playing with others in this awkwardly secure feeling knowing that they have been chosen and are leaving, but George finds openings when I have a free hand or am not carrying a baby and he holds my hand leading me from place to place. At church they wanted to sit me in the front row, but I asked to sit with the children. George asked me in disbelief if I wanted to stay with the kids...translation read in his eyes and emotions, "You find me worthwhile enough to sit with me?" If I could have brought home another child, I would have brought home George. He is an only child and I don't know his history at all but when you meet him you don't care. He is seriously the kindest, sweetest, young man I have ever met. It would break my heart to see such an amazing child left behind to age out of an orphanage.

This is a privately run orphanage and it receives no government assistance. Furthermore, the government knows that this orphanage takes good care of their kids with special needs and so places children here but they do not provide aid for them. Everything from the physical therapy to the rice to the security guards to the clothes are provided for by donors largely from America. Recently the main sponsor organization has withdrawn its support to open another orphanage in Liberia. While I commend what it is doing, there is a big gap to fill.

I feel as if this is the most important of all my blogs and yet I also feels that it conveys so little. God loves these children the same as he loves my children.  Please help these children know that they are not left behind!

Give a one time donation.
Sponsor a child for $40 a month
Pray for them.
Spread their news so that someone will take them home.
Visit them!
Go to: Americans for African Adoptions 

There are many others that I haven't mentioned. So if you know an interested family, have them get in touch with the agency and see the beautiful children I didn't mention.

**I KNOW this blog has major tense shifting issues. I am sorry all my writing and English friends.

Africa, I Carry You Back

For everything that seems out of the ordinary or snaps a heart string they say, "This is Africa." It is both an explanation and an excuse.

Every Liberian or Lebanese* that I get a chance to interact with asks me to carry them back to America. They will hide in my bag, but preferably carry their own. They will come be my nanny so they can send money back to their families. They will send their young children to me to go to school for the first time. They lecture my children to behave so that I won't send them back to hell after coming to heaven. (As a side note, after this lecture I reassured my kids that I would never send them back to Liberia for their behavior!) They ask for my Facebook so they can find me in America and introduce them to a good woman they can marry to make them a citizen...they will be good husbands.

And so, this is my way of carrying you back, Liberia.

She sleeps on a bamboo mat under a lean-to with pieces of aluminum patchworked to the top. Nine children huddle against the wall as the rain comes down. Their father has abandoned them again or at least the father of three of them. She knows that this child she carries will not survive in this house were there is no food. She is ill, nearing 40, and has lost her job. She gives birth that night alone on a mat with nine children watching unsure what this new child will mean for them. Who will have to make room for it? Who will give up their rice for it? Who will take care of it? In the morning, new baby boy in hand she takes him to an orphanage and begs for them to take him in. With praise on her lips, she is relieved and hopeful for him when they take him in. The orphanage comes to her lean-to to establish that she really cannot care for him and they are sickened by what they see. The director buys her a new mat and brings the family rice. She leaves the mother with money to buy meat for the night. Neighbors start shouting, "Why are you selling your baby? You are evil! How can you sell your child?" They shun her. They harass her. But her child lives with food and an education. This is Africa.

He is here from South African working with the fishing industry to stop human trafficking and the stealing of oil. The Liberian Coast Guard is only allowed to patrol 25 miles from the coast but the large fishing boats can go many miles with their permits and so they go out 30 miles off the coast. These are the former child soldiers displaced after their role in the vicious coups and civil war with no skills but death and left with drug addictions they were forced to take in order to be the dramatic killers the coup leaders needed for their child army. They arm themselves with semi-automatics and they raid oil boats for oil and people or other fishing boats. Chose death by gun, drowning at sea or be pressed into slavery for sex, for fishing, for sale. This is Africa.

She was taken in by a neighbor couple. Her biological family history not revealed from shame or mystery, I don't know. She was the 20th child and the last. The neighbors loved her as their own, fed her, and sent her to school (not free in Liberia so many don't go). She grew to be a woman of hope. A woman who understood the value of being cared for and who understood the costs of being without a family. She got a job working with the displaced children during the civil war. They stopped paying her but she loved the children and continued to work for seven years with the children for no pay. Risking her life in streets of machine guns and ebola to walk to the kids an hour each way. And then one day her boss "ran away" to become a refugee in another country and God blessed her with the paid position he left behind. Today she lives a nice life with a stable salary, a good education, a reputable position in the community and the joy of Jesus in her heart. She has travelled abroad many times and loves her country and her children. This too is Africa.

We drove through a crowded marketplace and she saw a man she knew. She waved to him and asked what he was doing but did not want to stop. As we drove away she told me her story with dry eyes as if stating facts.  Many days she begged for food. And then she met a man who always kept rice in his room. On days when she could not find food, she would go to his apartment and he would feed her. Then the bombing of her neighborhood began and she was displaced and scared. She went to his house for food that night and he told her it was time she stayed to sleep with him. She began to cry and he berated her for being too childish. "I may not be a child but I have never been asked to sleep with a man before." Thereafter she slept with him for food and a room. One day they were in the market when the soldiers shot a woman in the face. She watched as the bullet entered her eye and somehow exited her mouth leaving the woman alive. All the people were distracted by this woman and she saw her chance to run away. She ran away as far as she could. Were she went and how she managed to survive the war she never said. But she was adamant that she never crossed into that part of the city again until the war was over. This was the first she had seen the man who she slept with to save her life. Now, though, she is a successful business woman who manages a front office. This is Africa.

He went to church every Sunday. Two hours of hot and sweaty praise. Pressed tightly against one another with his children quietly in his lap or dancing by his side. Dripping in sweat and shouting words of praise to the mighty God. Worried, every second, that the ebola virus was among them and spreading through the sweat and touch. But there nonetheless because this God is worth the risk. This is Africa.

I carry you back, Liberia. Your stories of fear and survival a testament to your hope and strength.


*The Lebanese have been in Liberia and Sierra Leone for a long time. They came here as refugees starting in the 1930's and 40's. I'm not sure how they did it, but they bought up a lot of beach type resorts, expensive hotels, supermarkets, etc... and they have continued to increase as the wars in Lebanon and surrounding area increase. They establish themselves, buy up more property and send for their families to come work them. Most Lebanese are wealthy but not all. But, this is still a poverty country and they would rather be in the US.

Meet the new Taylors!

One year and nine months in the making, I introduce you to...

Gifty: 11 years old and in the 4th grade. She loves to dance and has taken a liking to the song "True Colors." If she isn't smiling it is because she has some intense idea that she is about to wrestle to the ground or challenge she is about to overcome. Gifty is helpful without complaint and wonderfully outgoing. She likes pink and purple. If you sit still too long she will braid your hair. (I had a hard time getting just a picture of Gifty. She is always surrounded by other kids.) I'll try for a better one.

Kai: 8 years old (almost nine in January) and in the 2nd grade. He has insatiable curiosity and is active. If there is a door he must open it or a hole he must look in it. He loves soccer and basketball and his favorite colors are blue and red. He makes the third left-handed Taylor! He asked me for a remote control car so don't tell him that one was already hidden in the closet at home for Christmas.

Kumba: 7 years old and in the 1st grade. She also likes pink and purple. She plays well by herself but is easily distracted by other things. She is the most shy of all of them but when she feels comfortable she is goofy and fun-loving. As the baby of the family, she is used to being pampered. Kumba loves to eat and an eat more than me and definitely eats more than Gifty.

More about them

As I mentioned in an earlier blog, their orphanage has no running water so when I brought the to the guest house they were amazed by the showers, sinks, and toilets! They had never seen a shower, didn't know how to flush the toilet, and didn't know how to turn on the faucets in the sink. Kumba loved the shower and giggled through the whole thing. They each took two a day and I had to force them out. They washed all their underthings with the soap and hung them up in the shower because that is what they thought they were supposed to do.

Their diet consists mostly of eggs, rice, chicken, or fish at the orphanage. Everything is spicy. But they specifically were excited because they love sausages (hot dogs) and wanted them for every meal...which I did not give them. They don't use buns but Kai will fit right in with Shiloh because he licked all the ketchup off his plate and then asked for seconds on ketchup only. After being introduced to ketchup they wanted it on everything including hardboiled eggs in the morning. They are also big fans of peanut butter but think jelly is too sweet. They have never had butter or cheese on a sandwich but ask for just mayo on bread. I introduced them to spaghetti (meatless). Gifty ate it to be polite but Kumba and Kai both thought it was great. Liberians as a country refuse vegetables and the only sell it in supermarkets to foreign visitors. Apparently they are expensive. I did try some frozen veggies and I will never do that here again...yuck! They hated raisins. But give them a good biscuit (cookie) and they will eat the whole box before you turn around.

Everything is so new to them and they are not afraid to touch, take or ask about them. Kumba wanted to know what was inside the light covering and Kai asked which bag I brought the lamp in from America. They never shut a single door because they have never had one to shut...and that includes the bathroom. Kumba seemed scared of the stairs but got over it pretty quickly. Kai started carrying the TV remote with him everyplace he went. They had seen more TV than I had anticipated and Kai instantly started flipping channels to find his favorite on. Not surprising, they had never seen a Kindle and insisted that it was a big phone. They DO understand phones and can use them very well. They instantly found the music and the games and started playing them like they had one of their own.

The wanted to see pictures of their room over and over and over again. And at the orphanage that was the picture they wanted to show their friends.  They also wanted to see pictures of Daddy and more Daddy.

We took a day and went to the beach. The kids LOVE the beach and, I think, will be disappointed to feel the cold Pacific. None of the kids know how to swim but that doesn't stop us from chasing the waves.

I also went to church with them. Church is a whole other blog (that I probably won't write) but it was the fact that the kids sat silently and still for two hours while sweat drenched them. Church was loud, small, and full of dancing-but not by the kids which I thought was odd. They looked bored but never talked, fidgeted or complained.

Liberian English doesn't sound like English at all. The educated adults can switch knowingly back and forth between more proper English and Liberian English. Every sentence is said in one big word and no words seems to actually complete themselves. They use a lot of idioms that make no sense to me whatsoever (but then again I doubt they would understand if I asked who cut the cheese). So while the kids speak "english" they don't speak in a way that I understand a lot of. Sometime Gifty can rephrase what the younger kids are saying so that I can understand. For example, we read a book and Kai kept asking, "Readiaback". I got "read" but no idea on the rest. I thought he wanted me to read the back. In a sense I did understand his words which were "read it back" but Gifty translated that to mean "read it again."

They use a lot of terms that we understand but don't apply daily or use differently:
pants/shorts=trousers
all girl's shirts=blouse
flip-flops=slippers
hot dogs=sausages
Vasaline= grease
to take with me = carry on
cookies=biscuits
pack it= fold the laundry

At the orphanage, they are very social and after the first day they spent their time mostly with their friends instead of with me.  The love to swing (Jason you better get that swing set secured) and play group games. They played something like duck-duck-goose only with singing and more hitting and  they played a dance game.  All the kids have once a week chores of washing dishes, sweeping, collecting trash, etc. And apparently they know how to slaughter a chicken but thankfully I haven't seen that yet. At night before bed they have a Bible devotion, watch one TV show, and then off to bed with no talking.

Every joint, I thank you.

I know that not everyone who reads this is a Christian, but it is a part of who we are and why I am here. And all of you, Christian or not, have lent me the strength necessary to make this happen. You all working as one large body of Christ from New Mexico, Kansas and Missouri, to Oregon, even Kentucky or wherever you are have put your prayers together to call out the action of God and his strength.

Verse after verse sent by you has washed over me to make me clean and strong. I cry. I want to quit. I worry. And then you are there behind me letting me know that I am not alone and that neither you nor God have left me stranded. Then, I rejoice. I hope. I trust. Some of you I have never met but we share the same heartbeat of Jesus Jesus Jesus as we wade through our days.

"Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ,16from whom the whole body, joined and held together by every joint with which it is equipped, when each part is working properly, makes the body grow so that it builds itself up in love." 

But the church has not functioned as the church ought to be functioning- as one body in Christ. Somehow, though, at this juncture in our lives, the church has fused itself together as a true body moving and breathing with one goal. We often consider the people we see in church as our church family but God doesn't work that way. We are one, joined together by every joint, working properly. I am very literally holding together because of you.

When I have been too upset to pray, you have prayed in my stead.
When I have stood like a lost child, you have sent me scriptures to give me hope and wisdom.
When I have been too shocked to praise, you have sent up praises on my behalf.
When we didn't have the money for this adoption, you have been generous.
When we needed clothing and furniture, you gave to us.
When I was discouraged, you called or met with me or sent me an email.

I have never, in my 40 years of church, felt God's people come together with such love and compassion. I know it has happened and I know it does happen, but it hadn't happened to me. Sadly, I had never been involved in it happening either...or perhaps I just didn't know. And so, I want to make sure that you know. Every prayer and every breath. Every scripture and every FaceBook encouragement. Every. Single. One. You, the Body of Christ, with him as the head directing your prayers, have held me together. Without you I would fail. God has called you to our side to support me and build me up. Thank you, every joint.

We are not done. Double your prayers and be on your knees as God asks. Jesus is good and his path is being made straight. His steadfast love endures forever.


PS. I say this in first person because I am the one writing. These are my feelings and vulnerability that I don't want to impose on Jason.  But never for a minute think that Jason is less thankful than I.