A Reason to be Thankful

 The past few weeks have been particularly difficult for me. This morning, as I was bemoaning my situation to the Lord, He reminded of His grace in my life and how I take it for granted. Humbled, I began thanking God for His blessings.

I thanked Him for giving me the ability to write and then doubly blessing me by giving me an outlet for it. It is icing on the cake that I sometimes get paid to do it. So many people are working at unfulfilling, burdensome jobs, while I am in my own home, sipping coffee, listening to my children play outside, and writing what are essentially fun little puzzles for school children to solve.

Recently, I have been given the opportunity to edit. Besides the obvious income benefit which will provide braces for two of my children, it has been stretching and challenging. Now, I really appreciate what my editor, Gayle, has been doing for years and years. It also renews my love of writing, because I realize I can write my own stories in just a little bit more time than it takes me to edit some of the more difficult stories I have worked on, and have lots more fun! I’m not complaining. It just helps me keep everything in perspective.

Most of all, I am thankful for the gift of the Gayle’s friendship. We’ve worked together for 21 years now. In all those years, we have supported one another, prayed for each other, and have been an encouraging force in the backgrounds of each others lives. I cannot remember a cross word ever coming between us, although I’m sure I have frustrated her by not being the best at meeting deadlines. Add that to the fact that she is one of the rare people who has invited my entire family of ten over for a 4-day retreat and actually seemed happy to have us there! She is one very special person, and I am blessed to be her friend.

So, as the Thanksgiving season approaches, I am determined to be more thankful. Each day, I will remind myself of the wonders of God’s goodness and grace in my life. I am confident I will never run out of things for which to be thankful.

It Shouldn't Have to Hurt to be a Mother

It shouldn't have to hurt to be a mother...but often it does, doesn't it? And sometimes it hurts really, really bad.

This weekend I am attending an on-line mom's conference. It was never billed as a Christian conference, so I wasn't expecting great things. But I have gleaned some very good nuggets of advice.

Here are a couple of them:

It is not my job to fix my children. My job is to love them. 

As a Christian, I would interject that my job is to love them with the love the Lord has given me. Along with that, I need to share with them the same grace, patience, compassion, and gentleness which God has given to me.  Wow -- that is a tall order, and one in which I often fail. Too many times I am demanding, harsh, impatient, and unbending. That behavior comes from wanting to "fix" them. I need to move to a place of love.

When my children feel accepted, understood, and loved, then they can accept my love and direction.

If they don't feel like I love them, then how can they possibly hear me, even though I may be speaking absolute truth into their lives? If they believe they "can never measure up" to my impossible standards, then they will tune me out before I even begin.

I am responsible for the way I react to the circumstances of my life.

When I wonder whatever happened to that wonderful, fun-to-be-around person I once was, I tend to blame the people around me for making me that way. On more than one occasion, I have told them, "I used to be a really fun person. I want to be nice." What a horrible guilt trip to lay on anyone, especially my children. The real reason I have changed is because I have put a wall around my heart. I have allowed my heart to harbor anger and bitterness, and I am the one who has chased away that fun person I used to be. My family deserves to have the creative, fun, loving mom God created me to be.

It is never too late to change.

In my head, I have always known this to be true, but now I am embracing this with my heart. This pain in my life is not "the cross I have to bear." I am no longer going to struggle to just get through the day. I am going to embrace my life with all of its imperfections. The past is the past. It is time to start with the present and live each day in the fullness of God's love and grace.

The only people who truly LIVE are those who LOVE.
Let that one soak in for a while. I believe it has the power to change your life.

Our Adoption Story: The Pioneers, Part 2

Miriam and Leah

When Miriam's birthmother found herself facing another unplanned pregnancy, she contacted the adoption agency and asked them to see if we would welcome this child into our family. Now we knew that these two girls should be together, but for the life of us, we could not see where the money would come from to pay a third set of adoption fees in less than two years. (Have I mentioned that adoption is expensive -- really expensive, and that we had been a one-income family for the past seven years since Rachel was born?) Once again, the Lord blessed us and Leah joined our family. At that time, we had five children, three of whom were under two years old!

Leah and Kathleen

For the next year and a half, life was one wild, crazy blur of babies, diapers, feedings, one very sick child who required out-of-town hospitalization for almost a month, more diapers, and homeschooling our now 5 and 7-year old. To say life was full and rich and busy is an understatement. Without the grace of God and the help of family, friends, and neighbors, we never could have survived. 

5 Little Newmans

When Leah was 18 months old, we contacted the agency, telling them we were ready for another child. Open adoption was now the norm, and we were told our profile would be placed "in the book" for birthparents to peruse. I didn't think anyone would choose us. We were in our mid-thirties and already had five children. Surely other families were more appealing. Looking back, I think God had a good laugh as he examined the thoughts of my heart. Within a few months, the caseworker called and told us to expect a call from a birthmother who had narrowed her choice down to a few profiles, one of which was ours. When Carrie called on that March day, our hearts instantly were knit together in love for the precious child she was carrying and for each other. She and her mother traveled to our home and met our family, and we all just fell in love with each other. A few weeks later, she gave birth to our little teddy bear, Josiah.

Josiah, 1 month

Three weeks before Josiah's birth, I had major surgery, so I was still moving  pretty slowly. When I had my post-op visit, my doctor approved me for travel, so on the morning after Josiah was born, we set out to the Houston area. When we arrived at the hospital, Josiah was just 24 hours old. We went to Carrie's room and she graciously allowed us to hold him and marvel at this precious child. Carrie made sure I was included whenever the nurses gave any instructions and that we were part of decisions that were made. Her parents and sister were so loving to us, even though I know their hearts were breaking at the thought of letting him go.

The following day, we had a placement ceremony in the hospital chapel. All of us committed ourselves to loving Josiah and one another. There were lots and lots of tears all the way around. I cannot begin to describe the gamut of emotions. As Carrie placed Josiah in my arms, I felt elation, sorrow, heartbreak, and an overwhelming sense of responsibility because she was entrusting us with this life. My heart was heavy as I watched Josiah's birth family say their good-byes. I was so thankful we had an open relationship with them and that we all knew this wasn't goodbye forever. 

What a cutie-pie!

When we brought Josiah home, we thought our family was complete. I always wanted six children, and here they were. But, as He often does, God had other plans for us. The story of those plans will be the subject of my next post.

Syd and the 6 little Newmans

\

That's Not FAIR!!!!!!

"Mommmmm, that's not FAIR!"

How many times have I heard that statement? Oh, only about a billion...so far! 

I am always tempted to respond with the stock answer, "Sorry, Honey, but LIFE isn't fair!" 

Like every savvy mother, I know my children don't really care about whether things are fair or not. What they really mean is, "I'm mad because I'm not getting my way." At the root of the "it's not fair" argument is selfishness. "I want what I want when I want it."  I am quick to point out the folly of their reasoning and the source of their misconceptions, but for some reason, there is no change of heart, and the litany of "That's not fair" continues.

After 21 years of motherhood, I am seeing some patterns emerge. One of the most consistent is this: when I see sinful behavior in my children, it usually mirrors the same sin in my life. Even though I am not hollering, "That's not fair" out loud, in my heart, I often whine to God about all the injustices in my life. But when I look to the Bible, I find that there is no place where it is mentioned that I should expect life to be fair, and fairness is never listed as one of the attributes of God.

Deuteronomy 32:4 says:

He is the Rock, His works are perfect, 
and all His ways are just. 
A faithful God who does no wrong, 
upright and just is He.

Do I really believe His ways are perfect and just, and God does no wrong? In my heart, I know these words are true, but are they a reality in my life? When I am honest, I must admit I often sound like a whiny child crying out to God, "It's not fair...."

The Sermon on the Mount (Matthew, Chapters 5, 6, and 7) teaches us that when we are doing the work of Jesus, there is no time for us to stand up for ourselves. Jesus says we shouldn't be wasting time looking to see if we are being dealt with fairly or justly. When we catch ourselves doing so, it is a sign that we are falling short in our devotion to Him. 

In his classic devotional book, My Utmost for His Highest, Oswald Chambers wrote:

"Never look for justice in this world, but never cease to give it. If we look for justice, we will begin to grouse and to indulge in the discontent of self-pity...If we are devoted to Jesus Christ we have nothing to do with what we meet, whether it is just or unjust."

Just like my children cry out for fairness when they don't get their own way, I look for ways to justify my selfish desires. I want to be appreciated. I want to be noticed. I want to be obeyed. I want, I want, I want. Instead of trusting God with all of my heart, I lean to my own understanding. And I imagine my heavenly Father shakes His head in disappointment, wondering when I will truly believe that He is righteous and just and perfect in all of His ways. 

No, life will be never be fair, but God will always be just. As He patiently works in my heart to bring me to a place of peace and rest and contentment, I can relinquish my will to His and devote myself to serving Him. Only when my children see a genuine selfless spirit in me, can I ever hope to see a selfless spirit in them.

Checking In

I had every intention of posting to this blog every Tuesday and Thursday, but then life happened. The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of getting Rachel and Nathan off to college and adjusting to the changes that brings to our family. I cannot even begin to say how much we miss both of them. I find myself turning around to say something to one of them, and then having to remind myself that they are 300 miles away from home, living in their dorms, making new friends, going to classes, and venturing forth in another stage of life.

Rachel and Nathan, the week before they left for HSU

Of all the tasks of parenting, this has been the most difficult. I am NOT good at pushing chicks out of the nest. Other parents with more years under their proverbial parenting belts assure me that this will get easier with time, but I just don't see that happening. Even though this is the third year for Rachel to head off to HSU, still there is a gaping hole in our family when everyone isn't here, and it only gets filled when they are back home. And while I must admit that there are certain times when I would like to take a little vacation from certain family members, on the whole, I am most at peace when I have all my chicks gathered together under one roof.

Rachel, one of the HSU Six White Horse Riders

I have spent the weeks since they left grieving and then throwing myself into the flurry of preparations for the upcoming year of home educating the six children still at home. I have been keeping myself busy -- very busy, so I can avoid thinking about how much I miss Rachel and Nathan. I find myself praying -- a lot:

• Lord, give them good roommates.
• Lord, teach them to balance their work, school, and social lives. 
• Lord, let them remain true to their convictions and the things we have taught them. 
• Lord, watch over them and keep them safe. 
• Lord, guard their hearts and minds.
• Lord, lead them to choose their friends wisely.
• Lord, let them see the importance of maintaining a close relationship with You.
• Lord, never let them forget how much we love them.
• Lord, don't let them ever think they could survive without their Mama!

Nathan & I having fun at the Tyler Zoo gift shop

I admit it. My heart is breaking, but God is faithful to comfort me. I am thankful for e-mail and texting and cell phones and Facebook. I am able to keep in touch with them so much better than my parents were able to stay in touch with me. And I have even used my lovely penmanship to write them letters -- you know, with envelopes and stamps!

Soon we will settle into a new routine. It will include church, school, basketball practices, and 4-H activities, as well as all of the work involved with just living life. I will get to the point where opening empty dresser drawers or seeing an empty seat at the table won't bring me to tears. And, hopefully, I will get into the discipline of blogging twice a week...hopefully.

Our Adoption Story: The Pioneers, Part 1

Our Family, Fall of 2009

As I was familiarizing myself with the ins and outs of Blogger, I discovered that I could add a little tagline to my blog title. So, in the spirit of Little House on the Prairie, I dubbed myself a modern day pioneer in transracial and open adoption.

For those of you who don't know our history, we have adopted eight children as infants. Five of our children have African American heritage and one of them is Native American. Our first adoptions were termed "touch adoptions," in that we had letter and photo contact that was filtered through our adoption agency. No identifying information was shared, to the point that one child's birthmom had to use a pseudonym since she has a very unique first name.

The day we became parents to Rachel, April, 1989

Rachel (2) and baby brother, Nathan, Summer of 1991

Fast forward a few years. We were a "perfect family." We had a daughter and a son who were 27 months apart in age. They even looked like us, so no one knew we had adopted them unless we chose to tell our story. As we were having a dinner celebrating our 11th anniversary, Syd and I began sharing what was on our hearts. There was room in our hearts and home for more children, and we just couldn't get away from the nagging feeling that God had other plans for us. We prayed and prayed, and when we knew the Lord's direction for us, we contacted the adoption agency. We knew there were children from minority groups who needed forever families, and we asked the agency if we could be considered for one of these children. It wasn't long before David joined our family. (See post #2)

David's first day as a Newman, July of 1994

Seven months later, we were licensed foster parents, were about to finalize David's adoption, and were a shepherding family to birthmoms who needed a place to stay. We welcomed a birthmom into our family on a Monday afternoon, believing she had about 6 weeks until her delivery. Surprise...less than 36 hours later, she delivered a healthy, full-term baby girl in our living room! After the birthmom returned to her family, the agency asked us to provide foster care for the baby. David was only 7 months old, but we loved babies, especially this one, so we agreed. It didn't take long to fall in love with Miriam.

David, Nathan, and Miriam, March of 1995

Many agencies were moving toward open adoption, but our agency wasn't one of them. When we had the opportunity to adopt Miriam, we jumped at the chance, and thus became our agency's first open adoption in which the birthparent and adoptive parents met, formed a relationship, and mutually agreed to the placement. The details of how God worked in amazing ways to make Miriam a part of our family are material for another post, but let me just say that we serve a mighty God and that the fatherless truly find compassion in Him. (Hosea 14:3)

Syd and Miriam taking a nap, March of 1995

To be continued...

The Snake in the Chicken House

"Mom, Mom! You've GOT to come outside NOW!"

Obviously, Miriam does not realize that I am on the phone with my dear friend, Lisa -- having my weekly mental health chat. I give Miriam the "raised eyebrow" and continue talking.

Insistently, she continues, "Mom, there is a HUGE snake in the chicken house, and Daddy has caught it, and it's big and red, and it is SPITTING EGGS OUT AT DAD!!!!!"

This description certainly catches my attention...and the attention of everyone else in the house. So the troops all head out to see what's happening. Seizing the opportunity for a little peace and quiet, I remain in the house and continue talking on the phone, all the while giving Lisa the play by play commentary on the snake capture and release.

Now I don't know if my dear Syd is unique, but he has a weird fascination with snakes which he has passed on to our children. I, on the other hand, prefer to stay as far away from snakes as possible. From the safety of my living room, I watch as they gather up the snake catching kit -- yes, we have a kit for this pastime which consists of Syd's custom made capture pole and a canvas bag. With a few mishaps, the snake is captured. Evidently, he is VERY stinky.



The snake hunter and his followers parade down to the creek. After some poking and prodding, the snake emerges from the bag and slithers up the tree.



The bystanders calmly observe the really, really long snake.



Having accomplished their mission, my young naturalists traipse back to the house. Josiah and Gideon detour at the water trough to wash the stinky stuff from their hands.



Josiah is barely in the door when he announces,"That snake was barfing eggs all over the place. I've never seen a snake barf. I want a pet snake, Mom."

A 6-foot long, egg-eating, barfing snake for a pet?

What do you think my answer is?