New Do

Binyam has been growing out his hair for some time and this is why. He calls them spikes, "You Tube" calls them Twists, and the 5 yr-old boy at the post office today called them Noodles. Whatever you want to call this "do" is fine, but he thinks his hair is awesome. He's excited to wear these "spikes" to his first day of preschool on Sept. 6.

Farm's Have Families

We've been in Iowa for 10 days now visiting family, camping, and enjoying the view of corn stalks. Life in Chicago is full, fast, and fun but void of pasture, plush grass to roll around in, and a back yard in which to play car wash. We've been enjoying these luxuries. I'm realizing that Iowa is beautiful. And the kids are appreciating it too. While driving to the town of Boone to ride a passenger train Binyam was noticing the corn fields. We were explaining to him that people living in the nearby farms take care of the corn - planting it, harvesting it, and selling it to have money for their family. He thought about that for awhile, then said, "Hmmm, I didn't know farms had families."

The train ride would have put me to sleep with the soothing rocking motion but Binyam would tap me determined he saw a coyote in the woods. He listed every animal he could think of wondering if they could be hiding in the trees we were passing. Jadyn propped her feet up and let the wind blow in her face. I cuddled up next to her and she said, "This is just so beautiful, Mom." Liberty took over 100 pictures of the scenery, some CLOSE UPS of Grandma and Grandpa, and a few of random passengers. Tait fell asleep on Grandpa's shoulder. It's been a fun trip but tonight Jadyn said she's missing home and Liberty added, "I miss it's smell." Hopefully, she won't be too disappointed with the smell because we have two more days before we head back to the city and I forgot to take out the garbage.

Naked Day!

I finally figured it out! The answer is Naked Day! It's the only way I can beat the Laundry Monster! After three days of trying and failing to get the clean clothes folded and put away before the dirty clothes jumped back into the hamper -it came to me. Naked Day! This is the only way I'll win this silly game I play. If I don't let my kids wear clothes then they can't get them dirty, right? I ran it by my husband today and he only laughed. He's not taking me seriously. Actually, I'm not taking me seriously either. However, the thought of actually implementing this made me laugh! Such a silly thought lightened my spirit while I loaded, unloaded, folded, and sorted...again.

A little later in the day I was quickly filling up the 275 water balloons Binyam received as a birthday gift in between laundry loads. We've been waiting for a beautiful day and in my impulsive way I decided today was the day. So, while waiting for the dryer to do it's thing I quickly filled, tied, and piled the water balloons - one by one - until the package was empty! Did I mention there were 275 of those slippery things? All the while, I was pondering how water balloons and laundry are so similar! A job done only to be undone in moments. The call of motherhood.

My first thought when comparing the two was that at least water balloon fights produce squeals and belly-laughs. But then I remembered Liberty skipping past me this morning after rummaging through her clean clothes pile and saying, "Oh goody, you washed my favorite pair of shorts." I guess both are worth it. This reminds me of a song that I heard for the first time last month and now it frequently circles my minds' play list.



Hope you can smile in your tail-chasing today! And if Naked Day ever is put into effect in your home - let me know how it goes!

From Bull Rider to Bull

Another rainy day. Boys with unused energy. A mom scanning the minds files trying to find something to engage the boys and burn off the Cinnamon Toast Crunch of breakfast. An archived file was retrieved titled "Bullriding." That was it! I had found something that would cause my boys to sweat and keep them busy for at least half-an-hour.

Bull riding was a tradition when my oldest three children were little. I would lay in the middle of my bed on my back and one-by-one the kids would climb onto my legs. As with any good game there were rules involved. Keeping with professional bull riding rules, the kids could squeeze my legs with their legs but they could only hold on with one hand while the other hand flailed around in the air. This game quickly progressed from leisurely bull rides to bull riding tournaments. I would announce the rider, their experience, and the name of the bull they were riding. Each rider would try to last the flip-flopping eight seconds of mom's legs without being thrown onto the pillow-pile at the head of the bed.

My legs would burn as I'd bend my knees back and forth and straighten them in the air, make circular motions, and just go crazy-wild trying to release my little bull rider. Giggles and squeals followed, while the waiting riders cheered on the bull. It was always more fun to see their siblings be bucked off than last the eight seconds.

Black-eyed Bart was the most fierce of all the bulls. If he bucked you off you better scoot off the bed or he'd come after you. They all wanted to brave Black-eyed Bart, but few succeeded.

So, today it was Binyam's turn at bull riding and he thought it was a great idea. Tait resurrected Black-eyed Bart's memory and stacked the pillows to soften the fall for his little brother. Binyam was a tough rider and held on for dear life. Tait and I took turns being the bull and coming up with crazy names. It was my turn to be the bull and Tait was laughing as his scrappy brother hung on relentlessly when he said, "I wish I could still be the bull rider." Time stood still for one moment as I flashed back to my little Tait outlasting his sisters and usually winning the tournament. He rode the bull like Binyam and had the same tenacity. But his bull riding days have passed and he has been promoted to being the bull. No matter how hard he pleaded, I knew my legs couldn't handle his strength and the bull wouldn't even be able to leave the pen. Sweet boy is creeping toward manhood. It was a beautiful moment as silly tradition was passed on from one bull rider to the next. From one energy-filled brother to another. The boys laughed and I pondered the reality of my son being promoted from bull rider to bull.

Hurry up and read this...

Running late the other morning, hurrying to school, and wouldn't you know a car had to park in the right hand lane so I couldn't pull over and turn right. I don't know if that car was even parked legally and honestly I was annoyed. The light was red so the traffic wasn't moving, but I wanted to get into the right lane so I would be ready to turn when the light changed. Frustrated. Late. And then it hit me...why am I in such a hurry to get closer to that red light only to wait? Unlike Iowa, Chicago forbids right hand turns on red and even when the light changes to green the wait continues as all 60,000 people of Albany Park make their way across the street. Again...why was I in such a hurry only to wait?

We did make it to school that day and parked in our usual spot a block away. The van door flew open with a thud and out tumbled my clowns in a full-on backpack-bouncing sprint. Past the big houses, yielding momentarily at the alley, then trudging with weakening legs up to the corner where Angel Food Bakery sits. And there they stop. Slouched over, hands on their knees. Huffs and puffs as they look back in my direction, knowing they too had hurried only to wait for me to catch up so we could cross the street together. What's with hurrying to wait?

This thought sums up the journey of adoption. Paperwork, fingerprints, doctors appointments, social worker visits, and more paperwork. Hurrying only to wait. Many have asked where we're at in the process and my answer is waiting. Eight weeks of waiting for one piece of paperwork. And guess what??? Once we receive that paperwork, it will be submitted and we're back to waiting.

I guess this thought really sums up much of life. Why do I live my life hurrying to wait?

"Be still and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth." Psalms 46:10

Back to "Normal"

Jadyn has returned from China but is having trouble returning to "normal" life. As soon as she got home she gave us the play-by-play as we looked through her pictures. The first few days they did some sight-seeing - The Great Wall of China, The Forbidden City, 2008 Olympic Buildings, and a Flying Acrobat Show - to name a few. Not only did she see these beautiful artworks but she also learned the history behind them. She described the detailed paintings on the buildings in The Forbidden City. She shared with us that it took 14 years of slave labor to complete the entire city and that it was created for one emperor. 14 years!!! (Hopefully I got all the facts right.) She was impressed by the creativity and the effort! We were impressed! We were also amazed to realize it is simply a tourist sight - no one resides there anymore. All that work - just to look at!? Interesting! The artist in her liked it.

But none of these sights, no matter how grand, artistic, or expensive compared to Sage, Vincent, Landon, Angel, Josiah, Claire, Reagan and all the other kids she spent the rest of the week loving. She knew each child's special need, their laugh, and the sound of their voice. She knew where different children had been abandoned, which children had heart defects, which ones had been matched with families, which ones couldn't walk, and special feeding instructions for children with cleft palates. She's not crying because she misses The Great Wall! She's not looking at the pictures of the acrobat show over and over again so she doesn't forget the costumes and amazing acts of bravery. No, she misses the people that she shared her life with. The sweet kids that she most likely will never see again. Tonight we looked at the pictures again, and she cried, again. As a mom, I ache for her. As a mom, I hope her life never returns to "normal."

What do you want to be when you grow up?

What do you want to be when you grow up? All I ever said was a "mommy." Sounded like the best job in the world when I was a little, skirted girl totin' around my brown yarn, piggy-tailed cabbage patch named Yvonne. I was a good mommy to Yvonne. We would swing and I'd sing. Then I'd put her in her little wooden bunk bed with the purple blanket, on the top bunk of course, so she'd be just like me. Sometimes I'd even squish Yvonne into a ball so she'd fit under my dress and give me a round-bellied look. Then, with no effort at all out she popped with a pretend cry. Being a mommy was an easy job!

Now years later, if asked, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" my reply is the same. (And I'm not just saying that to sound all sappy and emotional.) However, reality has punctured my dreamy images of me and Yvonne, because "mommy world" is very hard outside the land of make-believe. Before our littlest was added to the family I remember laying awake at night - afraid. Afraid of being able to love another, afraid my brains capacity to comprehend each child's dreams would spit, sputter, and eventually explode like a microwave exposed to metal. Afraid I wasn't strong enough...knowing I wasn't strong enough...how would I lead them along this bumpy, mean road called life.

That's when these words pushed their way into my worried head and unfurrowed my brow, loosened the tightened shoulders, and brought me peace at 4 a.m. so I could sleep. These words were this... "He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young." Mysterious words when pulled out and added to the middle of a blog. What does a shepherd have to do with anything? And how does thinking about shepherds help one sleep? I thought counting sheep was supposed to help bring sleep? Actually, focusing on the sheep was keeping me awake.

Chicago is full of interesting people with curious style and fascinating skills and careers, but I've never met a practicing "shepherd." Don't really know what kind of skills it takes to be a shepherd. But these words were written to a people that knew the skill of shepherding. It was real to them. The shepherd gave his sheep special attention. It is no wonder Jesus is called the Good Shepherd.

The closest thing I've seen to a real, human shepherd is what you see in the above picture. This was the view I saw every morning as I watched the sun come up in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. And honestly, it was peaceful. I was a silent observer from my hotel window as the animals grazed. I observed a lot from that window but this picture didn't stand out to me until today when I thought again of those comforting words. And it was then I noticed something new in the picture. The little person kneeling next to the animal, hugging him, lovin' on the dirty ol' thing. It's really beautiful, actually. And today I needed that encouragement.

You see, my 11-year-old baby boards a plane tomorrow, headed to China with her daddy. A dream for her. She is going to go love on little sweeties that are in need of a lot, all at her request. She can't speak their language, she's not medically trained to help them with their special needs, but she can love. It's her dream. Many kids have dreams and we know they are just "kid" dreams that will fade. But my baby's dream to run an orphanage in China isn't pretend to her, it's her reality. So they must go. Gently nudged by the Shepherd that this is how we were to guide our young. Anticipating that He is going to give her new eyes to see people as He does - as His creations. Anticipating that He will gently guide her as she helps these young ones.

I hope some day her dream comes alive. I'm glad mine has! Mommy-life is tricky, zany, and crazy hard. But I'm SO glad the Shepherd's there to gently lead me as I lead these little and "not-so little" ones. Like I said earlier, I'm not strong enough to do it alone...