The magic of the one-year mark

If you adopt a child you'll hear "just wait until it's been a year..." or "you won't really find your new 'normal' until one year at home" or "all of this stuff will be a distant memory once you hit the one-year mark."

Oh, the hype.

Let me clear something up for you, sweet unsuspecting momma.

There is nothing magical about hitting that circled date on the calendar except that you survived and everyone survived along with you.

At the one-year point your child (consciously or not) may remember the year before, the trauma that happened, the loss... and grieve again.

At the one-year point you may be disappointed in your level of attachment. Them to you, or you to them.

At the one-year point you may be still struggling with lies, sneakiness, language barriers, trust issues and resentments.

At the one-year point you may still be grieving the life you had before.

At the one-year point you may believe the lie that "this is as good as it will ever get between us"... and it may be your marriage you're talking about.

At the one-year point you may be struggling more than you were at the one-month point and feel like a failure.

At the one-year point you may still be "one day at a time" surviving.

And it's okay.
It IS normal.
It will get better.
It may not ever look like you thought it would... but it can be beautiful in a different way.
This is not the end of the story. The story isn't over until the day you meet Jesus.

It's called being a parent. Parenting is sacrifice. Not in the "ohhh look what awesome people we are for our huuuuge sacrifice" sort of way, but in the daily "this sucks but I'm doing it anyway because I know what's right" kind of way. Every time you respond with patience and kindness when every fiber of your being wants to snap and look like a guest on Maury Povich... you've sacrificed. You've grown a tiny bit and you're becoming better. Every time you look up, give your full attention and don't send the child away but listen to the story about the pretzel that looked like an A or a V depending on the way you turn it... you've made progress. You're getting there. You're doing it. Bit by bit. Day by day. Moment by moment. And you're succeeding!

It's been one year since we brought our 5 home and yes, there are still struggles! Yes, we love our family! Yes, I still snap and freak out when someone uses the wrong verb then makes it plural. Yes, I fail and toss and turn at night thinking about how my children will only ever remember me losing my junk over the 15th spilled drink of the night or the time I wore noise-cancelling headphones while eating dinner because they could NOT for the sake of their lives and mine use their inside voices.

But then I have little successes:
a boy comes all the way back inside to give me a hug before school because he forgot;

one tells a sister to 'go get mom to help you' instead of being the parent this time;
"Mom! Did you see me?!" and I did.

And I realize... we're doing it.

It may not be magical at the one-year point... but I'm here to tell you that the 2 year mark is coming. Then the 3-year. Then the point will someday come when your child has been in your family more than they ever weren't... and THAT is magical.
No, that's redemption.

When you're 15

My very first little girl is 15 today!

It doesn't quite seem possible...

seeing as how there's no way 

I'm old enough to have two teenagers..!

(humor me)

Dear sweet daughter,

I thought about what to write for your birthday. I thought about being all sappy and sentimental.

I thought about reminiscing about all the birthdays before today. I thought about telling the world some of the funny things you've done/said/written. I thought about just posting that picture of you covered in mud from Sunday. (I reserve the right to post it here further down the page.)

Ultimately, I decided that I'd like to share with you the things I hope for your future.

A Mommy's Fifteen Wishes for her Baby Girl on her Fifteenth Birthday!

1. Friends. I hope you have a couple of good friends. The kind that call you out on things that aren't right, support you when the whole world tells you "you can't", cry with you and make you laugh and spit liquids out of your nose. 

2. Selective Hearing. I wish I could sit on your shoulder and whisper in your ear every time someone says something unkind, untrue, unwholesome or hurtful. I would whisper truths - you are good, you are kind, you are beautiful, you are worthy, you are wonderful. 

3. Childhood. I wish for you to slow things down, enjoy the simple things, enjoy being a kid a little while longer. Twirl in your dresses, sit in your blanket fort and color, sleep with your blankie. These things go by so fast but they don't have to be gone just yet. 

4. Silliness. You have such a great sense of humor... don't ever lose that! The hardest things in life are lightened up with laughter! Spend some time being silly, practice laughing at yourself, and don't take life too seriously. 

5. Safety. Listen to the still, small voice in your spirit... the one that tells you to freeze right where you are, or leave right away. Trust it. Obey it. And keep your phone in your purse in the back seat when you finally get to drive a car. 

6. Direction. Like a compass that always points north, I wish for you a lifetime spent seeking after the heart of Jesus. Let Him be your North and all of the decisions you need to make will be easier because you know which way you are heading. 

7. Comfort. I wish for you to be comfortable in your own skin and comfortable with who you are. You are beautiful. Your heart is kind. You are fearfully and wonderfully made.

8. Smile. You have such a beautiful smile! I hope you can be the type of young adult who has a happy heart and brings joy to those around you (and skip the moody/brooding/dark/emo years. Please.)

9. Clarity. I hope you see through the fog of this world and are able to simply see the right way to go. I pray you don't get bogged down sifting through the shiny new offerings the world wants to distract you with, and that you can always tell the fools gold from the real thing.

10. Modesty. I know it's hard in our society... but I wish for you to value yourself and your future husband so much that you dress the way you'd want other women to dress around him.

11. Independence. I hope you grow up to be the type of woman who can change her flat tire AND make homemade bread with dinner. A woman who can install a ceiling fan AND walk in heels. Not that you "don't need a man" but that your need for him is more than just what he can do around the house.

12. Travel. Go - see stuff! Swim with dolphins, climb mountains, hike trails, feed the hungry, bandage the wounded, pray with the oppressed... then come home. Because I'd miss you if you were gone for very long.

13. Siblings. Yeah, you figured I'd throw this in... but I wish for you to have a great relationship with them (yes, all of them... even the teen boy and pre-teen girl). You have an amazing gift in having so many brothers and sisters. You will always have family. You will always have nieces and nephews. You will be someone's favorite Aunt. You will always have a place to go for holidays and you will always have someone who is willing to drive to wherever you are just to sit with you when you're facing something hard. Don't squander your gift.

14. Saving. Save money for a rainy day, save notes, save journals, save ticket stubs and mementos. Save time for what's important, save your wisdom for those who ask for it, save your love for the one who deserves it.

15. Love. Oh, yes, baby girl... I wish for you to find love some day. But right now, fall in love with the One who IS Love. Let Him show you what it is to be loved and what love should look like. Don't fall for the lies of this world, for the infatuations and the crushes. Wait and see... wait and be sure... because I've been praying for the one man God has for you for your someday! I've been praying for him since you were a baby. He's going to be something special. He will be patient and kind, strong and sincere, romantic and smart, wise and discerning. He will be enthralled with your beauty and you will be his treasure. Dad and I - we want only who is right for you. Trust us in this. We love you too much to trust you to anyone but the one God has in store for you.

So, sweet baby girl... this is my list of hopes, dreams, wishes and prayers for you on your 15th birthday! I'm so proud of you you are, who you are becoming, and who you hope to someday be. You are amazing. You are lovely. You are my treasure and I'm so thankful you are mine!

Happy Birthday! 

Love,

Mom

 

Women of Planks

This is one that's been rolling around in my head for quite some time now.

I've noticed that online, in print, and on social media outlets people have lost all decorum and sense of self-control. They no longer think about who they hurt with their words and instead just go all-out vigilante on whoever they think is doing wrong in the world at the moment.

The one that really got to me recently was a series of posts by a friend who is a pro-life activist in her area.

Now, before you start heading for the "x" button to get the heck out of this blog post ASAP... hear me out.

I'm pro-adoption, pro-babies, pro-mommies, pro-people.
I'm pro-making good choices and I'm pro-marriage. I'm pro-waiting. I'm pro-choosing what's best for another even if it hurts you personally. I'm pro-loving people who don't think like me. I'm pro-Jesus and I think he's anti-hate.

When I scrolled through some pictures from a church event at a pro-life rally recently I noticed SO much hate. So much looking-down-our-noses at those who would/are/did choose abortion. I saw fear and hate and guilt and disgust and pride and ickyness. I saw the clear absence of Jesus. I saw name-calling and condescending terminology. I saw Christians acting like Pharisees. I saw Godly women with plank-filled eyeballs calling out others' sins in disgust. I wanted to puke. Then sob in a corner.
Because, people... this is NOT what Jesus would do. I've yet to find one reference in scripture to Jesus blasting someone's sins with hate mail or wearing an outer-garment emblazoned with "babies>murder". I've yet to find him not reaching down to touch the hand of the broken, healing the wounded, and comforting the mourning soul. I've yet to find him preaching via sign-on-a-stick.

The pro-lifer's call it "going to march at the abortuary" or "murder office"... pro-choicer's call the pro-lifers "forced birthers" and say they "seethe with hatred and disgust while preaching about God's laws".

Am I saying don't be active with causes you feel strongly about? Absolutely not.
What I AM saying...

Choose life, yes. But choose LOVE in how you speak.
Choose to help, not to hurt.
Choose to support, not to shame.
Choose to love, not to hate.
Choose to empower, not to fear.
Speak kindness and love and compassion over those who are fearful.
Speak kindness and love and compassion over those who are ashamed.
Speak kindness and love and compassion over those who feel stuck.

And put down your freaking signs.
They are disgusting.

If you MUST carry a sign, carry a sign that simply says "Please, don't."
Carry a sign that says "I'll help."
Carry a sign that says "Signs hurt, Jesus heals."
And then carry plentiful hugs, smiles, compassion and tears.
Consider their sins no worse than your own.
Consider if this was your daughter, or sister, or neighbor or best friend.
Consider your greatest failures on display for all to see... then trying to hide from the fear and shame...
but instead you are doubly shamed by those who were commissioned to love you.

Shame on us for ever looking down on another in disgust.
Shame on us for using our "christianity" to bring condemnation on another.

*EDITED TO SAY**
Thank you sweet friends who are concerned about my stance on abortion. I'm pro-life, but pro-ALL-life. I think that with as much passion as we have for the unborn, we should love the already-born. I think pro-lifers should be pro-adoption. They should be pro-teen mothers and pro-incarcerated mothers and pro-homeless mothers. We should love others the way we've been loved. And if love is the ultimate way we can BE Jesus... we should love that way and I don't think that way includes being hateful. Yes, pray. Yes, discussions in love. Yes, march on Washington. NO hateful, shameful, angry signs written to the women visiting the clinic.
I hope that clears up my position. :)

20 things I've learned

I realize it's been awhile since I've blogged anything.
It's not for lack of activity... I just feel like anything I have to say goes like this:
"Hi there! Well... things are busy... mostly good... it's winter... I'm tired of cold...the end."

So... I decided instead of 2 months of posts like THAT, I'd share with you some things I've learned over the past many weeks of radio silence.

I present to you: "
20 Things Chrissy has learned and feels the need to pass on to you, unsuspecting blog readers!"

1. The 6' tall shelf in the pantry is no match for a 4 year old in footsie pajamas who REALLY wants Girl Scout Thin Mints at 5:45am.

2. A 4 year old who is startled at 5:45am while eating stolen cookies will not drop the bag of cookies, but will drool chocolate while formulating an excuse.

3. The inner cardboard tube does not go down the toilet. Ever. Just put on gloves and pull it out. Long gloves.

4. You don't want to know what the sticky thing is on your sock. Just pull them off and throw into the washing machine.

5. Birthday cake for breakfast is totally acceptable. Just do it. It's no worse than donuts or Cap'n Crunch - no offense, Cap'n.

6. There is no vacuum in the world that is a match for 12 kids and a Great Pyrenees. A shop vac with an extension cord is your friend.

7. Noise cancelling headphones are also your friend.

8. Drink lots of water. Migraine-free for 15 days on 80oz a day! Woot!

9. If you spend 2 hours making homemade soft pretzels 5 of your children will think they are toxic. Actually 7 will... but two will see the reaction the 5 caused and decide to quietly choke it down anyway.

10. The amount of time spent doing a new hairstyle is directly proportionate to the difficulty your daughters will have locating their elusive sleep hats. You will threaten to wrap their heads in underwear. Take deep breaths.

11. 2100 square feet is not quite enough for 14 people and a giant dog. Well, the people can fit... it's all of their stuff. Not my stuff. My stuff is awesome.

12. If you plan to relax with a cup of hot something and read a book for an hour during nap time it WILL be the day your children act as though your quesadillas contained ephedrine.

13. Chalkboard paint + red sidewalk chalk = no bueno (in keeping with the quesadilla theme). Let's all ban together to outlaw Red Dye #40. And all other red dye too. I hear you can use beet dye to make Red Velvet cake. If this is true, I'm starting that petition.

14. The Care Bear Stare does not work on a sink full of dishes. It's not moving. Stubborn.

15. A coughing child is pitiful. Two coughing children grate on your nerves. 4-6 coughing children drive you to noise-cancelling headphones and googling "world's strongest cough suppressant" even though three of your kids are allergic to dextromethorphan. Yes, I spelled that without looking it up. (and just so you know... the general consensus is that the world's strongest stuff tastes like "melting down a Vicks mentholated cough drop, steeping a bunch of pine needles in it and then sprinkling in some ground-up moth balls for seasoning." I'm totally getting some.)

16. Your straight-A earning, honor-roll making, AP class taking daughter who has missed 13 days of school without getting a doctor's note will not be granted any special exceptions to the "over 10 absences" rule and will have unexcused absences listed. You will not care because she's a straight-A earning, honor-roll making, AP class taking sweetheart of a girl who was legitimately sick but didn't go to the doctor because who wants to pay $40 to hear "rest and fluids... it's a virus"? Certainly not you. Or me.

17. As much as you don't like to play the "give me a freaking break. I have 12 kids." card, the day you email the wrong info to the wrong person about the wrong children, then send in the wrong field trip permission trip form with the wrong kid, then forget a doctor's appointment and realize you never made a follow-up ortho appointment... you can play that card and play it you shall. Get a t-shirt made. Order business cards. Or make them yourself out of empty toilet paper tubes and red sidewalk chalk - that would be more effective anyway. And pat yourself on the back when you go to bed knowing you kept everyone alive for another day - even if you didn't once call a child by their actual name on the first try. There's always tomorrow. Or the day after that. And accuracy stifles creativity. Go with it.

18. Do not try to do yourself any favors and get the sugar-free or lite version of any coffee at Starbucks. You will hate it and it won't be the same. Get a small instead and enjoy it. Sheesh.

19. Small children yelling from the back seat - even in a giant 15-passenger van - CAN and WILL be heard at the drive-thru yelling "CAKE STICK!! CAKE STICK!!" Assure the drive-thru operator that they are not cake-stick deprived and no, you don't wish to crawl through the van trying to find the rogue cake ball to stop the shrieking of one very small 4 year old with ZERO cake-stick coordination.

20. Never underestimate the power of a well-timed Disney movie. DVR shows and don't allow them to be viewed until juuuuuuuust the right time that you need it... then WHAM! Instant TV-trance and you have a few moments of peace! Win-win.

Melkam Genna, a year later

A year ago this morning in Addis Ababa, I anxiously awaited a driver named Binyam (who ran on Ethiopian time) to arrive at the guest house to drive me and the other parents who had arrived in Ethiopia before me over to the orphanage to meet my children!

I had consumed multiple cups of super strong coffee, forced down some eggs with shells mixed in for good measure, chatted with the families I had only previously met through emails, and kept glancing out the door like a crazy person.

Finally, he arrived, I ran around announcing to the other families that he was here and it was time to GO!

The long, bumpy ride through the streets of Addis seemed to take forever. It was a familiar ride - horns beeping, goats and cows interweaving with people on the sidewalks, children in tattered and torn clothing, mothers begging at cracked open car windows, buses crammed so full of people I started suffocating just looking. Finally, one of the other mommies said "this is the street" and I felt my heart rate triple instantly. I fumbled with my cameras, asked others to take photos, mumbled something about not photographing my hindquarters, wiped sweaty palms on my jeans and grabbed the seat in front of me as we hit every pot hole down the alley to the gate. The van stopped with a jerk and the driver turned off the engine. Immediately little hands and toes appeared at the gate as children were shouting that someone was here.

I was so incredibly nervous.

Would I recognize them from their photos? Would they know me? Would they run away? Would they even like me? Would they be afraid of me or turn into show-offs? Would I like them?

As we piled out of the van and fumbled towards the gate, I remember thinking this was lacking any sort of pomp and circumstance. I'm about to meet my children! Where is the ceremony? Where is the parade? Life just goes on all around us like the entire world isn't aware of how this meshing of two worlds is about to change the lives of 14 people forever!! Don't they care? Shouldn't there be a moment of silence and some sort of... something?? This is EPIC, people!! Somebody make an announcement or stack up some rocks as a monument to this moment!

Then the gate creaked open on it's rusty metal hinges in that sound that normally races up my spine like a horror film sound track... but I barely noticed. I was scanning the sea of faces looking for the ones that belong to me.

I saw her. The baby of the five... looking up at me with those big eyes that we now joke would allow her to get away with anything. She looked nervous, so I smiled and walked inside the gate. I recognized them immediately, even mingled in with the other children. In my head, I was matching names with faces and trying to absorb everything my senses were picking up.

In this 15 seconds of elapsed time, suddenly I realized I was standing within the same 4 walls as the children I'd been dreaming and praying about for the past 5 months and I reached down and scooped up that baby girl and squeezed her tight.

She giggled, hugged me back and started inspecting my necklace, sunglasses, ponytail and face. The other four were right behind her, clamoring for hugs and inspecting this white lady from their photo albums. There was this somewhat awkward moment when we were all just looking at each other and across the lines of two languages there was an understood emotion of "It's really YOU!" in the air. 

Photos were taken, videos were rolling, and I think the only word I was able to say was "Wow..." for about 5 minutes.

 

 

 This day was incredible to say the least. It also happened to be Genna - Christmas in Ethiopia where they follow the Julian calendar. We played and hugged some more, saw everything there was to see that they wanted to show me, and then had a Christmas feast together complete with goat, lots of things I couldn't identify, lots of injera and lots of coffee. The kids drank soda and I attempted to choke down a tiny glass of honey wine out of respect.

I don't remember much of the rest of this day except for an overwhelming sense of peace - I had met them, they were wonderful! Any fears I had previously had about adopting older kids, older boys, a large group of children all at once, or anything else I'd imagined or read about online... were gone.

Melkam Genna, Ethiopia.