The Little Things

I don't want to appear ungrateful or to be complaining. I have used this blog in the past to journal about the many paths this life has taken me and the others here on the Ponderosa down.  And sometimes it's messy and sometimes it's ugly.  But I have confidence in the end that it will all be beautiful.

Yet the day to day can wear me down faster than when all my bigs were little.

Those of my friends who have children with struggles. Children who suffer from some sort of trauma. Do you ever just want to ditch it all in and run away? Run away where no one can find you? I am tired of hearing, " I hate you." Every single moment is filled with a fight. Every. Single. One. I am drop dead tired.

I find myself here today.

I have cried. I have prayed.

So today I turned to my Wall of Remembrance and read about the times I have journaled about the van God provided for us. Or the Happy Gotcha Day of each of my children. Or the money orders that came from anonymous people just when we needed it. Or someone that God put in our path to help steer our wayward lambs. I remember the day of my sweet daughter's baptism. I remember my 2 year old's cry for his mommy. I remember my oldest lamb's prayers when he was a tot. I remember all the believer's God has put in our lives and in our fledgling children's lives.

I remember God's faithfulness even when I am faithless. I struggle to believe. But like the Psalmist, I will remember.

Hats Off!!!

Some of us like change; others do not; still others think they do, but respond negatively once they are placed in the upsy-downsy spin cycle of change. That would be me most times.

And it is a time of change here on the Ponderosa. My big-little men have left the nest. They are on the journey that many of us take during our late teens and early twenties. A journey that can take one down a dark path. A journey that slams natural consequences in the face of the traveler. The sting is hard and fresh but many times God-ordained and life changing. This is my prayer.

My girls are headed down new roads as well. "Marie" will be a senior next year and as a young lady with special needs, she is headed into some new territory with volunteering and job placement and training. God has provided so many things in our path as of recently that show to be a great help. Schooling for her in pretty much done and now we are on to some serious life-skills preparation.

This will be my 14th year homeschooling. I will have my third senior in 3 years. But my youngest, "Inger" will be trying a new endeavor, "real" school, as she calls it. As a parent of 4 adopted children, I have tried with all my strength (and the help of the Lord) to wear all the hats required to be a mom, wife, teacher, friend, disciplinarian, etc., but after much prayer, we have a chosen a Christian School that seems to fit the needs of our sweetie. And the peace of God is ruling in our hearts make the last plans for our next school year. I never thought I would choose this route after home schooling for all these years, but I know it is time.

I have learned so much as a mom, wife, and daughter of the King as I have taught my children at home. But I have come to believe this year, that God sometimes changes the course we are on for our good and for a different outcome. I struggle with feelings of failure as I have not wanted to give up this "hat", but there are so many struggles relationally due to the aspect of adoption that I now sigh in relief that I can give someone else the duty of teaching Math, English and other needed things. I won't ever give up the rearing of her little heart and mind to know the things of God. I know this is my God-given job to do forever.

Brilliant Light

This last week, my oldest daughter and I went to an appointment for a program through our local school system, called Vocational Rehab. They offer free help for "special needs" students as they get close to graduation; in order to find jobs or even get vocational training. (Even though she has always been home schooled, we can still use this service.) My sweet "Marie" is a junior in high school, almost 17 years old. She entered this life with so many struggles. She continued persevering in life and school even though many things seemed to be against her. And she has become a beautiful woman who loves God with all her heart.

As we entered the appointment, her nerves were on edge and neither of us really knew what to expect. As we left the appointment, I wanted to just cry. She did an amazing job, although the amazing part wasn't her poise, or knowledge of what she could articulate. It was her love for Jesus and she had no inhibition to express why she lives the way she does. Her worldview screamed loud and clear. When questions were asked about her blog or about her relationships with her parents, it came down to, "I write about what Christ has done for me..." or "sometimes I disagree with my parents, but I know they are trying to protect me and help me to do what is right."

The counselor that interviewed her was stoic and did not express emotion either way to "Marie's" responses, but I would have loved to get in her head.

One thing I am certain of is this: my sweetie's light was bright that day. She allowed the world, especially the counselor, to see what she lives for. She can't tell you her birthday some days. She can't tell you what the date is, how much money a cashier needs to give her back, or what time it is. But she is confident of this one thing: HE WHO BEGAN THE WORK IN HER IS STILL WORKING AND WILL COMPLETE IT!

Happy 17th Happy Gotcha Day, Little Joe!

Another milestone this year. Another celebration of life. My Littlest Boy-Man is soon to be a man-man.

Seventeen years ago, this funny, music-loving little one came into our lives. We had 3 days to prepare for another baby. He and his new big brother instantly bonded. And now, here we are almost half-way into his senior year! We are proud of the young man he has become and look, with anticipation, to what the Lord will do in his life in the future.

Eight Years

Today marks the day that a special little girl came into our lives. 

Eight years ago a cute little button was moved in after a long couple of months of day visits. This sweet Hannah was in a home that took our hearts with her each time we had to leave her. Foster homes can be a difficult place and that's where our girl lived for almost 2 years before we were able to take her home.

Many days, my heart is wrenched by compassion at the decisions that adults make and how they affect little ones. My little lamb struggles in many ways. Most of all, how to love and accept love. 

So today, we remember that day well. And we are so grateful God chose her for our family. She has brought much joy to us. She has taught us how to love better too! Our prayer is that as she loves all God's creation she would see her Creator as glorious!  

Adoption and One of Our Favorite Books

Lorilee Craker has done an amazing thing! She has written about two subjects very close to my heart. Adoption and Anne of Green Gables. Not only is she an amazing author, a writer comparable to Lucy Maud Montgomery, but she is also an adoptee who has also adopted a child herself. 

Miss Craker has taken all the amazing characteristics and personality of the Beloved Anne of Green Gables and parallels them with her own life. She does this in a most extraordinary way. Her writing brings so many pictures to life. The way in which in she shares her story is full of raw emotion; from sadness, grief, and confusion to joy, laughter and love. This is a book that will take you inside every aspect of adoption. Being an orphan is tragic and yet she opens the door to every person acknowledging that we are orphaned at one point or another in our lives. She takes us through all aspects of the adoption journey.

Personal Note: When I requested this book to review I had no idea it would impact the journey of my life over the past few months. No, the last 18 years.

Having four adopted children of my own, I get Lorilee's Momma's heart, but I had no idea she would share her own journey of being adopted herself. 

This year has brought about events in my life that I knew would happen sooner or later, but never realized the grief that would come along. Full days of weeping that wouldn't stop, and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't really understand the feelings my Boy-Man was going through. Mrs. Craker voiced her emotions and life events in a way that helped me work through many things my boy probably was feeling. Good and bad.  Her words brought comfort as she expressed things that have not been voiced to me but pray were things he felt. 

I take this book as a gift from God! A gift that has brought a measure of peace to a tumultuous year of raw emotions for this mother-son relationship.

God is the Color of Water

Almost two weeks an event happened in America that has affected, in a small way, our lives here on the Ponderosa. So much has happened in the world around us. I have waited to write about it until I felt timing was right.

I never imagined I would be having a discussion with my children about malicious hatred and a killing because of skin color in 2015. But Charleston occurred and now it is something I have to discuss. As the girls and I sat in a doctor's waiting room with the television tuned into Fox News on that frightful day, I sat with awe at what had transpired in South Carolina. I tossed around the thought in my mind to ask to change the channel, but I knew this was something I needed to be open with my children about.

They looked at the TV wide-eyed and then looked at me.

At that moment, I tried to feel what my girls were probably wondering. They didn't talk much but I thought for sure that this was a time that fear could grip them. I wanted to dispel all fears. I wanted them to know that not all white people believe what that one boy did/does. I wanted to point them to the Savior who died for ALL people who would place their complete trust in Him. I wanted them to feel love and compassion even for this individual who did this horrific thing. He needs Jesus too.

But I also wanted them to see the sin that so easily besets all of us. Sin of thinking we are better than someone else who lives differently than we do. Or is poor. Or is living a lifestyle contrary to God's Word. Or you name it. Pride is such a slippery slope.

My children are growing up in such a difficult time. Evil is called good. Good is called evil. We must look to the standard of Christ and His Word. We must a Gospel-Centered vision. Whatever comes our way, or people come into our paths we must see it as an opportunity to proclaim truth through Jesus Christ.

As I pondered the event from two weeks ago, I reminded myself of these things. I love my children so hard. They are born of my heart.  I love their different shades. We are a family. A family put together by a God who sees no color. I am thankful that we can shine His light.

Yes, I struggled with a vengeful heart, wanting that boy to hurt just like those families do, but, quickly, realized my heart of unforgiveness was just as sinful. I want more than anything to have a world that is full of love and peace. But, am fully aware that this will never happen until Jesus comes back. So until then, we have a mandate to share to the lost world about the Prince of Peace and the God of Love who loved so hard He gave His only Son to die for those who would repent and believe.

And so many still reject!

Let's be about our mission!

Pain Is Productive; Courage Turns to Encouragement

The last 6 years of our lives has seem to go at a snail's pace yet speed faster than a jet plane. Discouragement sets in; courage lifts us out. Our eyes wander from the cross to the darkness of the deepest pit. Yet, still His grace finds us.

Discouragement hit lately. The asking, "What if....." Wondering where the next leg of this journey will lead us.

But I am so thankful to the Lord that He helps us fight. Each time we fear, He reminds us He knows the outcome already and will be with us to face it. Each time we stumble in our own rebellious responses, He gently prods us back to His embrace. Our God is so good.

Recently I was able to write a brief synopsis of our journey in a pro-family magazine, called Above Rubies. As I wrote, I prayed. I prayed for the words to convey truth and honesty, yet humility and love. I prayed for those reading it. I asked the Lord to use it to encourage others going down the same path that we had traveled...and still are.

I have received emails from hurting parents. I have felt their pain. I have prayed for them.

I SEE!!!

I see how God does this thing. How He uses our lives to intersect with those going through similar pain. He shows such grace by using His clay pots. Some of us are cracked from such heat and the feelings of being dropped, although I personally know, I have never been out of the Savior's hand.

Wherever you may find yourself, friend; in whatever trial you are surrounded with, know He is there with you. Look around and see. There are others hurting like you are. Sometimes we are blinded while sitting in the heat, but at some point we must use the pain to encourage the body of Christ.

The Waiting

It arrived yesterday. I finished it today. I couldn't put it down.

Wow! Wow! Wow!

The Waiting, written by Cathy LaGrow, is a MUST READ! This heart wrenching story will stir every emotional bone in your body. Adoption is a subject close to my heart. Minka, also known as Minnie, is raped at 16 years old. She found out she was pregnant.

It was 1928.

Mrs. LaGrow is Minka's granddaughter. She writes this amazing story of love, betrayal, pain, loss and redeeming love in beautiful fashion. It is the story of a mother's pain in placing her baby in another mother's arms to raise and love, and then leading her life for a total of 96 years with this secret. Minka relies on the Lord for each day she lives and lives each day to her fullest. But still with a hole in her heart. Until that day, 80 years later when mother and daughter meet. As I read this book I couldn't help thinking about God's sovereignty. How He allowed this beautiful meeting to occur all those years later. How he orchestrated the events of both of their lives to flow strong with love and guidance from Him.

As I read the last chapter, I bawled my eyes out.

What a beautiful testimony of love! You feel the very heartbeat of this mother!

Whether you are an adoptive mother, birth mother, adoptee, or none of these, this book will inspire you to love better, to be thankful and to hold family closer than ever.

As a part of the Tyndale Bloggers Network, I received a free copy of this book.

I Had a Son Named Elisha

Ten years ago today, a 10 month old little boy was placed in my arms.

We named him Elisha.

He was a special needs baby who desperately needed a loving home. He was cross-eyed and had kidney failure. He couldn't turn over or hold his head up. But instantly, I was his mom. For the first time in my adoptive mothering I held him next to my bare chest and attempted to nurse him. I envisioned taking him to therapy, as I had done with some of my other lambs. I knew from experience love could conquer so much and his life would never be the same. His smile lit up his face. He had cute little dimples. His new family did nothing but dote on him from the time we brought him home from South Florida.

But our life was never the same.

On the third day of becoming his family, we received a dreaded phone call. Our attorney called to let us know that his birth mother called and changed her mind. (Florida Law states that if a baby is over 6 months old, she has 3 days to change her decision.)

My world crashed down around me. I held my dear Elisha all night and wept, not understanding why. Some dear friends took our older three children the next day and I said goodbye to my precious son, whom I had already born from my heart. My dear love took him and his possessions and met our attorney at the train station to hand him over to the woman who bore him. Mr. Cartwright had the perspective that I wish I could have had. As he handed my sweet Elisha to her, he spoke to her kindly and compassionately. He told her that there is Someone Who knows her pain. Someone Who gave up His only Son to death.

For Her. For Elisha. For the world.

And then proceeded to give her the Gospel message.

Days passed. The tears were fewer. Until 2 weeks later.

I received a telephone call from a detective. The words pierced my soul. My hands were shaking. "I am calling in reference to the death of an infant that has previously been in your care." WHAT!!!???!

Yes, Elisha was dead. Stories did not add up and there was an investigation of possible foul play. Pain ripped through my heart. The ending and outcome of this part of our story is still unknown. I never heard back as to what occurred.

On the other hand, I became angry. No, not a soul knew, but my own. I wrestled and wrestled. God was patient. I learned so much through this difficult time.

There are times in our lives when there are no answers. There is no understanding as to why. But one thing I learned is God is still to be trusted. Elisha is in a much better place than he would have been for the rest of his young days. I don't know why God chose to take him home. Even if someone else made the human decision to end his life, God still was sovereign over it.

Today as decisions need to be made concerning other things in my life, I can still trust my Creator.  I know pain seems so strong. But God's grace and love is stronger.

Who knows? Maybe the woman who carried Elisha and gave birth came to know my Savior through all of this. Though we will never know, GOD IS TRUSTWORTHY!

Mother: The Definition

(This an extremely honest post of my journaling through this difficult path. For eighteen years I have lifted up and praised the gift givers of my four precious lambs. I will continue to do so. But for today I lay my bare heart open.)

Two mothers means lots of questions and many mixed emotions.

My boy-man is caught up in these emotions.

And so am I.

I keep asking myself, "What makes a mother? A mom? A mommy?"

Giving birth is one aspect but essentially a small part. Eighteen years of being present. Changing diapers. Wiping noses. Mingling tears. Holding hands through the good and hard times. Hearing sweet words whispered in one's ear. Whispering "I love you too". Being there through the difficult, painful years of torn identity. 

Now before some of you misunderstand what I am saying, please let me explain. I have NO idea the immense pain one feels when giving birth then placing that bundle in someone else's arms. I can't even imagine being able to have the strength to do so. 

But I want to speak my heart today. Can one just expect to come back years later and talk about "being mom" and her "child" coming "home"?

These questions are on the tip of my heart all day. Every day.

And there may never be answers.

So as my wise pastor reminded me this week, "You have the opportunity to show forth the second greatest picture of the Gospel. The adoption of God's children. He reached down to save wretched sinners and adopt us not by anything we have done. ONLY BY UNCONDITIONAL LOVE!"

That's the kicker; the hardest thing in life, by far. To keep loving when rejected. 

In reality all the above issues come down to a heart issue. If Christ is central, others would be next. If Christ is Lord in the lives of everyone involved then there would be the ability to have positive resolutions. 

So today I pray for the hearts of those involved. That Christ would be Lord and Master.

I am confident Hoss will at some point truly remember who his "mother" is but until then I look to the cross.

Another Special Trip

As I write this, my precious gift of 18 years ago, is flying hundreds of miles to meet the gift giver. 

I met this gift giver at the same airport that my boy-man flew out of this morning just a short 18 years ago. This beautiful bundle was placed in my arms and the mommy-love flowed immediately. 

And has never stopped. 

And is even more strong. 

This love raised this gift. This love has shed millions of tears over the anguish of adoption. This love desires to understand the pain of my boy. This love has led to this day. Love is honest. So a piece of my heart is in the air as I write this.

I never knew such joy could mingle with such pain. I guess it's like birth. Birthing a piece of me from my heart. 

I am truly grateful and happy my SON will get answers to the pain he has felt for so many years, yet my heart cries out in fear of loss. 

So each breath I take today and tomorrow and the next day will look to my Savior and His Word to remind me of His truth. I will fight through the lies and I will strive to be thankful.

The Last Page

Well, not really. But kinda.

It is January 28th. Another Happy Gotcha Day. For Hoss. His 18th.

Every year since the day we received our little munchkins, we have added pages to their Happy Gotcha Day books. Just a simple photo book. The first few memories are pictures of the "final court date". The date the papers were signed that they are ours. Then each year after that we celebrate by doing something as a family, which usually includes food. In the later years it was JUST food. We write them a letter expressing our gratitude to the Lord and listing many reasons we are grateful.

Because of some teen struggles, Hoss has empty pages, except for our yearly letters which were sent to him via mail and also copied and put into his book. 

With the beauty of the journey comes pain. 

With joy comes sorrow. 

With age comes questions. 

With time comes answers...in the right time. 

So today we write his letter and chow down on some chicken tenders. We close his book with this final page. But praise the Sovereign Creator the end of the story isn't over. Praise Him that He has written it and we can trust him.

There are still lots of questions. Not so much anger. Plenty of laughs. Seldom tears. 

Our dear Hoss,

One book closes and another opens. We are celebrating your 18th Happy Gotcha Day! We remember like it was yesterday. Those tiny fingers. Your constant cooing. Your soft, curly hair. Your early words that charmed our hearts. The "I love yous". The funny times with your siblings. Then one day, you grew up. Where has time gone?

You are closer than ever to understanding a parent'


s heart. One day, you will probably be a parent. You may feel the need for more answers. We are here for you whatever and wherever the answers find you. 

We love you. Three little words that mean so much! 

We do.

Lovingly,Your daddy and mommy

My Cubby Turns 18!

Eighteen years ago, a very special boy was born in St. Louis, Missouri. He was born far away from my home, but God had a plan to place him in my arms. Not in a hospital. In an airport. Not at birth. At 5 weeks old. The labor pains were effortless at that time, but through the years I have felt those birth pangs. My heart is filled with thanksgiving for this little guy...who isn't so little anymore.

My dear "Hoss",

       Here we stand. Eighteen years old. How fast these years have gone! There are some days I miss my cubby who stood on the table singing his ABC's from the top of his lungs or my little bear who pretended to fish from his daddy's little john boat in the back yard. As I watched you play football this last year of school, I couldn't help but remember you at 2 years old playing football in your little bear undies in the living room. Yup, that was a perfect spiral you threw. Ha! The video plays back in my head so often of those long ago days.

       So much has occurred! So much pain and heartache for you and us, as well as your birth mom. I can only imagine how her thoughts run a muck at this time of year. I know yours probably do too. I don't discount all these feelings and unsure thoughts.

       But I also know and am positively sure that God has planned these events in your life. My heart is filled with gratitude for the decision she made. When you were placed in my arms, I finally felt the feelings that all mommies do. The feeling of overwhelming love. Love that mirrors our Lord's so well. You have brought so much joy to us over the years. Even though the past five years have been tumultuous, God has restored so much, and I cry with tears of joy.

        You have grown into such a strong man. I pray that you would continue to see that your talents and strength come from your Creator. That He is continuing to form you into the man He desires. Whatever comes your way, look to Him. Trust in Him. Seek Him.

         I love you with all my heart! I am proud to call you son!

Our Story in Brief

Some of you have followed the last 5 years of our lives, but may have never put together or been told our story. The following is a letter I submitted to a magazine that focuses on family, adoption and life.

Dear Nancy,

Let me start by saying how much I have been encouraged by your Above Rubies magazine. I love your focus on adoptive families and the gift of life. As my husband and I were looking over the new issue last night, he said to me, "You should write an article featuring our story." I have been blogging for the last 5 years about it, but feel like maybe I can be a voice to those who have struggled with the same things. 

We are an adoptive family. We are an multi-cultural family. All four of our adopted children are African American.  My husband and I have been married for 20 years this year. After many surgeries due to endometriosis, we started the adoption process for our oldest. This was our first and only private adoption. Our son, Joshua, was born on December 21, 1996. He was born in another state so we anxiously awaited that phone call. But our hopes were dashed as his birth mother changed her mind. God took us through that roller coaster and after 5 weeks she changed her mind again and he was placed in our arms. 

Twenty two months later, our second son, Nate, came into our lives at 5 months old. He was part of the foster care system and struggled with attachment reactive disorder until 5 years old. God's grace is the only way we were able to get through those years. But through those dark days, God called us to home school. The furthest thing is my mind was "being with that child" all day. But God changed my heart and showed me that's exactly what he needed.

Just over two years later, the department of family services called us and told us about a little special needs girl who needed a home. Esther was 22 months at that time. Since they knew we already had adopted African American children they thought of us. Esther had/has fetal alcohol syndrome and was failure to thrive. After one year of being our daughter, tests were run to rule out Autism, and it was discovered she had ACC (Agensis of the Corpus Collosum). In layman's terms, the central part of the brain in your Corpus Collusum. Hers is missing. This part holds 500,000,000 connectors to both hemispheres of your brain. We have been told she should be in a wheelchair not walking or talking. She "appears" normal to those who don't know her well. She struggles mostly with developmental/schooling delays and some social issues. But she is a miracle. Love is an amazing thing!

Now, having 3 children with a span of 2 years of age among them, I was overwhelmed for quite a while. There were many days of therapies and struggling to seemingly survive the emotional struggles. Little did we know that this would be a small part of the rest of our story.

In 2005, we received a phone call from a local pregnancy center about needing a family for a special needs 10 month old boy who would be placed privately. He had kidney failure as well as crossed eyes and severe developmental delay. He was like a newborn. We prayed about it and felt God's leading. Within two weeks, we had our home study done and were traveling 2 hours away to pick him up. The adoption laws in the state we live allow for the birth mother to change her mind within 3 days, if the child is over 6 months old. On the third day, we received a call from our attorney stating the unthinkable. She had changed her mind. This was a very tough place. My husband rose to the occasion and the next morning met our attorney and the birth mother at the train depot. They exchanged signatures for our precious Elisha that we had grown to love like our own. I am so grateful for my husband who used that opportunity to proclaim Jesus to Elisha's birth mom. Two weeks later we received a phone call from a deputy stating, "....there is an investigation into a little boy's death." Yes, Elisha had passed away in her care. I struggled with anger and resentment to the Lord. But eventually, He helped me to see that my sweet baby is with him and better off than the life he would have had. He also worked on my heart dealing with the idols that had formed in my own life.

The good news is that having Elisha in our home opened our hearts up to adoption again. In September 2005 a little girl was born and two years later she would become ours. Hannah was placed in our home after two years of foster care.  She was a crack baby with lots of hurting places. But thankful we have been granted to raise her.

Adoption is a beautiful thing, but it is also messy. Our boys hit the teen years with rejection and identity issues surfacing. Anger became out of control. We chose for our oldest to attend a Christian boarding school for a few years to protect him from himself. These were so very difficult years. The ache that happened in ourselves but most of all him was so painful. 

Hannah struggles with severe ADHD and outbursts of anger. Parenting adopted children brings a whole new set of issues. There is so much hurting and open wounds that seem to take years to work through...really until adulthood.

We have come to know the daily struggles that come along side raising adopted children. It can be a lonely place, where others don't understand. We have faced judgment on our parenting as well as struggled with fear of man...."what do people think?", which we still fight daily. So many times, adoption is viewed through rose colored glasses. It is so messy at times, but adoption is the brightest light we can shine that exemplifies the Gospel, for isn't that the picture Christ gives about our relationship with Him? Our parenting of these special kids has been greatly affected by grace. For how often do we spurn God's grace and parenting of us? How often do we choose defiance and rebellion? Yet, He keeps pursuing us. He keeps showering us with His love. He never lets go or gives us back up.

The Grit of Adoption: Warfare

As "Mr. Carwright" and I have been proceeding through this book on adoption, we are faced with the reality that we know deep down in our hearts, but one that is difficult to remember in the day to day struggles.

The author, Brian Borgman, does such an outstanding job reminding us of many aspects of adoption, as he retells his and his wife's own journey. He reminds us this job is not fulfilling our own needs, but one of ministry. That's the grace of adoption. Then bam!

We are faced with the deepest part: the grit of adoption. Spiritual warfare.

Many of you know our story, how we've struggled through some very tumultuous years with our loves. Our little lambs have grown through some of those struggles, and we know this warfare first hand.

Mr. Borgman says, "...adoption is war, but adoptive parents must remember that, despite how it sometimes feels, this war is never with the child....Let yourself get entangled in whatever real or perceived misery you might experience because you adopted, and you can lose perspective. There is so much at stake here. Self-pity and resentment toward your child for your present challenges will turn you inward - the quickest way to lose ground in your battle."
            "Satan does not believe in the sanctity of life, the sanctity of marriage, or the beauty of family. He will use your adoptive struggles to wage war on your marriage, on your family, and on your faith. He is a murderer and the father of lies."

Daily we must fight friends. Daily we must put on our armor and lean on Christ to help us fight. This is much bigger than just saving your child physically. Cry out to him for help! He will come and fight with you.

Calling All Adoptive Parents....

There is a new resource that we have been told about. We have purchased it and now are reading through it together.

In the next few days and weeks, I will be "journaling" here, about this book. "Mr. Cartwright" and I are just in the first chapter, and had to stop for our eyes were overflowing with tears.

*Tears of identification
*Tears of joy...someone really understands and has wrote these thoughts down to help others.
*Tears of hurt.
*Tears of wonder of all that God has done.

Our family has been on this journey for many years, almost 18. We are coming out the other side (although it seems we are in a hexagon at times...which side are we coming out?) with our oldest crew, but our littlest, who is now 9, is really struggling. Each day holds pain for her and unknown for me. As I strive to take each, "out of the box" quality and action she exhibits, I give them to the Lord, but I also, see my actions in turn being changed and molded.

So, today, while reading this brought us to our knees....

"God reminds us that __________ is a Puebla by sovereign appointment."

Yes, God's hand placed them each here at a specific time with specific needs that we are to guide them through.

So, no matter who thinks what, we know we're doing what is best for ours

"Tied at the Feet"

"Inger", "Marie", and I have been reading through the biography of Amy Carmichael, one of my favorite missionary stories. She was a single woman who believed in God to provide her every need as she led the "Starry Cluster", an evangelistic endeavor in India, and then opened her home to be "Amma" for many orphaned girls. She left her home in Bristol, England, in her mid twenties and never stepped foot there again.

Today as we read our chapter, Tied at the Feet, I was challenged in my view of motherhood. In India when a woman becomes a mother, she is said to be tied at the feet. This phrase can conjure up an image of increasing burden, yet, Amy chose to embrace it as a gift. So I ask myself, "Do I?"

My morning today was one of conflict with my littlest. Lots of privileges relinquished. Lots of defiance.  She struggles so much in school to embrace me as her teacher and I find myself questioning my involvement in this area. (Mostly out of frustration.) My patience was gone and I found myself responding in emotion and feeling intense burden....to be done with this. Thinking, how am I to get through this? It then brings up my sin, inadequacies and areas that need growth. And I'm tied. The knots are tight and I see the marks along my ankles. They even seem to be cutting off circulation. But I find it's my perspective.

After I took this to the Lord, He showed me the beautiful, pink (I choose this color because it's "Ingrid's" favorite) bow that wound itself gracefully at my feet. And I came to the conclusion that it is more like a two legged race. My feel being tied to my Saviors. Making sure I'm walking in sync with Him. Loving my munchkin' with only the love he can give.

I know all children deal with defiance to their parents, but being the mother of adopted children has a rejection dimension to it. Three out of our four children have struggled and strained CONTINUALLY against the parents God has given them. I don't handle that well and the only way to keep loving is to focus on my partner in this race. Hanging on to the Lord. Grabbing Him around the waist, and running this race with Him.

Amy did it without a husband because she had her Savior. She chose to be tied at the feet as she adopted these orphans and loved them through thick and thin of persecution, sickness and joy. What an example she has given to us.

A New Look

For 10 years, our kitchen here on the Ponderosa has been a pale yellow. Two weeks ago, "Mr. Cartwright" and I decided to be a little risky. 

Both of the boys were gone (or asleep) during this painting session.

When they saw our beautiful job, they pronounced, "We now officially live in a "black" house!" (No offense to those of you who are African American. My boys are too. They are always making these kind of comments.) (And while we are on this subject, my daughter has dubbed me the toasted marshmallow of the group due to my fun at the pool taking in the sun.)

I happen to love the color.

Special Gifts

Yesterday was one of the best Mother's Days I've ever had.

All six of us were together worshiping in church. My beautiful "Marie" followed her Savior in obedience and was baptized. What a precious gift.

My sweet littlest gave me a precious homemade card and wildflowers.

My Oldest gave me his very first card just signed by him and picked out for me. (He hand wrote a message too; not just signed by him.) He also gave me an apron...I guess he must like my job. :)

My "Little Joe" agreed to have his picture taken alone with me. And put his arm around me...Whoa!

 This is a feat in itself. You understand this if you have teenage boys.

And My lover gave me the most beautiful card in 20 years together. He also bought me and the girls place tickets to spend time with my sister in Tennessee this summer. It's been 6 years since I've been able to do this. We can't wait!