Oh the Bliss!

Every now and then I catch a glimpse of him, the original Addison, in my Addison. Oh wait. Maybe you don't know how my Addison's name came to be? Maybe we've only known each other a few months, instead of a decade, and you think maybe I got her name from the character in Grey's Anatomy. (If you had to google Grey's Anatomy you are my new best friend.) No, she was not named after the former wife of "Dr. McDreamy". (Again, if you had to google that, I love you.) She was named after a different talent. A playwright. A director. A brilliant actor, yes. But not that Addison. I walked into his house at the invitation of a mutual friend for a Bible study. It was held there, I learned, so that he -Addison- didn't have to leave his home. The study leader asked a question and I answered it and Addison challenged me. We engaged in biblical banter for a few minutes until one one of us folded (I refuse to believe it was me, though I bet he woul...

Loooking down, I held my phone in one hand, texting freakishly fast with my thumb, and signaled "one second, hush!" with my other hand. Mom. --textingtextingtexting-holdinguponesecondfinger-textingtextingtexting-shhhhhhhh-textingtextingtexting-justasec-textingtextingtexting-- Moooooooooooooom. --textingtextingtexting-holdinguponesecondfinger-textingtextingtexting-shhhhhhhh-textingtextingtexting-justasec-textingtextingtexting-hangon-textingtextingtexting-SHHHH-- MOM! I raised my head and met his eyes, "Child, just a second, I am PRAYING!" "You're praying? It looks like you're texting. Why don't you call them?" Instantly I flashed back to decades ago when my own mother would pick up the landline (do you young people even know what a landline is??? It's a phone, with a cord attached to it, and... oh never mind ), she'd hold up the "one second, hush" finger at me, bow her head, close her eyes and pray with whomever...

A couple weekends ago my daughter was in our church's Christmas musical, she was the adorable one. :) Anyway... The first thing she (and every other child to grace a stage in the history of EVER) does when she walks out and takes her place is search. I could see her twinkling eyes squinting in the bright lights trying to find me in the crowd. In the herd of 7-12 year olds it took me all of 2 seconds to find her, but she couldn't see me, so I did what any loving parent would do and I waved like a maniac... no shame, people, no shame... but she never saw me. She sang all the songs, did all the motions and played her part beautifully, but every chance she got I could see her still looking. And the split seconds of disappointment when she really thought I wasn't there? I saw those too. So many people, so many lights, so many distractions, I was RIGHT THERE, but she just couldn't find me. Where WERE you?? She hugged my waist afterward. I was here... I saw the whole thing...

Your wife is awesome. AWE. SOME. She works really, really hard. She thinks about a thousand things per minute - and maybe she tells you about too many of them-  but for reals, she's amazing and you need to act on that. Thank her for working. Whether it's in the home, or away from the home, the lady works. My guess is if she's tired, she's legitimately tired because wearing a trillion hats everyday is tiring. You wear a trillion hats too, so lean into that with her, and thank her for working. She is trying... all the time... trying to be what you want, what her kids want, what her friends want, what the world wants... all the while scraping cobwebs off the person she wanted to be and fervently praying that she's the person GOD wants her to be. It's a lot, man, a lot. Recognize the efforts she goes to to be there for you and for the family. Or, maybe she doesn't put forth effort, maybe it's been years since you've felt like she's been there for...

I'm going to put your dolls away tonight. I'm going to put your dress up clothes away, too. I'll pick up your puzzle pieces from the unfinished puzzle. I'll grab a glob of Playdough and stick it to all the tiny bits you left on the floor. I'll wash off your paint brushes. I'll stack your blocks. I'll find your shoes and (Lord willing) match your socks. I'll check your grammar and print your papers. I'll scrape the mud out of your cleats and set your uniform out. I'll tape Bible verses to your mirror. I'll write notes in your lunch. I'll bite my lip and rub the back of my neck when that one song plays because it reminds me of when you were tiny. And I'll squeeze your hand in the checkout line when the woman in front of us fumbles with her phone for the eleventh time because her son was going to call at 5:30, and it's 5:37 and she's worried. Clearly the store has no reception. She looked at us, the lady in th...

One time I met a lady who was probably one of the coolest ladies I had ever met. She was hilarious, for one thing, and LOVED KIDS, so you know I was a fan right away. When we took Nico to church (Nico was our boy before Gabey...) she didn't bat an eye. She took him in and called him a Fitz and loved him like no other. After he went home with his bio-fam and I was D for DONE she didn't bat an eye at that either.  Certain I would never have another foster-child in our home, I was one day shy of throwing in the towel. No joke, I had lunch with a friend and confided that I would not be fostering again and THE VERY NEXT DAY we got the call for the Gabers (then Tristan), and -obviously- we said yes.  God is funny like that. Back to the lady at church... We took our tiny Gabey to church and this sweet lady didn't bat an eye. She scooped him up, called him a Fitz and loved him like no other. And then, one day, she told me she had been a mom who gave a child up for adoption...

"Can you sing to me?" I heard the words as I walked past the boys room, long after I had said goodnight.  "Mom? Can you sing me a few songs?" I leaned my head in... certian I hadn't heard him, the eldest of them all, asking me what I think he was asking me. "I heard you singing to Norah. Can you sing to me? You never sing to me anymore."  He's right. I haven't sung to him in months, possibly years.  I sing all the time around the house! We are known to carry on full length conversations in song, all of us, all the time! But Norah and Gabe, and frequently the older girls, they are the ones I really sing to these days. I thought of a thousands reasons why I shouldn't sing to him tonight, and I almost said no. I almost told him he should be asleep and I'd sing another time. But he would know, and so would I, that another time would never come. And then I pictured me, assuming the answer is no but asking anyw...

I've been trying to find words to write for Troy's birthday for a couple weeks now... they are failing me. I think because Troy is so complex, everything about him is deep, and intense, and complicated, yet so, so entirely sweet. Instead of trying so hard to make it sound the right way I'm just going to get it all down - for nostalgia's sake - and hope that A) I don't lose this website like I apparently did for the ENTIRE FIRST YEAR OF HIS LIFE and B) I can adequately describe my radical love for this boy. We went around the table this morning and affirmed Troy, telling him all the reasons we love him, what he means to us - something my token middle child shouldn't have to wait a year to hear. He soaked it up, his cheeks hurt from smiling, he felt loved and wanted and needed in our family! It was so clear to me that he doesn't always feel this way; the price of not being the oldest, or the youngest, or the only boy, or anything significant (by his standard...

 We let him use a stove, and an oven. You're welcome future wife of Ben. We also let him use a BBQ. You're welcome future roommates.  We let him ride his bike around the neighborhood.  And we let him ride to the donut store and the grocery store, which is across major streets... but we follow him in our car, because believe it or not we do have some limits. He starts fires, and climbs trees, and stands on roofs,  and whittles.        Surprisingly, brave is not a word that characterizes Ben. He's more determined than brave. He gets his mind set on something and (if Mark and I won't do it for him, because believe me he's asked) he figures out a way to do it on his own. I suppose that  is  a form of bravery, isn't it?  We are happy to have a kid that acts the way kids did 25, 30, 50 years ago. We know the world is a different place, we get it. We do our best to not set hi...

I was hanging out with a sweet first time mom and her baby girl not long ago, and if there is anything I love to do it is hang out with first time moms. I LOVE it!! I love it because, for an hour or two, I live vicariously through them and swoon with envy because there is nothing like your first baby . It is an insanely precious time, and as many kids as I have I will always look back at those first two years with Ben and hold them tightly because that time, when it's just you and the baby for hours and hours and hours each day, you never get that time again if you have more kids. Obviously I'm a fan of having more than one child, but, *insert huge sigh*, those only child days were priceless. They were also mind-blowingly terrifying. Because I knew nothing. Zilch. I had a rough idea of some things, but to actually apply them to a real live, breathing, moving, potentially  screaming  kid was a whole different story. Oh but when they're babies you get to love on ...

Man she'd love you. She'd get the biggest kick out of you! We all do, we think you're hilarious! Just tonight, we were sitting around the dinner table and you did something super funny and we all cracked up and you gave me this smile, oh brother it was to. die. for. And I thought to myself, man, she'd really love you. I think about her, your birth mom, every now and then. More now than then, truthfully. I think about what she's doing right now, if she's still living around here, if she's okay. Not long ago we were driving through the city where she was living last and I looked around at every single face I saw searching for hers. I bet one day you'll do that. I wonder if we'll both do that, forever? You're growing up really fast, lightening speed. THREE different people at church this weekend commented on how much you've grown. You're still really little to me, and I like that. :) Sometimes people will ask how it's going...

I'm not out to get you. I'm not here to make you miserable. I'm not here to make you feel oppressed, or small, and I don't look for ways to take the wind from your sails. I make roughly 8,000 decisions a day, give or take, and I only let you in on maybe 4 or 5 of them. From the time I wake up to the time I fall asleep (and sometimes even  while  I sleep) I am weighing options and considering every angle and praying for wisdom. I have never, ever thought to myself, "which option will tick you off the most?" and picked it, not once. And I never will.  I think about the time of day, what you've had to eat, how much sleep you've had, how many minutes you've spent in front of a screen, how many words on a page you've read, if you've been outside enough, if you've been outside too much, your helpfulness, your honesty, your interests, your influences, your influence , your heart. I think about who I know you to be, and who God is gro...

Last weekend my parents took the babies all day while the rest of us went to Disneyland, and when I came home that evening the EPIC amount of laundry that was spilling out of the laundry room had all been washed and folded. All of it. It was how I figured I'd be spending my Sunday, but instead I got to play in the pool with the kids and rest with the family. A few days ago my mother-in-law spent the night at our house and watched the younger four kids the next day so that I could go on a field trip with Ben and his class at school. I had SUCH a great time with him at the Creation Institute , I was so thankful to be there! Again, when I came home all of the laundry out of every room in the house had been washed and folded. All of it . I was gearing up to spend my afternoon and evening making trips to and from the laundry room, but it was done, and I was able to make dinner and rest with Mark that evening. Mark, my favorite person in the whole world, works very hard doin...

I'm not really a Gospel sharer... as hard as that is to admit. My husband is, he's incredible. The stories he can tell about the total strangers he has shared the Good News with and prayed with... he's like an undercover Billy Graham. (That might be a slight exaggeration, but he has a gift, that's for sure).  I, on the other hand, have no gift. I think it's because I kind of fall under the banner of "living my life so they see Jesus" which counts as sharing the gospel, no? No. Over the last few months I've felt this pressure, a burden if you will. Like this is it, you know? The earth isn't getting any younger.  Then the whole thing with the "blood moon" and then Easter and all of the sudden I am thinking WE ARE RUNNING OUT OF TIME CHRISTIANS! Let me go back a few years... We started going to this church where the pastor preached the Bible. I mean REALLY preached the Bible. Nothing fancy, no artistry, no fuzzy feelings, just the Wo...

I am acutely aware that our second go with foster care has gone incredibly smooth. We got an infant - everyone's dream. He has been extremely easy, always been a great sleeper and eater, has no residual effects from the 9 months he spent in his birth-mom's womb. He's happy,  healthy (though he's had more colds than I can count), follows directions and if all that weren't enough the boy's been pooping on the potty since he was 4 months old! So yeah, we'd be considered an ideal story, I'd say. But that doesn't mean the road has always been easy, for me especially. There are many times when I tiptoe toward (and completely fall over) the edge of frustration and annoyance , "why does he have to act this way, none of the other kids ever acted like this." , which leads to doubt, " Would I be this annoyed if one of my biological children were doing this?", which leads to guilt, " I can't believe I singled him out because he...

One Christmas decoration didn't make it into the attic this year. It's not even in the garage. I just couldn't bring myself to put it away. I needed it close. I needed to see it everyday, multiple times. I needed to be reminded that just because the season is over the reason is not. Jesus was born. He brought life, everlasting. Satisfaction. He brought light. Truth. He brought joy These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full.  John 15:11 and he didn't take it away. May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope . Romans 15:13 When December is over, and the world stops debating whether we can or cannot say "Christmas", or if Jesus really is the reason for the season, and all the lights come down and a pressing darkness threatens at every turn I must remember that Jesus never filled and then depleted. When we live ...

…when you're SEVEN!