Missing Daddy

Daddy left for two weeks. In a little over eight years of marriage, it's been his first trip away from home. I can't say I like it much.

Coming home from the airport, even the noise of the children didn't cover the deafening silence of his absence. The house felt strangely empty. Alone.

There's a cold spot in bed next to me. There's too much quiet in the evening after the kids go to sleep. There's no one to toss the little ones up in the air. And I'm really hoping I don't kill his fish that he so trustingly left in my care.

I began motherhood as a single mom, adopting two children before marrying him (see My Birthday Letter to Andie). It's just been a while since I've been alone for this much time. And phone calls do not replace having him here! Physically, I can manage everything I usually do at home. But, my heart feels like it's pumping at half the power.

It'll be good to have him back again.

The Least of These...

"On the street I saw a small girl, cold and shivering in a thin dress, with little hope of a decent meal. I became angry and said to God, 'Why did you permit this? Why don't you do something about it?' For a while God said nothing.

"That night God replied... 'I certainly did something about it...I made YOU.'" -- Adapted from Latin America's Casa Alianza, which cares for homeless children



"The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me." Matthew 25:40.

My Birthday Letter to Andie

Andie,

You are my first child, but the second oldest in the family. (Adoption can make a family funny that way.) You are my dream-come-true, but I was so nervous when the call came asking if I would take a two-year-old who bit and threw tantrums. I was a basket-case by the time they knocked on my door. What had I gotten myself into?

You were so tiny and vulnerable. The social worker put you down on my floor. Two plastic grocery bags contained all your earthly possessions -- diapers, a doll, and some clothes. After signing some papers, the social worker left. Just another day on the job for her. But for you and me, it was the first day of being a family.

You stood still beside the couch, quietly looking me over. My stomach was in knots. Did I know what I was doing raising a child by myself? I had signed up for foster care classes so confidently--all smiles. And now? Here you finally were in my house and I was at a complete loss. "What am I going to do with you?" I whispered as I sank to my knees in front of you. Your dark brown eyes looked intently into mine. Then, slowly, you walked over to me, put your arm around my neck, and hugged me. "Yes, that's right!" I smiled, holding you tight. "I'm going to love you!"

Suddenly everything was clear again. We would take one day at a time. God would lead and we would follow. You and me. That's how this family started. And that's how this family has grown.

One year later, Quinn joined us and became your nine-year-old big brother. You called him "Tin," and adored him. And then you fought with him. And then you adored him. And then ... well... you remember. :)

And then one day, you realized our happy little family was missing something very important. We had no daddy! So you took it upon yourself to pray a daddy into our family. For three years you prayed. Every morning and evening, at every meal, at every church function, during prayer request time at school, at every opportunity you asked God to give you a daddy. It became a little embarrassing for Quinn and me, but you were relentless!

And God answered your prayer. Eight years ago, Daddy and I got married. You were the flower girl and a happier flower girl there never was. When Daddy and I got into the car to head off for our honeymoon, you pranced out towards us wearing your dress and my veil. You told me you loved me and gave me a single white flower. You were no longer my little princess, you had become our little princess.

The years have flown by. Quinn is grown and on his own. We have three new girls in our family and who knows how many more to come. Today you turned sixteen. You are my helper, my friend, my daughter. You are an incredibly caring and loving young woman and I am so proud to be a part of your life. I'm looking forward to seeing what God will do in the next sixteen years of your life and beyond!

Hugs and kisses,

Mom

What Did You Hear?! What Did You Say?!

As I mentioned in a previous post, we attended the wedding of a former student of mine last Sunday. During the ceremony, the minister addressed the bride and groom several times using their first and last names. The bride's name, Rebecca Jordache, is Romanian and not pronounced as Americans would do it. Phonetically, it is pronounced YOR-A-DOCK-EE. Alyssa listened quietly as the minister continued preaching to the couple. Later, she asked me, "Why did the minister keep telling Rebecca she's a ducky?"

Her question threw me for a minute. I could not recall one instance in the entire ceremony when the minister had told the bride she was a "ducky." But, Alyssa was emphatic. She explained, "He kept saying 'Rebecca, you're a ducky! Rebecca, you're a ducky! And it wasn't nice. She looked so pretty!"

A week later, Maya gave us this gem.

My children and some of my nieces and nephews attend the same small school where I teach. The other day Maya asked me why her cousins had not yet arrived at school. I explained that they had a dentist appointment to go to and would be at school later. I went on to tell her that she and her sisters would soon be having dentist appointments as well. Armed with that information, she went running off to find her sisters. I overheard her saying, "The Petroviches (cousins) aren't here because they have a disappointment this morning. We're all going to have a disappointment soon too!"

Shared Hope International: "One Life at a Time"

I recently became aware of the work of "Shared Hope International" and felt I must share what they are doing. This video gives a brief summary.

Bedtime Stories

I grew up on Laura Ingalls Wilder books. Although hard, her life was busy and full of adventure. No one ever complained about being bored. Although these books are targeted for girls, there's enough adventure to pique a boy's interest as well!

A little while ago, a friend gave us some CDs from this series. Almost every night Alyssa and Nikki drift off to sleep listening to stories of Pa, Ma, Laura, Mary, Carrie, and their good, old bulldog Jack. In the morning, they update me on the Ingalls' most recent developments.

I highly recommend this series either in the book or CD form! The CDs include fiddle music performed by Paul Woodiel. Cherry Jones does a fantastic job of dramatizing the reading so that even Shawn and I sneak a listen every so often. These are stories your children will never forget and are well worth remembering!

Separation Anxiety

Next week Maya and I leave for Georgia. Andie and Billy will head to Oregon. Shawn, Ally, and Nikki will remain at home. Next week I will be a wreck.

Statistics show that the majority of accidents occur rather near the premises of your own home. In spite of that comforting knowledge, I tend to fall apart a little at the thought of my family being separated. I begin to worry. Will the kids be okay? Will some terrible accident end their lives or injure them horribly? Andie and Billy are teenagers now. Nikki and Ally will be with Daddy. They should all be fine. "But," my mind agonizes, "there are big, bad people in this world and big, bad catastrophes that destroy hundreds of lives daily."

Strangely enough, the one person I'm not worried about is Maya. Why? She'll be with me. And with that thought, I have to suddenly rethink this whole separation anxiety thing. What is so special about being with me?! What can I do to save or protect Maya from harm's way that God cannot do for the rest of my family? Is He not capable of watching over my loved ones? Does He not ask me to trust Him in ALL things -- especially those closest to my heart?

When the dust settles after my battle with choosing to trust, I make the very conscious decision to gather up my worries and deposit them into the omnipotent hands of my Heavenly Father. He will take care of us all just fine ... without my help.

Handprints on My Heart

Everyone has a passion -- something that drives and gives them purpose in life. Some enjoy nothing more than curling up with a good book and slipping away into another life spelled out upon the pages before them. Others thrill to the adrenaline rush and heart-pounding excitement of excelling at an athletic competition. And still others seek to better the world by bravely exposing evil and changing things for the better.

My passion is kids. Over the years I have worked with hundreds of children -- either through teaching, volunteering, foster care, or as is the case for five very special kids, adoption. Seeing the world through their eyes, watching their lives unfold day by day, and guiding their development is my highest privilege. It is my joy. It is my heart.

Each child who has walked with me in my life's journey, either for a moment or a life time, has left something behind -- a little handprint on my heart.