So, what happened to homeschooling?

This summer has been a roller coaster ride of indecisiveness.  Confusion.  Soul-searching.  Heart break.  On my face before my Creator asking “why” and then remembering it is often not my place to ask.

 {Situations that I can’t share here that shook my faith and made my soul ache but at the same time brought my family closer together and provided us an even firmer foundation upon which to serve our Jesus}

Don’t get me wrong…there were good times, too!

 But, I have carried around a heaviness that I was finding hard to shake.   And, in the midst of that, we {my husband and I} were praying about whether or not to home school our boys this year.

We pray every year about what their educational journey will look like.  Usually, the answer is clear.  This year, it was muddled.

Just for general information, we Type A mama’s don’t handle “muddled” well.

My husband does well with cutting through the mud in muddled.  My motherly emotions tend to get in the way and the emotion that was muddying my waters was fear.

In God’s Word, He does not hesitate to tell us not to fear.  Yet, I don’t hesitate to let fear invade my thoughts and my heart, particularly when it comes to the balancing act of motherhood.

So do not fear, for I am with you {and your children}; do not be dismayed, for I am your God {and your children’s God and Father too}.  I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you in my righteous right hand {and there your children rest too}.  Isaiah 41:10

The italicized portion is obviously mine but it is how God spoke to me.  That no matter the decision of where to be schooled and how to be educated, God holds my children close to His heart and I have nothing to fear.

Raising teenagers these days is scary and downright overwhelming {especially when you work with teen moms and see some grim realities of our fallen world}.  As my boys head off to public school {the final decision the hubby and I came down to} again this year, my heart is at peace.

As for their spiritual education, that will continue at home.  And this mama is kicking that focus up a notch this year. You can NEVER be to close to the One who beckons you not to fear.

Modern Day Miracle

Who would have thought that a rickety roller coaster and a sweltering day at a cheesy quaint amusement park could bridge huge holes of the heart?

God.

Who would have thought that the day would be full of smiles and fun, rather than anxiety and angst?

God.

Who would have thought that racing go-karts together (see daddy way there in the back, ha!) would be freeing in so many ways?

God.

Who knew that this mama’s heart would behold {all} her children reunited on this side of heaven?

God.

Saturday was a very special day for our family.  It was the first time we had all been together, the five of us, in the same place at the same time in THREE years!

God gave me a gift that I had given up on a long time ago. 

And I have been unwrapping it ever since!

{If you haven’t been here long and this post confuses you, you can read some of the back story here and here.}

God sets the lonely in families…

Many of you know that orphans (and to me this is any child without parents- foster children or orphans in Ethiopia) have always been a passion of mine.

Now, reading Radical, has lit a fire under that passion once again. Reignited the passion of my heart in a way that can’t and won’t burn out.

 Yes, my hubby and I donate to Reece’s Rainbow and Compassion and many other agencies but we want to do more.  We need to do more.

I am spending a lot of time asking God how He would like us to proceed- what should we be doing to help.  Our help will take many different forms over the next few months but today I feel God wanting me to use this platform- my blog- to raise awareness.

The title of this blog post comes straight out of the Word:

A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in His holy dwelling.  God sets the lonely in families…Psalm 68: 5-6a

A blogging friend that I had the pleasure of meeting in February recently traveled to Africa with Compassion International.  The posts she wrote from their stirred my heart.  The photos were gripping.  And she was changed. 

There is a verse in Proverbs that says:

Don’t excuse yourself by saying, “Look, we didn’t know.”
      For God understands all hearts, and he sees you.
   He who guards your soul knows you knew.
      He will repay all people as their actions deserve. Proverbs 24:12

How about this version from another translation:

 Rescue the perishing;
   don’t hesitate to step in and help.
If you say, “Hey, that’s none of my business,”
   will that get you off the hook?
Someone is watching you closely, you know—
   Someone not impressed with weak excuses. (The Message)

Those verses pierce my heart.  Because I know it.  I see it. 

The commercials on TV that make me cringe and change the channel.

The blog posts from my friends who have heeded the call to care for the orphan through adoption or mission work.

I will not be able to stand before God and say “but I didn’t know”.  Because I do know.  We all know.

So, what are we called to do about it?

I can’t answer that for you. It is between you and God.  What I can say is that James 1:27 was not written for a select few.  It was written to all who read and believe in God’s Word.  And what He said is this:

Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this; to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.  James 1:27

The world has polluted us into believing that we aren’t responsible for the 147 million orphans around this world.  For the 26, 000 children that will die today from preventable, treatable conditions. WE ARE RESPONSIBLE!

As my family and I sort through what God wants us to do next, I’m not going to do nothing in the interim.  Wouldn’t the enemy just love that?  Get me riled up, let me feel passionate and then discover how overwhelming the need is and decide to do nothing?  No, that is not the way.  We are mighty warriors that serve the powerful God.  If this is what He sees as pure and faultless, isn’t it obvious that He will provide ways for us to make life better for these hurting people?

Kristen hosted an adoption link-up where families adopting could post their needs and we, as Christians, can help meet those needs.  Here are a few whose heart and creativity really touched me:

Adoption magnets

Custom Clothes

CD’s

Custom Art

Hope Suds

T-shirt (that I love!)

Signs of Faith

And there were more!  Those are just a few of the ways you can make a difference in an orphan’s life.

Then, in a very God ordained sort of way, I read this post from another blog I follow.  Today.  Yes, I don’t believe in coincidences either. 

What are we supposed to do?  I think the answer is actually quite simple.

Do something!

Adoption is forever…

I have never wanted to write this post.  It is very personal and private.  Some of it is not my story to tell so pardon me if I am vague in some areas.  But, this event, this ugly thing that has happened that has affected the world’s view of adoption needs to be corrected. 

Today is the day that we (adoptive parents everywhere) are speaking the truth about our adoption experiences (the good, the bad and the ugly) in the hopes that people everywhere understand that while adoption may not be easy it is FOREVER.

Here is my story:

As most of you know my oldest son is adopted (by me, he is my husband’s biological son).  I met Jason when he was about to turn three.  Having been through a lot in my own childhood I immediately recognized that Jason wasn’t growing up in a good environment.  He called me “mom” just because I was his daddy’s girlfriend.

The next time I saw him (a few months later) he was jumpy and afraid of the dark.  He wet the bed.  Lots of red flags.  He lived over 1000 miles away so keeping an eye on the situation proved difficult.

In 1997, when Jason was four we received a phone call in the middle of the night from a neighbor of his bio mom’s.  She had searched information for our number, only knowing my husband’s last name.  I won’t go into the details of that call here but the next day began our quest to get custody of Jason.  After almost two years, thousands of dollars in legal fees, thousands of miles back and forth from Iowa to West Virginia and two more years of abuse and neglect, we succeeded.  We were awarded full custody of Jason in March 1999.  After abuse and neglect continued during visitations between Jason and his bio mom, her parental rights were terminated and I adopted Jason as my own in September 2000.

When a child experiences bonding issues with their bio mom, are exposed to unmentionable abuse and neglect the scars run deep.  And those scars cause them to lash out.  Particularly to the person that represents the person that hurt them.  In this case- me.  Jason was hurt by his bio mom in so many ways and then I became his mom. 

I love Jason because he is part of my husband.  I love him because he is my son.  But I also love him because I understand.  I know what it is to be hurt by the person that is supposed to care for you more than anything.

So I took it.  Punches, kicks, hair pulling, bruises, name calling (so sad to me that he even knew those words).  I excused it, hid it and took it.

Because there were also hugs, kisses, special moments when it seemed he would be okay.  We did everything “right”- therapy, IEP’s and love, lots of love.  We learned how to restrain a child when he was raging, but even when he was eight and nine I wasn’t physically strong enough.  Only my husband could.  And he worked…a lot.

Jason didn’t just have a problem with authority at home.  It translated everywhere…school, church, public places.  We began to not be able to go anywhere as a family.  Mike would have to stay home with Jason and the other boys and I would go or vice versa.  We became isolated, lost friends and our family started to splinter.

He would run away from school, hit his teacher’s and hurt other students.  His anger was palpable and his hurt ran so deep.  The courts intervened in 2004.  Our eleven year old son had a probation officer.  If he messed up at school, hurt me or hurt his brothers he would be taken away.  Kind of setting him up to fail.

And in December 2004, Jason was taken from us.  He was deemed to be a danger to himself and others and placed in a residential facility for troubled children. 

I felt like the life had been sucked out of me.  We just wanted him to be okay.  His placement was 3 hours away from our home.  Our weekends became road trips.  Labels were given: conduct disorder, attachment disorder, PTSD.

In June of 2007 our lives were turned completely upside down. Jason was about to come home from residential treatment and the judge that had originally ordered him there had requested an evaluation by several different types of therapists before he would sign the final order.  One of those therapists was a juvenile sex offender treatment therapist. {Jason had displayed sexual acting out behaviors since he was very little}

The findings of her evaluation changed our lives forever.  Jason disclosed things that not only made the judge rule that Jason could not return home but that he could also have no contact with his brothers, our other children.

The judge ordered Jason to a sex offender treatment program (three hours from our home).  Jason was there for over a year.  It was like a prison.  All the kids wore the same clothes, same shoes, bars on the windows.  We could only visit him once a month and it had to be in a room with all the other kids visiting their loved ones and we could only hug him when we left.  It was the worst year of my life (and that is saying a lot considering the things I have been through)

Jason is not allowed to have any contact with Jared and Matthew  by court order.  It is heartbreaking to try to be a mom to brothers who are forbidden to see each other.  When Mike and I visit Jason on the weekends (he is closer now so we get to see him weekly) we have to leave Jared and Matt behind. When we talk to him on the phone we have to go in another room. Family holidays, birthdays- it has just thrown our whole family a curveball we could have never expected. 

We get through, by the grace of God.  We are defining what family looks like when we can’t all be under the same roof.  Jason is doing well at his boarding school and is even getting his permit and a job this summer.  But, his life has not been easy.  He struggles under the constant weight of his early childhood.

If you have stuck with this post so far, you should know that I would never abandon Jason. And it is not because he is related to my husband by blood.

 No matter what happened, he is my son. I made that choice from the day we began the custody process and stood before a judge and agreed to be his mama as if I had given birth to him myself.

And, although our road has been far from what I envisioned it to be eleven years ago, I consider it a privilege to be his mama.

Every placement that Jason has had, every counselor, every social worker has commented on my commitment to him.  How many people have walked away (from children they gave birth to) over much less.  When you know what it means to be abandoned it strengthens your resolve to never let a child you know feel that way again.

Adoption is God’s plan. Period. End of story.  What if God decided that we were too much?  Too sinful?  Too violent?  Made too many mistakes?  How many of us would be worthy of salvation?  Of Him being our Heavenly Father?

Not.one.of.us. 

Thank God adoption is forever!

(I am sorry for the length of this post but I had to share my heart on this.  While I have been as vague as possible I would ask that if you know my family in person you not discuss the details in this post with my children.  It is obviously a very sensitive and difficult situation for our family.)

He’s My Son

Chubby little fingers find their way into my hand.

His (almost) three year old little self pulls me energetically towards the kittens down the hall… “Tome on mommy, let’s go look at the kitties” (except he said his hard c’s and k’s like t’s so you can imagine how comical that was).  The fact that he is calling me mommy just a few days after we met is not lost on me and I feel the weight of what that could mean with each step down the hall.

He’s my son.

(Almost) three years later we sit in the back of the car together.  He again slides his hand into mine as we drive away from his old life and toward a new life in our home.  He is stoic, already jaded by his experiences and the disappointments life can present.  He doesn’t cry. He doesn’t ask why.  He just holds my hand and doesn’t look back.

He’s my son.

(almost) Three years later he struggles to integrate into a “normal” family.  Life is full of extremes.  One minute enjoying the warmth of his mama’s lap while she reads Captain Underpants, the next striking out in anger because he didn’t like the way his eggs were cooked.  One day winning the county art award for his drawing of outer space, aptly entitled “I’d Rather Be Dreaming”, the next hiding under his bed and screaming like a caged animal at the thought of going to school.  One day having a sleep over birthday party with his friends and eating ice cream cake that turned his teeth black, the next being admitted to the psychiatric hospital (again) for being unable to control his anger and hurting his brothers and I. The adoption becomes final and it’s official…

He’s my son.

(almost) three years later and he lives in a “therapeutic” setting.  His behavior controlled for the most part, after years of therapy and learning the skills he didn’t learn at those critical years between 1 and 5.  One day he tries to do his best, the next he feels hopeless and wonders why he should bother.  He wishes he could come home, so do I.  He grows tall and handsome like his daddy.  He just may be okay.

He’s my son.

“Come on, mom.  I want to show you something”.  Now taller than me, he still longs to please me.  He opens a book, full of drawings of wild cats.  “I think I know what I want to do when I get out of here” (otherwise known as graduate).  He has hopes, he has dreams.  He has potential.  And, despite all that has transpired in the last 14 years…

He’s my son.

And I love him.  I’m proud of him. If I could take away his struggles I would.  If I could bear his burden myself I would.  If I could change what happened to him and what he did to us I would.  Gladly.  Happily.  Knowing that my boy would be okay.

He is seventeen today.  Almost a full grown man.  And still…you guessed it, my son.  This video says it better than I ever could.  And, is perfect for Holy Week.  Thinking of what another mother must have been feeling two thousand years ago.

Happy Birthday, Jason!  I love you!

Reece’s Rainbow

I have always had a heart for children.  Children without loving families.  Children with special needs.

When I first started blogging I discovered the website, Reece’s Rainbow.  This is a ministry serving the needs of children around the world with Down Syndrome and other special needs, helping them find their forever families.  While it was not in the cards for my husband and I to adopt any of these special kids (my heart for our family is foster care) I will never tire of raising awareness of this special ministry.

On March 21, 2010 (to honor the 3rd copy of the 21st chromosome presented in Down syndrome), the world comes together to raise awareness and advocate for people living with Down syndrome.

Because Reece’s Rainbow has an international focus, we are doing our part to further the recognition of this very special day!

Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress…

Every Other Sunday

Every other Sunday I see….his deep dark eyes, so much like his daddy.  His curly hair that he has obviously put tremendous effort {and hair gel} into staying in position.  I look up to him now.  This mama’s head coming to his chin, the chin that he leaves stray hairs grow on so that people will know he has the ability to grow hair on his chin.  I see a young man, leaving behind the remembrances of boyhood, much like a snake shedding it’s skin.  I see his face frown and his forehead wrinkle when he realizes our time together is over.  I see that same face beam when his dad mentions his upcoming driving lesson.

Every other Sunday I hear…his sometimes deep, sometimes crackling voice tell me about what he has been doing.  I hear animation and excitement when he talks about photography and the future.  His words are articulate and mature, his topics not as much.  I hear regret and resignation when he speaks of the past.  I hear his need to be more independent tempered by his need for structure.  I hear the little boy of yesterday, tugging on my pant legs as this not so little boy says “Mama, did I tell you about xyz?”.  I hear his need for attention and reassurance that he is loved, NO MATTER WHAT.  I hear his tentativeness when he asks how his brothers are doing.

Every other Sunday I smell…that mix of sweat, hair gel, deodorant and toothpaste that only comes from adolescent boys.  It is an odor barely veiled by the extravagant use of cheap cologne.  I smell a boy, trying to be a man…figuring out what attracts others to him and what is offensive.  I smell fabric softener, different from the scent I use at home and it serves as just another reminder that home is where he does not reside.

Every other Sunday I touch…his soft hands, not worn by work or affected by weather.  The hands of an artist.  I touch his sticky hair and put my hand on the small of his back.  I allow myself to squeeze him in, as if I wish I could just envelope him inside me, away from the cares and hurts of the world, during a brief hug.  Sometimes I find my hand cupping his cheek, wanting to count the freckles {or angel kisses} like we used to do when he was little.

Every other Sunday I feel…a compulsion to pretend like the last five years haven’t happened. I feel the desire to take him and run away so that we can be all together as a family again, even though I know that cannot {and should not} be. I feel angry that he did not come to live with us sooner.  I feel protective like a mother bear for her cubs. I feel frustrated that this is how our life has to be.  I feel helpless and sometimes hopeless.

And, then I remember that at least I have every other Sunday to see, to hear, to smell, to touch and to feel what it is to be Jason’s mama.  And I thank God for every other Sunday.

Suffer the little children…

As most of you know I have a passion for parentless children.  Whether that be orphans in Haiti or foster children here in the United States, I believe in the promise of Psalm 68:6 where the Bible says:

God sets the lonely in families…

I love that verse.  If you want to be further inspired about this important topic, my friend Kim is guest posting on @RealLifeSarah’s blog.  You can read her touching story here.

Then read below to see how you can get more information about an organization that finds forever families for children that need them.

Last year AdoptUsKids hosted two adoption chats on Twitter.  As a result, some Twitter users actually made the decision to move forward with the adoption process.

If you missed our earlier events, please join us for a live Twitter party later this month, sponsored by AdoptUsKids. AdoptUsKids is a national project whose role is to recruit and connect foster and adoptive families with waiting children throughout the United States.

Funded by the Children’s Bureau of the Administration for Children and Families, AdoptUsKids hosts a national photo listing website contains photos and information about children in foster care waiting for families to adopt them. You may have seen some of the Public Service Announcements with the message “You don’t have to be perfect to be a perfect parent.”

Each year the campaign has a specialized target, based on the needs of children in care.  This year’s focus is finding homes for African-American children in care, who make up 31% of the children waiting to be adopted. African-American children are overrepresented in the foster care population relative to their percentage in the U.S. general population. Because of this, African American children often wait longer to be adopted.

To learn more about adopting from foster care and how to help spread the word about children in care waiting for a forever family, please visit AdoptUsKids. To search for children in your area, visit the AdoptUsKids Child Search.

Please join us Tuesday, February 23rd from 2:00 to 3:00 p.m. EST on Twitter for a safe and open informational chat about the benefits of adoption, as well as adoption from foster care with representatives from AdoptUsKids.

To participate, please follow @AdoptUsKids and @resourcefulmom, and use the hashtag #AdoptUsKids. Facebook users may also wish to become a fan of AdoptUsKids on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/AdoptUsKids.

This campaign is brought to you by Global Influence Network.

What is this blog for anyway?

I arrived home from Blissdom with a heavy heart.

Mind you, I had a fabulous time (with a capital F) and learned a lot.

I also realized that I had strayed from my passions- the passions that led me to start this blog in the first place almost two years ago.  I have been working on shifting my focus back to sharing life from my heart with my readers.  (All my product reviews, giveaways, professional organizing advice, etc. will be on my professional organizing site starting March 1st.)

I blog about life.

Life as an adoptive mom of a child with severe emotional and behavioral issues, life as a mama of all boys, life as a mama of all tween/teen boys, life as a wife, life with multiple sclerosis and lupus, life as a former foster child, high school drop out turned teen mom who found Jesus and has never been the same since!

I blog about cutting through the clutter of life…the things that distract us from seeing and enjoying the life and purpose God has for us. When I speak at mom’s groups and women’s events, I usually am either sharing my testimony or sharing how to get control of your calendar, manage your time, set realistic goals and priorities and handle money the way God intended.

I’m glad you stopped by if you are here from Kelly’s Korner and invite you to read my About Me page and/or listen to my intro video to learn a little more about me and this here blog ‘o mine.

Of boys and learners permits

I’m not ready for this.

That is what I was thinking as I sat in my (bonus) son’s MDT (multi-disciplinary meeting) yesterday.  The collective decision (which I agree with, I just don’t like) was made that he can get his learner’s permit next month.

My boy is going to drive.  I’m not ready for this.

Let me clarify that he will not be driving in a car that has me as a passenger, observer or anything else.  I should probably be forced to stay indoors with a bottle of valium when I know he is on the road.

My hubby will be his instructor until driver’s ed begins in April.  My sole part of this process (other than taking him to the DMV for the written portion of the test) will be to worry my head off. But will worrying get me anywhere? No.

In addition to the fact that the five year old little boy that let me be his mama after his biological situation didn’t turn out so well is now taller than me, he is also old enough to get behind the wheel of a moving vehicle.

And that brings me to my knees.

LITERALLY.

TO MY KNEES.

Because the only one that can keep Jason safe on the road (and with his first job this summer) and with (God please help me) the appointment with the National Guard recruiter in the spring is my Heavenly Father.

The One who loves my dark haired, special boy more than even I do (which is difficult for this mama to fathom) is watching out for him.

Jason’s life has not been easy (and he hasn’t made it too easy on the rest of us either) so I am so glad that he is finally moving in a positive direction.  He is getting to be a “normal” kid- learner’s permit, first job and senior year plans included.

That he is even at this point is proof that God’s been watching out for him all along.

Jesus, take the wheel!

I’m getting ready to spend even more time on my knees in the coming weeks…right where every mama should be.

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