Already not yet

 If Advent is preparation for Christmas, what do you call preparation for Advent? This season of remembering that we live in the limbo of "already, but not yet" has never been more real than in the past few days.

Being allowed to participate in DJ's first birthday party,

enjoying the continuing excitement of the anticipation of another little one,

watching both Mariana and Isaac live out their life's story,

waiting for Andrew and Sarah's move to DC (and a whole lot closer to "home"),

and the heartbreak of witnessing Grandmom's stroke, difficulty in communication, yet clearly articulated desire to see her Heavenly Father. "I want to go home," she says again and again. "Can we sing about it?" I asked. "Yes, please do," was her reply. As we did, each song brought her peace from her agitation and she sang along. When we stopped, the requests began again, "I wanna go home...Father take me home...Just let me come over..." This is the reality of the "already, but not yet" that we live here on earth. Joy and sorrow. Pleasure and pain. All at once. Wanting to go home. Wanting to stay. Wanting loved ones to stay just a little bit longer. Come, Lord Jesus. He has come, but we wait with expectation for His second coming when all sorrow and sickness will be gone. Already, but not yet.

The Messiah has come. He fulfilled all of the Old Testament prophecies about the Messiah. Every December we decorate our homes, we sing carols, and we hear the stories repeated in church. We know He lives in our hearts and He changes our lives. But we also know that He has not yet come the second time as He promised. We eagerly await this second coming. As a member of the "Already Not Yet" Club, am I living in such a way as to represent the One who has come but who has not yet come again? Does my life represent His saving power as the fulfillment of His first coming? Do I live with the urgency of His second coming? May I be a light this coming Advent season, and at all times, to point others to membership in Jesus' Kingdom, the Kingdom of Already, Not Yet.

A little humble pie

Parent teacher conferences are a whole lot different than they used to be. We were recently reminiscing about the year I sat in front of Jesse's teacher and the first thing out of her mouth was, "Everybody loves Jesse." Those days are gone. Now parent-teacher conferences are a place to put all pride aside and eat some humble pie. It's funny, because the morning of this conference I was being interviewed by a college student working on a project connected to foster care. One of her questions was about my definition of success. I told her that my definition of success has definitely changed in my years parenting trauma kids. I no longer believe success involves glowing reports at conferences. It's no longer connected to what others think. My definition of success now is simply saying "yes" to God and knowing that that is success is His eyes. 

This year's parent-teacher conference involved conversations about defiance, unkind words, stealing, and a child who wants to be expelled (we don't even know how he knows what that is!) so that he can stay home. He's too smart for us. 

It also included the revelation that the detailed descriptions we had been given for about 2 weeks about a fidget trading club were all figments of his imagination, fabrications apparently used to persuade us to purchase some fidgets for "trading". We had even been told which day he "got the paper and signed up" because "now I have some fidgets to trade." 

The more you know...Now we know.

Be kind

I have often had parents ask how they can help their children relate better to Victor. The question also comes up with parents or educators wondering how to help children relate to peers with challenging trauma behaviors. My answer is always the same - it starts with the adults. The children who relate the best to Victor are also the ones whose parents take time to engage with him and who talk with their children about loving others. They model acceptance and care.

The opposite is also true. Parents, please watch what you say in front of your children. Watch how you act. It will come through loud and clear. 

Victor received this picture from a little friend at school. 

It says, "Dear Victor, my birthday is in 4 days. My mommy doesn't want you over."

I'm sure this mother has no idea what her child wrote. I'm sure she had no intention for her words to be shared with the object of their at-home conversation. But they were. 

Be careful. Your children are watching and listening. 

Be kind.

Last one

Last King birthday for October. As birthdays go for teachers, you can't beat a school that gives you a day off from students on your special day. Especially considering that last night was Trick or Treat night.

So enjoy your day off, Megan! We hope you feel very loved today and celebrated today. We appreciate all that you add to our family. Thank you for making us a priority for Family Nights.

And apparently we have not done a very good job of taking photos of the married folks this year. We'll have to do better next year!

Celebrating again

 Happy birthday, Jesse!

Even if you do bring trophy animal parts home to show me. Even if you name your deer according to Santa's reindeer.

I love you for who you are and the uniqueness that you bring to this family. I love your passion for life and for people and for teaching - online or in person.

I love you for the man of God you are and your commitment to Megan. 

I hope your day is great with no lunch room drama and plenty of Taco Bell.

Next birthday

I think you need to come home so we can get some new photos of you. But thanks for this response to my request for a first day of school photo, I at least have one fairly recent photo.

I hope you had a great day yesterday! We are glad you picked a date to be born that would be so close to fall break so we can celebrate. And with an extra treat this year (looking forward to meeting her!). 

I love you and am very proud of you. 

Birthday month begins

In her list of most memorable birthdays, this is bound to be at the top. So many new things to experience, new memories to be made, and new adventures to try.

Of course, being on a different time schedule means that Mom and Dad were some of the last to wish her happy birthday. Her host mom quipped that it was funny that her parents slept in on her birthday.

If only.

Enjoy what's left of your birthday. We thank God for you and are so proud of all you are.

Happy anniversary

As years go, I guess this was pretty typical. Some highs, some lows. But I am full of gratitude for you that you were both able to fulfill a dream of going to Japan together this year. 

Happy anniversary and best wishes for a year filled with joy and love. May you seek Him always and trust His path. May you always keep Him at the center of all you do.

You're almost there

"I threw in the towel. God threw it back and said, 'Wipe your face. You're almost there.'"

A friend posted this on her FB page today. It has no byline so I can't give credit where credit is due. I loved it because this has been so true in my life. So many times I've said, "I can't do this anymore." But after a chat with Jesus I'm ready for another day. Nothing really changes other than the reminder that I'm not alone and my God is in the business of carrying burdens that are just too big for us here on earth.

This was one of those weeks. It wasn't anything major, just all the minor things, the usual things: Parenting a child with special needs and trauma behaviors, along with working 2 part time jobs and the full time job of mommy-hood and holding down a home, and having a baby in the house again. 

Our youngest has a mask exemption in his IEP but a few weeks ago he was segregated in the classroom for not wearing a mask. He came home crying, "I had to sit on a carpet all by myself, Mommy. I told them to call you but they wouldn't call you." His heart was breaking and mine along with his. And then, as we tried to get to the bottom of it, to hear from the school exactly what their segregation policy was/is so we could make the best educational decision for him, the school nurse called, "He has a fever and a headache. That makes him a level 2-er so he needs to stay home for 10 days now." We thanked God for at least one blanket, assumed-positive-until-proven-healthy school policy. Since the fever and headache lasted only 24 hours, he had the time of his life. Until the school finally, after a week, informed us that he would no longer be segregated in the classroom. Thank you, Mr. Solicitor, I presume? We told him he'd be returning to school. He told us he didn't want to go.  We told him he's going. He said he's not...

He's going, but not happily. Every morning is a battle, every evening is a nightmare. He can't keep it together after barely, and not very successfully, keeping it together at school. He's not listening, not keeping up, not doing his work, not speaking kindly to teachers, not this, and not that. It came to a head Friday morning and I threw in the towel. 

It was a good cry as cries go. I guess. I'm not very good at emotions. Never have been. But this one kept coming. All day long. And then the Good Doctor threw away my unfinished chai. Never throw away my unfinished chai because I always finish my chai. It threatened to undo me. Until this little eight year old, who can hear emotions that he can't see, innocently said, "I hope you don't cry over your chai."

He was right. 

"Wipe your face. You're almost there." As a wise mentor of my husband's recently told me while holding the baby and giving me a break at church, "This isn't an easy life you and John have chosen. Let me help for this moment."

I love our community. God has chosen each and every one to carry a part of the burden with us. And on the toughest days, He picks up the heaviest side of the load, throws the towel back in my face and says, "You're almost there."

One step closer to home. One step closer to the day when there will be no more crying, no more tears, no more babies needing homes and substitute arms, no more chai dumped down the drain.

Let me introduce you to little Covid

 Well, I'm thinking that at this point, you pretty much have to name your first child Covid. 

Covid heavily influenced your wedding plans.

And caused a change in your honeymoon plans, including a continued postponement.

Then Covid was instrumental in a career change. 

And then popped in for a personal visit to celebrate your first anniversary. 

I'm sure you've grieved, but you are living your story well, every twist and turn.

But isn't that what makes a story great? Who wants a boring, cookie-cutter, you-know-what's-coming-next kind of story? I don't. And I don't think you do, either. 

(And apparently you need to be sending me more photos of the two of you because apparently, that's all I've got from the last year.)

Remember that time when...

It was January of 2020. The house was quiet.  The Good Doctor had taken the noisiest member to the beach for the long holiday weekend. I don't remember where the others were but I was alone. Did I mention that it was quiet? I was reading my Bible, praying, and spending time in silence, just listening.  All of a sudden I heard that still, small voice of the Holy Spirit, "It's time to get your master's degree."

You said WHAT???????? You do remember that I just turned 50, right? And that 20 years ago I was just 6 credits from a master's? But I didn't finish because I knew I wanted to raise a family and the advice of the day was to not have a master's degree if you were going to stop teaching for a few years to raise a small family (and we all know what happened to "few" and "small")? And that none, I mean, none, of those credits are going to transfer to a program 20 years down the road?

"It's time."

Why do I even bother arguing?

The tears just coursed down my face as the internal struggle continued.

Did I mention, God, that I'm too old? Higher education has come a long way from the 90s. I'll never figure this out. And why?

But how many times has God made sense in what He's asked of me?

When the Good Doctor returned home, I broke the news to him. Of course he was immediately supportive (there went that excuse).

How could I have known what God was really asking of me?

I registered. I got my books. I bought my index cards and highlighters.

My first day of school was just 3 days away. I knew that with the kids in school, I would have plenty of time to complete the work for the first two classes I had registered for.

And then the Governor closed all schools due to the Coronavirus. Their first day home? My first day of school.  Within the next week we went from a family of 5 with everyone but me gone each weekday to a family of 9 with 1 online professor, 1 working-from-home, and 7 in school from first grade to a master's student.  WHAT WAS I THINKING?

In the next month, not only did I have to figure out the technology of online education, learn to manage textbook readings, discussion boards, research papers, and tests but... the refrigerator broke (and the replacement didn't come for a week), the dishwasher broke (first world problems, I know), the car broke down, there was no toilet paper and no flour (we're a baking family, ya'll, and the stress eating was a must!) to be had anywhere, the Good Doctor left for a week to drive to Florida to be with his mother and took the most-helpful-with-Victor child with him, a half written research paper was lost to cyber space, all the people in the house created great messes which I didn't have time to clean, the first grader who was supposed to be in school all day everyday now needed to be homeschooled by moi...

The same first grader who melts down every day, multiple times a day. The same first grader who argues with every single thing you say. The same first grader who calls us vile names and screams horrible things at us. The same first grader that I chose not to homeschool for a reason...

Except that this wasn't even homeschooling. Homeschooling is where school is mandatory and home is the variable. This was schoolhoming - where home is mandatory and school is the variable.

I emailed the university; I need to quit. It wasn't supposed to be this way. I was supposed to have every day free to work. Now I had to beg and cajole half of the over-18 crowd to help watch Victor so I could study and read textbooks and write papers. Of course they weren't very interested in helping; they weren't supposed to be here, either. They would have preferred to be spending their semester on campus or in their own apartment, living free and independently where people waited on them hand and feet, not helping with dishes and meals and babysitting. They had their own studying, reading, writing, and working to do.

The stress was out to wazoo, people. I cried everyday.  I was discouraged and probably depressed.

But then, out of the blue, a phone call from someone who works with me in orphan ministry. She used to be a foster parent. She didn't know what had been going on. She just gets it. And she probably felt that little nudge from God, "Someone needs to talk Cindy down from the cliff."

"I'm just calling to say that I'm praying for you." She kept me going...

And then a week later, another foster care ministry that I volunteer in called to say they were bringing us a meal that week and next, and again for a month. Yeah, I cried again. Happy tears this time. Someone saw. Someone cared. I kept going...

And now it's over. What did you do during the pandemic?

We didn't get a puppy. We already had one. We didn't get a new baby. We have enough of them. We did a home renovation project but that was more Christmas gift than covid related.

What did I do? I finally got a piece of paper that says I'm now qualified to do that which I have been doing. For some people and groups, unfortunately, that was necessary. Twenty five years ago I almost had a master's, was two courses away, but then people told me that if I was going to resign from teaching to raise a family and I then wanted to get back into teaching, a master's would make me too expensive. So I stopped. Little did I know. But here we are and God spoke. I listened. I could argue that he had terrible timing but I know better. He has perfect timing. He brings people into our lives and he takes people out. Now I know who my real community is. Things may look very different than they did in January of 2020, but God is still on the throne and He is still good.

First day firsts

First day of third grade. First day of ninth grade. First day of only two kids going to school at the King household. 

Last time there were only two kids going to school, we had a second grader and a kindergartner and two still at home. We walked down Second St. and up the other side to get to the bus stop. The second grader was a rule follower. The kindergartner kept us on our toes.

So, in true King fashion, we do still have one at home. She's not a keeper, but will be with us for most of this school year. 

One of these two loves the little extra. One hates slobber and screaming which is a bit ironic considering that is how he spends most of his days. Sometimes he tells me he is starting to like her a little bit. One can hope for miracles, right?

The big 3-0

I think I'm going to start counting the years by anniversaries rather than birthdays. 30 sounds so much better than 51.

But here we are, after 30 years, and, well, that escalated quickly...

9 permanent kids

25+ foster and Safe Families kids

6 places of residence, including 1 apartment, 1 3-month stint house sitting, 1 trailer, 1 house of my dreams where I never wanted to leave, and the most recent of which we have been in for almost 18 years

3 dogs, 4 guinea pigs, 2 gerbils, many fish, several hermit crabs, and 1 snake that outlived all the rest

2 master's degrees, 1 almost-master's degree, 1 almost-there master's degree, and 1 doctorate

14 years traveling with The King's Strings which included the chance of a lifetime on a NYC stage with 3 judges, a wonderful audience, and 5 seconds of fame on National TV

Yup, that definitely escalated quickly.

Reunited again

We enjoyed our weekend with Andrew and Sarah. Other than a wedding in September, we had not seen them since Christmas of 2019. It was great to get this trip in before they head out to work at the Olympics in a few weeks. 

It ended up being the vacation of bridges. We met in Cincinnati and walked from there to Covington, KY and back.

Smale Park where Victor was too concerned about

the cicadas to really enjoy himself. After 30 minutes

to work himself up to go into the water (where every drop

on his head was assumed to be a cicada), he lasted about 15 minutes 

before he screamed bloody murder that there was a cicada 

on his shoulder. 

There wasn't.

Peacefully swinging and waiting for our Kentucky kids to arrive

The oldest and youngest reunited for the

first time in 9 months

We found what appears to be the oldest known

statue of a man taking a selfie.

Who knew they had cell phones when

this guy designed the bridge?

The siblings spent the night together watching Star Wars, of course. Not everyone made it til the end.

The next day we walked the bridge from Louisville, KY to Jeffersonville, IN and back.

A rare smile in the midst of thousands of

"There's nothing to doooooooooooo."

Another water park. For some reason, this time

he was not as aware of the cicadas and

certainly not as terrified.

The highlight for all (other than the company) was a visit to the Louisville Slugger Museum where they need to be commended not only for a top-notch museum and tour, but also for their accommodations for the visually impaired. We enjoyed our family's own private, hands-on tour.

One last dinner together, then breakfast in the morning, and we were off for home. A quick trip but a much-needed trip to see Andrew and Sarah. Have a great time in Japan!