One glorious week

The Good Doctor took Victor to Florida for a week. Some women like flowers (they die - the flowers, not the women) and some like jewelry (but there are children who need homes). I like alone time. So this was a good thing.

But then he brought Victor home.

He has been home less than 24 hours and this morning I've already  changed his underwear 5 times.

Poop 2
Pee 3
Cindy 0.

Nothing like a week of vacation to put you back to square one.

But let's look at the positive side.

I've completed (all but hand sewing the binding, which I can do with Victor in tow) 3 quilts; 1 picnic/throw blanket size and 2 baby quilts. I cleared all the mending off the sewing chair except for one shirt that was too far gone and a pair of pants that I still can't remember why they were there. And that was all in the first 3 days because after that there were men working in the basement and I would have been in their way (and they in mine). I cleaned out the laundry room and HopeAnne's room (the latter took 2 days). I've had daily uninterrupted time for devotions and Bible study preparation. I spent two wonderful days with my very mature 12 year old since she had those days off from school. We went to Color Me Mine, attended her parent/teacher conference, watched another food documentary (if that girl isn't a teacher some day, she is most likely going to be a nutritionist; she loves her food and nutrition documentaries!). I was able to finally schedule PT for a heel/tendon issue that has resurfaced since surgery corrected it in high school. And then I went to the Y to run and undo all that they had done (in my defense, they did not say that I couldn't run). In fact, I got to the Y a total of 4 days while they were gone; joining the retired folks making that trek around the track. That doesn't happen when Victor is home; he's not exactly YMCA childcare material. I think (but I lost count) I had chai every day except one and went to the same coffee shop three days in a row as I had lunch with 2 friends and coffee/chai with another. I took 2 different children to the orthodontist on 2 separate days and didn't have to entertain Victor in the waiting room. I set up and facilitated (with Eden in John's place) the first Victorious Hope Adoption Consulting training/support session. It was the perfect start to our almost-monthly meetings with an engaging and encouraging speaker who spoke on the topic of caring for the biological children in our homes when brining in kids from places of trauma. I picked up Shoun from swimming. Some days he was there on time. Some days he wasn't. And some days he put "practice" on the calendar but it was really a meet so I went to pick him up twice; one false alarm and once for realsies.

So after putting things into perspective, what's 5 pairs of soiled underwear when compared to all that?

Don't answer.

But on a lighter note, I did enjoy one more Victor-ism after a week without:

Me: Victor, I'm not very happy that you had another accident. I never said I wanted to have children so that I could clean poop off their butts. Not ever. This is not why I wanted to be a parent. Did you know that?

Victor (clearly not understanding the definition of a rhetorical question, very seriously answered): No, I did not.

Now he knows. We'll see if it makes a difference.

And the Good Doctor did obey my command to not set foot inside the front door until at least 4PM. He even took a detour through Washington, D.C. just to make sure that wouldn't happen. And when he arrived home at 3:55 PM, he told HopeAnne and Victor to play outside for 5 minutes. I let them in at 3:56. Close enough.

If I should speak

One day, when My Story (Big Daddy Weave) came on the radio, I said to Victor, "This is your song!" Now, whenever he hears the song he asks me, "Is this my song, Mommy?" Yes, yes, it is, Victor.

If I told you my story

You wold hear Hope that wouldn't let go

And if I told you my story

You would hear Love that never gave up

And if I told you my story

You would hear Life, but it wasn't mine

From a birth mom who loved you so dearly that she wouldn't give up on you even in the midst of an abusive relationship, without sufficient support to encourage her, and knowing that she just couldn't care for another child. She had hope for you. She had love for you.

To our family where we refuse to give up, no matter how difficult it gets. Who will always love you, whether or not you are able to consistently return that love.

And today, it was these words that stuck out to me:

If I should speak then let it be

Of the grace that is greater than all my sin

Of when justice was served and where mercy wins

Of the kindness of Jesus that draws me in

Oh to tell you my story is to tell of Him

This is my prayer for not just Victor but for every member of my family, for every friend of mine who calls Jesus their Lord and Savior. This is my prayer for myself. In a day when divisiveness and disparaging remarks are considered normal, may our speech, our lives, our actions reflect only grace, justice, mercy, kindness, and Jesus.

Psalm 19:14

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing to you, 

O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.

Birthday Charm

"Today your charm will have them singing like the birds."

This was the birthday boy's fortune at the Chinese buffet today. We decided to go out to celebrate since only half of us were home (don't judge - it's cheaper that way). He also only got half of his present. He has to wait til Dad comes home to get the other half. And to have his birthday dinner and dessert.

He came to join our team January 22, 2001 (not the 21st as the Good Doctor thought when he called him yesterday to wish him Happy Birthday).


Back in the day, before naked belly pictures and expensive newborn naked butt photo shoots, we used to send out birth announcements the stats: name, date, weight, length, parents, and siblings. Ours was a whole new bawl game. Creative, huh? (Honestly, we were running out of ideas.)

Well, he did and does have charm. Always has. Most likely always will.

Happy 16th Birthday, Isaac! May you hear lots of bird-like singing today!

One little word

I don't know who came up with the One Little Word thing. Probably someone who got tired of New Year's resolutions yet wanted something to commemorate the new year. So here we have it, the pressure to conform by choosing one little word as a theme or challenge or encouragement for the year. Every year I refuse to conform but then a word comes to me anyway so I might as well follow through.

It was actually back on December 18th, when our Sunday School teacher ended class by suggesting that we ask God this question: What do you want me to do for you in 2017? I scribbled the question down on the back of my bulletin and was about to pack up when the answer immediately came to me so I added it: Let my heart break for what breaks yours. Give me the strength to bear it. Remind me to allow You to bear the burden for me and with me.

And then I wrote one more thing because I knew what my word had to be for 2017: Break

I think I may have rolled my eyes at God.

Break? Really? Doesn't my heart break enough for the vulnerable and broken? Does it have to break more?

But I already knew the answer. And thankfully I know the One who will hold my heart just as He asks me to allow my heart to be broken even more.

“Soon we imagine, with God, this circle of compassion. 

Then we imagine no one standing outside of that circle, 

moving ourselves closer to the margins so that the margins themselves will be erased. 

We stand there with those whose dignity has been denied. 

We locate ourselves with the poor and the powerless and the voiceless. 

At the edges, we join the easily despised and the readily left out. 

We stand with the demonized so that the demonizing will stop. 

We situate ourselves right next to the disposable 

so that the day will come when we stop throwing people away.” -Father Greg Boyle

One of my friends, who is great at holding me accountable, waited until January 6 before wondering if I had fallen off the One Little Word wagon since there had been no mention of it.

I told her my word.

She asked if I was taking a break or planning to break toes?

Neither, I said, and promised a blog post. It was already in my head and my journal, but becoming difficult to organize and post.

Because I'm not sure I want this one little word (but that's probably the point, right?). Since December 18th, I've come to realize that break not only means breaking my heart even more for the brokenness around me but also to break old habits and sins that weigh me down and keep me from truly hearing from and experiencing God.

The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;

a broken and contrite heart,

O God you will not despise.

Psalm 52:17

I've been challenged recently by testimonies and stories of friends and strangers who have been able to successfully and totally surrender areas of their lives to Christ - areas of temptation and sin, and bad habits that weighed them down. I'm humbled by their commitment to changing themselves for Christ, rather than changing Christ to fit them. This is what I'm seeking this year as God works with me to break down the areas of my life that I have not surrendered to Him.

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, 

let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, 

and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us." Hebrews 12:14

God, help me to throw off that which hinders. Weights aren't necessarily wrong, they just aren't necessary!

And during a time of prayer, God spoke these words to me:
"Break. Together we'll break chains this year - yours and others. Give it time..."

He heals the brokenhearted, and binds up their wounds. Psalm 147:3

So here's to 2017 and the year of break - breaking my heart and my chains. And here's to healing and wholeness and freedom.

"It gets darker and darker, and then Jesus is born." Wendell Berry

Victor, Victor, Victor-isms

Victor: Mom, I pooped!
Me: Oh, great! Where?
Victor: In the restroom.
Me: Um, Victor, there is no poop in the potty. Where is your poop?
Victor: In my butt!
********************
Victor: Mom, what are you doing?
Me: Flossing.
Victor: You can't do that!
Me: Why?
Victor: Because that's what boys do.
********************
Victor: I want my microphone!
Mariana: I want you!
Victor: NO YOU DON'T! I'M NOT A TOY!
********************
Victor likes to be in charge. This is nothing new. Recently, however, he has taken it to a whole new level...
"I'm going to help you. Say 'okay'."
OR "Can I do that? Say 'sure'."

Andrew overheard this one day and decided to try it.
"Mom, I want you to buy me a new car. Say 'okay.'"

It didn't work for him, either.
********************
As we walked out of preschool, Victor asked, "What do you feel on your face?"
"It's snow," I replied.
"NO," my smartie-pants replied, "It's snowFLAKES!"
********************
When Victor is mad, he swears. At least, he would if he knew real swear words. But he just uses every word that we've asked him not to say and it comes out sounding a lot like swearing. Thankfully, he doesn't yet know any real swear words although his sister taught him to say fartsicle thinking it'd be funny and would keep him from yelling his swear words like stupid, hate, what da cwap, and what da heck (all thanks to big brothers and sisters) except that when he says fartsicle it doesn't quite sound like that. What a humiliating conversation that was at pretty school. So, since Victor is committed to noncompliance, we have realized that if we tell him that good words are bad words, and show no reaction to real bad words, he will say the good words (with fewer bad words thrown in). Here's how it works:

Victor: Eden, will you read this book to me?
Eden: I will read it one time. Period.
Victor (upset that she will only read it one time): Don't say period!
Eden (realizing her opportunity): Oh, you're right. That's a good idea. Period is a bad word, a really, really bad word. So don't ever say that.

And sure enough, this morning he was mad at me. "You stupid period!" he yelled, "PERIOD! QUESTION MARK! DOT DOT DOT!" Usually I don't worry about laughing when he does something like that because he can't see me anyway but I have to admit to having a lot of trouble keeping my laughter silent when he actually called me a dot dot dot and thought I'd be upset. (And to all you folks who have perfect children, I wouldn't normally be happy that my child yelled at me but if you had to live with a noncompliant, angry child who seems to enjoy hurting the people who love him, you'd be happy, too, that at least you didn't have bite marks or a black and blue mark this time or that he didn't hurt himself. At a certain point you have to stop sweating the small stuff, or at least re-evaluate the definition of small stuff. And I've been called worse than a question mark or dot dot dot before. I can handle it.)

And later,
Mariana: Victor, can you please stop jumping on the couch?
Victor: No! What the heck question mark! Period! Stupid period!

*Sigh* Just another day in the life...

The proposal-that-wasn't

Don't worry, it's not a photo of a house on fire. Not even close.

I know these photos don't look like much to you. But they do tell a story. And it's a good one. It even has a moral of which good old Solomon wrote.

It all started a few weeks before Christmas when a certain someone, (let's call him Solomon, in honor of the man who spoke in proverbs), Solomon, conspiratorially confided in his siblings that he had figured out a great plan, a plan involving a Christmas proposal. "It's foolproof," Solomon repeatedly told his siblings. "It makes perfect sense," he suggested to his unbelieving siblings, "Why else would (let's call this sibling Jeroboam, just because it too sounds Biblical) Jeroboam be bringing his girlfriend (we'll call her Miriam for the same reason), Miriam, to MomMom and PopPop's for Christmas? We all know Jeroboam loves MomMom and PopPop so much so of course he has chosen this time and this location to propose."

"It's foolproof," he stated, one last time.

That's all it took to plant some ideas in the heads of these siblings as well. And of course, it didn't take long for a little birdie (aka a sibling) to break her vow of silence and tell me what Solomon had so positively related to her and the other younger siblings. I texted Jeroboam, told him that I had just found out that he was proposing over Christmas and sarcastically berated him for not telling me first. He assured me that Solomon had no idea what he was talking about so I texted back, "Well then, let's make it happen. Just for Solomon." The text quickly came back, "YESSSS!"

And so, the proposal that wasn't a proposal was hatched. Solomon, it was determined, would be given the important job of photographer so he could be front and center when the proposal didnt really happen. The plan morphed and evolved and got better and better as siblings Aaron and Milcah were soon involved as well. Jeroboam was sure to tell Miriam that he would be proposing, but not really proposing and that her participation was, well, necessary to the plot. She agreed. He also met with her parents, not to ask their permission for her hand in marriage but for their participation in a fake proposal for which he did not need to ask their permission for anyone's hand. They agreed and on Christmas eve, Miriam's father leaned over to Solomon and whispered, "Get some great pictures, okay?"

Christmas day arrived and we enjoyed breakfast (minus the annual cinnamon buns, but you already know that story), church, lunch, gifts, and then a little downtime before Solomon was secretly told, "Phase 1," which meant that he was to grab the camera and a cellphone and head out to the special location (the clubhouse in my parents' community), hide himself, and get ready for some great photos. As soon as he was gone, Jeroboam gathered the rest of his siblings around, "So," he said, "I understand that Solomon has told you all that I'll be proposing to Miriam today..." Smiles all around, and no one seemed to notice that Miriam was also in the room for the secret announcement. "...Well, I'm not proposing ... but because Solomon is so sure that I am, we're going to stage it for him." Aaron is going to go along to record Solomon who thinks that Aaron is recording the proposal.

So, the threesome headed out and at some point Aaron separated from the group to join Solomon off to the side. He interviewed Solomon, even asking him for his words of wisdom for the soon-to-be happy couple. Soon enough Jeroboam and Miriam arrived at the planned location. If you look closely (a magnifying glass will help), you can see Miriam's back just behind the post in the second photo. Jeroboam got down on one knee and asked his question and just as planned, Miriam cried, threw the ring which was really just a dime, and ran away from Jeroboam. A few minutes passed and then Jeroboam dejectedly left after her.

Solomon's face in Aaron's video, at this point is priceless. He's confused. He looks at the spot which is now empty, then at Aaron, then back to the empty spot, and back at Aaron. "What just happened?" he asks, clearly baffled by this recent string of events. Aaron feigns similar confusion and at some point one of them suggests that they go in search of the ring. The search, which is also all caught on film is cut short due to darkness and cold but with Solomon's promise to come out and search again in the morning.

When Aaron and Solomon arrive back at the house, we asked Solomon where he had been, and he loyally responded (thinking he's still keeping his brother's secret), "Looking for something in the van." "For half an hour?" "Yeah," he says, although not as confidently this time.

But when Aaron comes around the corner smiling and Miriam shows up from behind a closed door, he knows something is going on even if he can't quite put his finger on it. "What just happened?" he asks again. As it's explained to him, he is congratulated for his loyalty to his brother and given a Taco Bell gift card for his troubles.

And who knows, maybe the same thing happened to the first Solomon and that is what prompted him to pen those now famous (and true) words, "Pride goeth before a fall." Except that I don't think good old Solomon even knew Olde English. But whatever. And aren't you glad you aren't a member of the King family where pranks run in the family (comes through my side, I'll admit).

Oh, and looking at the three (the only three) photos he got of the proposal-that-wasn't, I'm pretty sure he won't be asked to hold the camera for the real proposal for which Miriam insists Jeroboam needs to put as much time and effort into planning as he did planning for the fake one.

The table's smaller

*Sigh*

I took two boards out of the dining room table on Wednesday. One college student left on Monday, a second left today, and the third has just one day left.

My parents gave us the dining room table as a wedding gift. They took us to Lancaster County, right to the barn where the Amish men made buggies half of the year and tables the other half. The young, barefoot Amish boy met us and took us to the lower level of the barn where they had their sample tables and chairs. He asked how big I wanted my table to be. I said as big as I could get. My parents tried to talk me out of it. Why did I need a table that would seat 12 or so? Because. Just because.

I hope they're thankful now that they bought me the table with all the boards. In fact, we probably need a second one as we start to add significant others. But don't worry, I won't ask for a second. We wouldn't have room for it, anyway. Because for all those people who say, "Wow, you must really have a big house for all those kids," the honest answer is that no, we don't. Our house is probably smaller than yours. But we make it work. Some of us make it work with fewer complaints than others. Some with more. But I, for one, wouldn't want to clean a larger house. This one has enough cleaning, thank you.

Enough cleaning. But never enough kids.

Hopefully they'll be back.