Thursday, 21 July 2016

He Calls me Mom.

Him: What did I call Ms. Cari when I lived with them?
Me: Mom
Him: What did I call the Strucks when I lived with them?
Me: Mom and Dad
Him: And, of course, I called Audrey mom when I lived with her.
Me: of course.
Him: WEIRD. That is SO weird, Mom!!!
Me: Not really, because they were acting like moms to you and you called them as much.
Him: But it would be so weird to call someone else mom now. 
You're my mom.
Me: *smiles, teary eyed*

These are the moments that I want to cling to as an adoptive mother. So many moments around here are hard and feel a bit lonely. If you knew how hard it is for a foster child who has had lived through multiple placements before being adopted, to look at me and really call me mother (as in NO ONE else is my mother), you would agree that this is no small miracle of the heart.  If you knew how hard is is for a mother to look at a son, not born of her womb, and to truly call him her son, you would nod and amen that this is no small miracle in her heart either.

It feels a little like the mountain in front of us is not Everest anymore...maybe just a daily walk up Sugarloaf. There was a time that I was sure he wouldn't see every birthday as a year older but a year closer to finding his "real parents." And I was ok with that. Most of the time anyway.

There will be days that he won't know where he belongs. There will be days where the last name that is now his, may not to seem to fit just right. There will be questions that we just cannot answer and feelings that we have not felt. We will have to see through his eyes. There will be hurt, and some anger. We will walk closely with him and all the others of the same last name as ours on their quest to find out who exactly they are and answer the question, "who am I?"

But no matter what I will forever be his mother. His mom. I am ever so humbled that, just like the children I have born of my womb, God, in is great grace granted my Love and I the privilege of calling him son. From the foundations of the earth, from the beginning of time he was ours. They all were. Amazing isn't it?

Amazing how God has given us three children with a completely different background, biological parents, genetics and made them ours. Their identity is not in what they used to be, what biological family they are from but who they are now. We are not being really nice folk that try to raise other people's children for awhile as a favor. No, they are ours. 


 What a beautiful testimony of the grace of God in our own lives. We do not have to be defined by who we used to be, but who he has made us to be through the Cross of Christ. 

I realize this is a lot easier to figure out in our heads than our hearts. It's a lot easier to say that we are seen by God as he sees his very own son, Jesus. But for me our walk as an adoptive family, is a walk in this truth: I am nothing in myself. I am only the daughter of the one true king. I can try to find my identity in other things: money, motherhood, other's opinions of me, being a good wife, writing, what car I drive, how many people I think I help, the "good" that I might do, how clean my house is etc. but nothing can satisfy the weighty question of who exactly I am, like my Jesus and being His daughter. Nothing can define me more than he has already done.

Come, he says, all you are weary and heavy laden 
and I will give you rest. (Matt. 11:28) 
Come, he says, and I will quench your thirst such that 
you will never thirst again. (John 4:14)

Saturday, 7 May 2016

It's Birth Mother's Day

Today I don't think that I have the heart space nor the time to adequately write about this adoptive mothering thing. Whole volumes of books have been written, so I won't offer advice. I'm typing here much like I do many times: knowing what I want to say and not knowing at the same time. I guess I just wanted today to remember the woman who birthed three of our children.

Foster care is a wretched beast. For us, it's one of those beasts that I'm glad we couldn't have possibly fully known until we jumped into it b/c I'm certain (yes 10000% certain) that we would never have considered it. It is crazy. Such wonderful people are doing their very best and the system is still just so flawed b/c well, we are a flawed people.

I say this not to dissuade any potential foster parents or those looking into it. I say it because I think many times birth parents are made out to be monsters. And many times that seems like the deserving title should be for them both. In reality though, they are people. Just like you and me. Yes, just like us in many ways. People with so much baggage that it wouldn't have fit on the Titanic. They are people that need help and to be held accountable for sure. And in no way do I want to minimize the trauma that the children will deal with the rest of their lives. I walk and love them through it. Daily. I know it. I live with it. It surrounds me in ways that I hate sometimes. I would never, ever minimize it.

There are these times, though, that I look at our three beautiful children and my heart aches for the loss that their first mom knows every single waking moment of her life. I just cannot even imagine. Yes, she knows and acknowledges that it is better for them here. She is thankful, even. But that doesn't make the hurt go away.  Every morning she wakes up with out the ones she carried in her womb nearest to her.

I had one of those times again today as I read the following quote:

"A child born to another woman calls me Mom. The magnitude of that tragedy and the depth of that privilege are not lost on me." ~ Jody Landers

Yes, such is the crushing magnitude here because sometimes, I forget what a blessing it is to be called mom by all 8 of them. Being a mom is hard. Being an adoptive mom is hard. And sometimes I forget that at the end of the day, no matter how it all unfolds... good, bad, ugly or all 3 ...that motherhood is such a blessing.


Tuesday, 2 February 2016

A Burden

Dearest Readers,

This post stems from a burden deep inside my soul. It is a burden for those of us who call ourselves sisters-in-Christ. For those of us that aknowledge that there is nothing in us that is really good even in our best efforts...that we need a Savior and have found one in the Lord Jesus. It is a burden that has been awakened recently through conversations that I've had with beautiful friends. All of whom come from different backgrounds but love the Lord and have been found in Him. Please keep this in mind as you read. My intention is always to encourage. Always. There are things about the Christian faith that can not be unwound from each other because if we do that then we have unwound it all and have nothing to call Christian. Those things, I do not wish to address here. Those foundational truths aren't up for debate. This, all of it that I have written, is something I struggle with and have for years. It is not something I am proud of and want to be free of. Lets just say I'm done. I am so over it. Done! And yet, it's still a struggle...and perhaps as you read you'll find yourself here with me too...

I know there is a lot to complain about when it comes to church. I mean really, people, if we could just get our act together and stop being so hypocritical people just might get saved. That's what I read and hear all the time anyway.

 Except, that we can't.

That's kinda the point isn't though isn't it? That we just can't get our act together. That we have this superb need inside our very selves that just can't do it all alone...a need that is so much greater than the act of going to church or trying to be good. Say it with me: We. Need. Jesus.

There's no hiding it. Oh, I know we try. We try and try and try. Just like the little engine that could. "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can," we say to ourselves as if we can just think ourselves out of that big hill in front of us. I know it's trendy to talk about how messy we are and how much we need Jesus. I'm not trendy (ask my friends) or hip or anything associated with cool (ask my kids). It's more than messiness. But messiness is not my point here (well, not in this post anyway.)

Here's my point: the church is made up of broken, hypocritical people (and if you're going to church and don't know you're broken you've got a big problem... only broken people need fixin'...just sayin'). I'm the first to raise my hand to agree to this. BUT and this is a huge BUT (thus the capitol letters) these people are beautiful because Jesus has taken these broken, desperate people and made them beautiful.

Like my friend Gab. who writes over at Dishes and Dreams. She's a wife (like me), a mom (like me), writer (like me), Jesus lover (like me), struggler (like me) and sends her kids to public school (not so much like me). And I love her for it.

And here is why: she is a kindred spirit. She is my sister in Christ. She is my family. I look at her and I see someone who Christ bloodied himself on a cross for. I see a woman who wants, above else, to love Him with her whole heart. And I've known her all of 8 months. If nothing else we have Christ in common. As broken and messed up as church can be, there is an unseen beauty here. Can you see it?

Many days I miss that.

I don't see a soul who Jesus died for. I see someone to put myself up against and to compare myself to. I don't see that she is "fearfully and wonderfully made." And then my faith becomes about what I think others are doing or not doing and what I "should" be doing in light of what others are doing or not doing. And I go around shoulding (yes, shoulding it's a new word my friend Louise made up for just this reason...add it to your vocabulary and don't do it to yourself, please) all over myself and forgetting Jesus in the process.

And then there pride right? The kind that assumes that if I'm doing well because I'm doing all the "right" things the "right" way and if everyone (especially that woman in the checkout with the screaming kid) would just do what I am doing then all would be right in the world.

Ok right about now I feel I must include a disclaimer...again. Ya'll know where I stand or at least if you've read anything round these here parts, I think I've made it clear. There are things that are black and white. There are things central to the Gospel message that cannot and should never be cast aside for the sake of post modernism's favorite quotes: "well, whatever works for you is best for you." That's not what I'm talking about here. I'm talking about things like: cloth diapering, using essential oils, gluten free eating, clean eating, shopping at Wal-Mart, feeding your kids things that have dye in it, bedtimes (like when you put your kids to bed and where they sleep), playing sports and how much time to put into these activities, public school or homeschool (yup, I said it), how clean my house is, how much time do my kids watch TV or do we even have at TV, can a mom work, if a mom works should she work only from home....seriously, the list could go on...and on....and on...and on but I won't do that to you b/c I KNOW you have your own list.

This list of things that you're passionate about. These things that the Lord has lead you to. You have taken the steps and the Lord has directed your path toward. And in no way do I mean to diminish the important value in some of the things on my list. Certainly, they are valuable things (well, mostly) to be talked about and above all, prayed over between you and your husband and/or church family. I know you are like me, doing your best to "work out your own salvation" as Christ works in you. I love that word own used in Phil. 2:12 by the way. Own, as in yours...not any one else's. Like leave theirs alone and work out your own!

Anywhoo, these things, like the things on my list are important to us as well they should be, but they should never hinder us from seeing the person on the other side. We miss out on so much when we miss the person behind the position.  Because here's the thing: I would have missed Gab 7 years ago. I would have disagreed politely with her (in my mind) and her huband's decision to put their kiddos in public school and probably done my best not to get into a deep friendship with her. Not because of anything she had done but because I so wanted to be validated in all of my decisions in my life (hello, Facebook but that's a whole nother post). I didn't want to be challenged. I would have missed a kindred spirit. I would have also been easily offended at her most recent post on her sweet blog which is not at all offensive.

I know, I know, you might be thinking, "Goodness, kari should we all just hold hands and sing Kumbya?!" NO! That's not the point here. The point is grace. Grace, Grace God's grace...The point is that all of us have got to stop this craziness (I'm including myself in us here.) It is stealing our joy, leading us to despair or puffing us up in our pride. I realize there are going to be people we look up to...that we admire. Gab is one of those people for me. However, there is no cookie-cutter believer out there. No one-size-fits-all. Our lives will look similar in many ways but because God is so amazing, He didn't intend for us to be working out  all out the same way. Amen? Amen!

So go ahead and stick to your positions but remember the person. Chew over and be challenged by what Gab has to say over at Dishes and Dreams, but mostly seek the face of Jesus and lay your decisions that impact your life and dear ones at His feet, as you come to him begging for wisdom as if it is the gold you desperately need to survive another day. At the end of the day, that's what matters most anyway right?!

PS the lack of photos is depressing me too. just go check out Gab and her lovely photos and maybe pray that I'll dust off my DSLR and get around to taking some "real" ones sooner rather than later.

Saturday, 2 January 2016

A Birthday, Christmas and an Opportunity

I've got a son once 10, now 11. I know it seems silly to say once 10, but I can't get over how time just seems to sprint past while I'm trying to run the marathon that is called my life. I mean really! 11?!? A long time ago I asked him to stop growing up. I said pretty please. And I think that he actually would try, if he could because he just loves so much being a kid. And that makes my momma heart happy.

And then there was the blessed time of Christmas. At least we were on vacation and could slow down a bit and rest. It was an actual vacation for us. Thankfully, not the kind when you come home and feel like you need another vacation from the one you just had. Thanks to my mom and step-dad. They are some serious super-heros. I won't even mention the blizzard. And being snowed in for a day in a room the size of, well think of a very small room and then put 12 people in it (most of them under 5 ft.). And the suburban being covered totally.  All. Of. It. You've seen suburbans right? They're on the larger side of SUV's. Yes, covered with snow that Praise the Good Lord was pulled out by a very nice farmer/fireman/neighbor that just happened to be checking in.  Never have I EVER been so happy to see a tractor in my life. You should have seen me sprint to track him down in my mom's cute rain boots (because I couldn't fit my big-ol feet into her snow shoes). I think I may have just gone ahead and mentioned almost the whole story anyway, mostly because those two deserve a cape and a Christmas gift waaaaaay better than we got for them. Superheros, I tell ya! Also, just an FYI, if you get snow inside rain boots and it melts, you may spend a fair amount of time trying to wrangle them off like you would a python wrapped around your foot.


As I type, it's a New Year. Which means a lot of things, but mostly that I'm getting older and looking more and more like my momma. This year there is so much I want to do and be better at. Experience tells me, however, that growth usually comes over long periods of time not in just one year. Goals and planning are great as long as they not become our God and rule our lives with an iron fist. I would say of myself that I am kind of a "free-spirit, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-jeans" kinda gal. It makes life exciting...and fun...most of the time anyway. But in all honestly, as I grow older I worry more. And I don't like it. I don't want to worry more. I want to grow in grace.

That's what a New Year is isn't it? Heck, that's what a new day or a new 

moment is isn't it? An opportunity. An opportunity to grow in grace. I'll be here working it out here "with fear and trembling," fighting off the urge to worry about every. single. thing. Here's to a New Year with all it's new days and new moments. Here's to mercy every minute, friends!

Monday, 26 October 2015

And Then She Turned 13

I look at my littlest and wonder where it went. Time. It vanishes so quickly. A vapor, yes it's true. Time can be no friend of mine. My days are spent going and not slowing. Going and not slowing. We are in the middle of the "show" so to speak and our days are full. If I could go back and tell that young momma a thing or two I would tell her to enjoy the slow days. And to fill them up with laughter, hugs and messes. Don't worry so much about what it all looks like all the time or what others might think of you and just enjoy that baby girl. Fill it up and brimming over, not with things that others may be doing but things that you can enjoy doing together. And don't let her watch Sleeping Beauty (it gives her nightmares.) Lower your expectations, momma. She's little and learning and you can teach her with grace, not with just the fear of being punished. Fight for her heart!

Oh! But I can't. I cannot go back. If there was a do over button, I would push it. I really would. Not because I didn't enjoy the first time around, but because I want to fully enjoy it again. To breathe deep and laugh loud and long. I've joked that I pray often that my oldest would forget "a lot." Not because she was neglected or abused, but because I thought I knew what I was doing when really, I had no idea.

The difference now? I still don't really know. I just know, that I don't really know. You know?! I am fully aware (or at least mostly aware) of my need for Christ in my mothering. Even with one or two, a momma's job is H.A.R.D and we are in desperate need of the grace of God in our parenting. The grace that can only come through Jesus himself.

This isn't something that keeps me up at night. Many of you know my oldest, and are probably thinking, "What the heck, Kari...she is delightful, kind, caring and has a beautiful servant's heart." Yup! You're right about that. But all of that really is in spite of many shortcomings. Yes, I know, faithfulness...I want to be, but so many times I find myself lacking. So really, truly any results that are positive are the grace of Christ working through (and sometimes in-spite) of me as well as in her.

Our verse this year for school this year that I'm clinging to, yet again, comes from the short book of Philippians. It is about not looking back, but straining ahead, as if you are in the desperate race of your life and you have nothing left to give...the long, rocky road is hard to run on...but by the grace of God you or looking ahead to that forward call heavenward.

Awhile back, I quit reading many lovely blogs because I found myself comparing about, well everything. It seems that in the area of mothering, we do this all too well. I also feel that children and mothering can't ever be reduced to an equation that would equal good, God-fearing kids if we just would do ________ things. They are all (those kiddos) just too different for that. If you don't believe it try having 8 running around your house 24/7. They are each unique in their very own right and cannot be reduced to a desired outcome.

God has rescued me from the idea that I have to save my children. That if I mess up...then my kids will be messed up. I look at my beautiful 13 year old daughter and it's like he has given me another reason not to believe that lie because I have messed up. A lot. With them all.

I realize that many will read these words and shirk this idea because grace is a scary thing. Of course kids need stability, boundaries, faithful, God-fearing parents who are willing to discipline them when necessary. All of those attributes are necessary, of course! What I'm saying in no way negates any of that. But so much of mothering is not black and white: there are many grace-areas (as I so lovingly will call them...from now on) where we work out our OWN salvation with fear and trembling in this regard realizing that all children are made differently...and so are their mothers.

So here is to enjoying the next many years that we get to enjoy having this ever so sweet young lady around. I praise the Lord for his working in her heart and mine as we weave together this special relationship of mother and daughter. I find myself enjoying and loving her more with each year. Her desire to know what is true is evident and I see a discernment in her that is beyond most 13 year olds. I see growth in her relationships with her siblings and learning to love the unlovable. She is also learning to laugh more at herself. I love that. She is a joy...such a joy.

Friday, 11 September 2015

A Cupcake Kind of Friday

Some weeks deserve a cupcake kind of ending. Not because they are so great but because, "Yay! Praise the good Lord that we made it to Friday and this week is O-V-E-R" kind of cupcake. And so we did today. Ate cupcakes to finish our long week while celebrating some very smart kiddos reading through their Bible readers over the past year (holla!). But mostly, it's been one glorious battle this week and it's tempting to loose sight of things to be thankful for, things that get lost in the sometimes overwhelming neediness of smallish ones, appointments, various other exciting activities and schooling.

I was reminded today of that as I listened to the bell toll over the radio, remembering those who lost their lives on this very day inside (or just outside) the Twin Towers. And those rushed in to rescue; going inside when most were running out, knowing they would not, very probably, come out alive. They rushed in anyway. I just can't even. My heart was heavy about the unfolded week until I remembered that things could be worse. A lot worse.

So friends, join me today won't you in begging for grace.

Then eat a cupcake (a handful of chocolate chips will do) and be thankFULL. :)

One boy stuffed mouth...the other in process.

Thank you Father, for the gift of remembering even when my heart sometimes longs to forget. Thank you that your grace extends beyond the depths of the ocean and across the wide seas. Thank you that we are never alone when we trust in your own Son, Jesus. Thank you for doctors who are compassionate. And a husband who bends in service and for children who are learning to serve one another well. Thank you that there are people who are willing to rush into danger while everything inside tells them to run away. Thank you for our very freedom that we so often take for granted and the men and women that sacrifice much. Thank you for the courage and strength you give to your people. Thank you for friends who are so, very helpful. That you give us your Son and you also give us family in the church. Thank you for sunshine, hot days and for the rain.  It is easy to look around and only see darkness, but OH! to look look to you, Father, is to see beyond what is behold your glory and grace upon your redeemed people is an amazing thing and my heart is glad. in Jesus' name ~amen

Tuesday, 18 August 2015

It's Good to be 33!

He asks me if I feel old and I say nope. All these 33 years and really, that's quite young don't you think? Tired, I say. I feel tired a lot but not old. It's a heart heavy for my children, I say... that can weary my soul when I forget I am not the one who really saves them anyway. That no matter how faithful Christ helps me to be...they are their own little people with their own ever growing brains and hearts. And thinking that I have to fix it all...have an answer for everything, for every situation...yes, that makes me very tired friends and I forget to have enjoy them all.

  And so, I wake this morning on this very day that turns my age to 33 and see two handsome boys with silly smiles and a giggling little girl. One hands me a sheet of paper and says with a wry smile, "Happy birthday mom. What are we going to do today?" The temptation is there to just grind it out and make them do school since we've missed a couple days and I want to perform...them to perform to other's standards. I swallow hard and ask, "What do you want to do bud?" "Laser tag. I wanna go play laser tag again, Mom...the real place," is his hopeful answer.

Right there I have an idea. We all put our choices of what fun thing to do today in a hat, including this 33 year old Momma. All our hopes for that day in that brown hat with the deer from Michigan. They are all giggles, and silly grins. I ask that same boy if there will be tears if his isn't picked. He says no, probably because he is certain his hope will be chosen for that day. It's not. He holds the tears, but they brim. Disappointment centers and his attitude changes and it's hard to extend grace.

The rest of us, we get ready to go. We make sandwiches. I wait for an attitude adjustment. And pray that mine will adjust toward him...and ask him to change it too ask him to go pray in his room and come back down with a different one. Disappointment is hard isn't it?

 It's PB & Js and water bottles and chips and some soda for a special treat and we are off to the zoo. The bus is loaded. It's full with mostly happy, excited children. And the mostly unhappy boy helps this 33 year old Momma by remembering that I put my lost some where that I usually don't. His grin is back. It's better.

The day is hot and heavy with humidly, but fun is what is had. And despite impatient looks from adults who tend to forget that children are slow and sometimes cranky from being hot and having blisters from new crocks, it is full, overflowing with fun and so is my heart.

I see that tall girl standing next to me. It's a joy to be near her. She piggy backs kids and pushes the stroller all in stride, smile wide. "That was fun she says," quiet-happy on the way home. My heart almost bursts wide open. The growth I have seen in her is amazing. That boy carrying around the smallest so she can "see!" He is a wonder and a joy. Those three, the triplets we call them, all wide eyed over all the animals and wonder of it all. One boy happy go lucky about snakes and lizards and hippos and one big crock. And that kid with the blister, the one who can crank the loudest also smiles the biggest. He loves new, exciting adventures.

And that man that has worked so hard for all of us, my Love, he turns and says one night, "I know people don't get it and it's hard sometimes...well, a lot of times...but this life we have together...I wouldn't change it...any of it." "Neither would, I babe...Neither would I," is my happy answer.