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Never Enough

Foster care in a word is: humbling. Now that doesn't say a lot does it? I mean I could say that about a great many things couldn't I? Marriage. Parenting. Friendships. Working a job you don't really like. Having a friend you don't really like. This list is long and could go on. And there are these things in our lives that, perhaps, rib us a little more in the area of that great, smallish word: humility.   And as we walk this trodden path through foster care, I am constantly, and completely, being humbled. And it's hard. And messy. And sort of like nothing I've ever experienced before in my life.   And as I put my three year old to bed and he says, "hug n kiss mommy" I think what we mothers of children think often, "I am a terrible mother." Because do you know how many people have asked how in the world we can give our own children the attention they deserve with three more children in the

Oh, I need You

  I get off the phone with an acquaintance and they thank me for telling me that we are praying for them. That seriously we are praying for them. Daily.  And they say thank you....I NEED IT! My reply? Well, some of us walk around thinking that prayer is something for when your house is set on fire (literally and figuratively) and for others of us it is a ever present reality that we would not survive the next minute with out prayer.   But isn't it true? My very own words convict.  Oh, how I would learn to live what I speak. Grace upon grace and it is a slow process isn't it?   So here I am again. Taking up a challenge to read the Word, and memorise a little too. And though things are a little hectic, to think of another to bless...outside my immediate family. And to pray. A lot more.   This is not a list. NO, because I could merely whisper the words to "As the Deer" this morning in church, the weight heavy for not being as that deer. Ever

Overwhelmed

It has been a long while hasn't it dear friends? A forced sabbatical of sorts. More like me not really knowing how to manage time properly. Or perhaps it is the sheer thought of putting pen to paper or typing out what is really going on that is just so very overwhelming that really, the thought of it all gives me writers block.  Where to start? What to say? And does anyone really care. Thing is, I don't really know. Seriously, I don't know an answer to any of those questions. And maybe there are just parts of our life that I want to keep off of this blogosphere...or maybe not. Again, I just don't know. I keep thinking that it is going to come to me. That I will know exactly what to write and how to explain why in the world we would take in three foster children while having four of our own. My sister teases me by saying that I will turn out to be the old woman who lived in a shoe. If I believed in modern prophecy, I would call her a prophetess. No, I don't live

Just Me

I steal a few moments away by myself.  Alone.  Just me. So I drive down to the weekly farmer's market to buy some peaches and romaine lettuce. Yes, my mother would be proud.       The seagulls are screeching. The lake is glistening against the sun's radiance. I smile and stumble along, almost feeling out of place with out the 7 tag-a-longs. (I said almost )     Just me, thinking about how special this place is. And how Good the Lord is. How faithful He is to provide. And how really, I love it here.        

Too Long

It's been too long. Me sitting down to plunk away. I did twice last week, I mean. And now that I sit down for a time, while the house is quiet at the same time, I can't find what I wrote. I did save them, both of them I promise that I did, but now they're gone. Poof! Forever, they are in computer land, or wherever they go when you loose something via the Internet. And now? I got nothing.... So, instead of writing, I think I will share some of the last few weeks in pictures for you to enjoy. There is just so much to say...I just don't know where to begin. Remember, as always, God is good, faithful, kind and long suffering. There is always something to be thankful for.... Like the water table...        and the baby who LOVES it.       A boat ride with our sweet Grandmommy...       that helped me see this place we call home...from a different angle. Love that!       This man. And this boy.     These ladies. Tha

The Beauty

Often when I peek through my camera lens I am looking, searching for the beauty. Often times, it seems that for that kind of beauty, I have to look beyond what is right in front of my eyes...beyond what I am tempted to focus on. And sometimes that beauty is just a glimpse.   And right in front of my eyes. All at the same time.    And sometimes it's walking right in front of me: water bottle in hand, camera slung over her shoulder. Chatting with my girl. And if you don't get catch it, right then...you miss it. This beauty, she came and washed dishes, hugged grand kids, did 35 loads of laundry (at least), brought me coffee in the mornings, told my kids they are special, loved the ones that are called fostered like they were her own, let me borrow her husband for a couple of projects around the house, laughed hard and long, told me what I needed to hear and said, "you are doing well" as I wept before she left. For this beauty and for these I

One Year in 40 Seconds

I was watching this video on YouTube today as I was sampling one of Amanda Bennett's Download-N-Go Unit Studies. My kids love them. I love them. And I love that here is actually one thing in this world at we all love (ok maybe there is more like 3 things but that may be pushing it a little) b/c they are actually learning something that they love. So we are all feelin' the love so much  that we might pick out a couple in our spring-like summer up here in the UP to do together. And as I sat down to plunk away, still I was thinking about this video and how much like this wispy life feels like it is flying by....flying by just like what you see here (cept in the UP, well it would be confusing b/c half the video would be covered in wintry snow) And it is isn't it? That our lives are but a vaper and I am constantly trying to grab hold of something that I can't take hold of. Time keeps going and I keep grasping. I always thought this was so cleshe' and only somethi

Today

Today was that day. You know the one. The one where if there was a grading scale for parenting you would give yourself an F in mothering (or life in general.) And for those of you that are hollering at your computer, "Oh, Kari you're always too hard on yourself!" well, today that is just not true. Today, it just is the plain, ugly truth. And these days? We all have them don't we? There were many a time where I thought, "you know they are not going to be here forever...." and then just went on being an F parent. And here is the thing that I have found to be most true when this happens. My focus is myself. My focus is my circumstances. My focus is on what others are doing or not doing. My focus is on what others may think of me. My focus certainly is not Christ. And the brutal, honest truth is that today...this very day... I didn't want it to be. There must be a reason that many times, I find in the Word, (as I told my daughter today...again) that fa

She is Called Mother

Sometimes all you can do is open your hands, receive the gift....and say thank you. Sometimes thank you is all you have to give...and not even in the form of a card. Just a hug, a meagre smile and a thank you. A thank you to the friend that showed up weeks before the move. Told you what to organise where and when. And then showed up those weeks and packed like a maniac. And unloaded and unpacked and positioned couches and worked it all out lovely in her mind. Oh, and she's teaching you to garden. Oh, and she's homeschooling one...and teaching art too. But there she is helping you...still. She is called mother. And all you have is thank you. A thank you to the dear one who brought you meals the two days it took you to move in. And enough to eat later for left overs. She has been on her knees and prayed for you. She took your fire and ice boy for a night and kept the littlest one too though she had 3 at home too. She teaches with her life and

Motherhood and Slippery Fish

Describing motherhood is a bit like catching a slippery fish don't you think? I mean it's hard to get a hold of and certainly hard to describe in words that are adequate. It is a job that I always thought that I was fit for...that is until #1 made her grand entrance and well then it was soon after I realised that changing diapers and holding crying babies at my mom's daycare all those years didn't add up to wisdom. Preparation? Yes. Wisdom? Nope. And so as we celebrated our fourth turning three at the circus and all that entails, I realise that it is in the letting go of expectations (you know those silly ones we keep hidden in our hearts) that has helped this unprepared girl along the way. Babies cry. They don't sleep. Toddlers whine because they don't get the $15 light up toy. Big ones moan because they have to wait and well, "we NEVER get cotton candy!!"  And there was a day when I couldn't really enjoy being with them because they were no

Springish

Sitting here, sunshine glowing through the curtain, Wreck It Ralph playing in the background and trying not to freak out about all that needs to get done before move day. So things will be quiet a bit around here for awhile...maybe a few weeks even...but that's good....breaks are good. I do hope your celebration of our risen Lord was lovely. And as spring blows in soft breaths of fresh air (or the hope of spring if you're a Yooper!), dear friends, may the Light of the World shine hard-bright into your hearts, showing you His truth.       And of course this list that keeps. on. growing.:   852. a church family willing to always, always help 853. seeing God at work...and the face of people who are just blown. away. 854. celebrating a RISEN Savior 855. a pastor and his wife fixing, serving his flock breakfast 856. empty walls...full boxes 857. kind friends 858. excited for spring...having a hard time waiting....   One last thing. Just want to post th

This Easter Weekend: some thoughts about Jesus

Reading through the Bible is not for the faint of heart. This, a journey of a thousand miles in words no doubt. I think I've said this before. Yes, I'm pretty sure that I have. Then again, I do get to passages like this one in Isaiah 53 and I am reminded...again why I'm doing this. To know God. To know His heart. And to know what is exactly in the Bible though I might not understand every jot and tittle.  Here are some of the parts of Isaiah 53 verses 5-7. But He was [ h ] pierced through for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; The chastening for our [ i ] well-being fell upon Him, And by His scourging we are healed. 6 All of us like sheep have gone astray, Each of us has turned to his own way; But the Lord has caused the iniquity of us all To [ j ] fall on Him. 7 He was oppressed and He was afflicted, Yet He did not open His mouth; Like a lamb that is led to slaughter, And like a sheep that is silent before its shearers, So He did not open Hi

Washing Feet

    John 13: 4-6 so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. 5 After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him.       6 He came to Simon Peter, who said to h im, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?”   And just let me tell you, this girl, she feels a little like Simon Peter when getting her feet washed. Prideful, then humbled to have someone you love dearly wash your stinky feet. For some reason it is easier to do the washing. I imagine Peter's feelings are magnified by a thousand.     And for us, it's like a fun game. A picture lesson to remember. Our feelings a mere flash in comparison to His and those he loved that night. All that he knew. The betrayal. The abandonment. And in spite of it all, he bends low and takes the form of the lowest servant.     And when this girl, she asks, "Whose feet w

What kind of Love is this?

There are these faint voices that echo with in the direction of my past. They whisper and taunt me to remember who I was. They pop up in dreams and implore me to reconsider who I really am now in light of who I was then. Oh, not to worry, these are not real voices, no I don't need to be locked away somewhere in a padded room. What I hear are merely the soft voices of faded memories I wish I did not have. As I lie awake this morning not despairing, rather clinging to who I am now...right now in Christ...my mind tumbles around this idea of love and what kind of Love I'm putting my trust in.  What kind of love is true? Is this love any different than what I used to think it was when I was younger and had all the answers? "I think people really find out what love is after they get married," I tell my Love a few weeks ago, near Valentine's day . He smiles and agrees and tells me that he does love me...now, right now. So many times people think they fall ou

So Good: FridayFavs!

Learning to Garden. Yes, we are excited!   With friends. This is the best way, I think.      Getting our hands dirty. Just a little anyway.     Starting small. Very small. This is good too.   And this guy . Finally, all of us well enough to celebrate his big day.       With friends and a light sabor pull apart cake some special presants and all the rest of it.   So good.       

Honorable Counsellor

We named you Koen and prayed and hoped that you would grow into your name: honorable counsellor. Then you came into this world all screams and me all laughter kissing your Father thinking, "I can't believe I just did that!!!" Accidentally natural. Yes, it happens.  And I thought soon after, that perhaps, we messed the whole thing up. Maybe the naysayers were right. Maybe we had the "perfect" family...one boy, one girl. Maybe three was too much for me. Maybe there was not enough love in this momma's heart. Maybe we were just too far from home.  You cried and I think I cried more... if that is even possible. And we lived through that whole messy year crying bold, round, drippy tears together in Germany. No family around. No true friends that very first year. Just the 5 of us: one. big. mess. Together. Oh, and can I just say, son? That for every tear I cried, I have laughed out loud twice as hard. I smile just thinking of that girl those 5 short years